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avatar-anna · 9 hours
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Workday Blues
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2024 Masterlist
i wrote this weeks ago after a co-worker had me seeing red lol
"I just don't get it, H," you sighed, leaning back against the leather seat of your car as you waited for the light to change. Your voice felt strained, and you knew you sounded whiny, but you couldn't help it. After a long shift at work, you told yourself you reserved the right to complain. "Why can't people just, I don't know, do the job they showed up to do and get paid for?"
"I'm sorry, bub," Harry said, his voice tinny as it filled up your car. "Did you talk to your manager?"
You scoffed. "There's no point, but I swear I wanted to tell them I didn't want to work that shift anymore. I'm just so sick of—of—doing more than what's required of me and not being compensated for it."
Harry remained quiet over the phone. At this point in your relationship, he knew when you wanted his advice and when you just needed to vent about your job. The latter happened more and more as of late. Sometimes you felt bad for being so negative, but after nine hours of being overly positive as a restaurant server, you didn't have much positivity left in you.
"Need me to leave you a review again?" Harry finally asked.
Despite your exhaustion, you smiled. "What's that, now? The third one this month?"
"Fourth. Three and a half. I had Mitch leave one after the, what did you call it, 'influencer incident?'" he asked, referring to an afternoon where someone tried to pay for their meal by posting a video online.
"Hm. I'll have to bring him a slice of pie the next time I visit the studio."
"Hey, what about me? Where's my pie?"
Grin widening a bit, you said, "I'll give you something better."
"And...how far from home are you now?"
"Pulling in right now. I'll see you inside."
You pulled into the home you shared with Harry, resting your forehead against the steering wheel once the car was in park. Your feet hurt, you smelled like the food your restaurant served, and you desperately needed to take your makeup off. Sometimes you wondered why you were still putting yourself through all of this, and Harry definitely did too. For years now, Harry promised to take care of you, to take care of your student debt so you could focus on your career and not be so tired and unhappy. He didn't say it often because it typically led to an argument about independence and needing to be able to take care of yourself, but you knew how he felt, and after days like today, the idea of letting someone else take care of you financially seemed more appealing than it normally did.
Sighing, you slid out of the car, gathering your lunch bag and purse before shuffling into the house on slippered feet. "H?" you called, eyes lighting up when you heard the sound of nails scraping against wood floors. A shadow of jet black fur whipped around the corner and bounded toward the entrance hall to you, tongue out and tail wagging.
"Hi, pookie! How's my sweet boy?" you cooed. Hades nudged your leg with his nose, and you bent down to run your hands over his soft puppy fur until he eventually fell onto his back in need of belly rubs.
"You talking to me?" Harry's voice sounded like it came from the kitchen, which you followed once you straightened up and your dog was finished licking your face.
"You're gonna eat your words when you get your cute butt over here."
"I live with two boys, and only one of them greets me excitedly without fail. You do the math," you joked.
You smiled and shook your head at the comment. Harry knew your feelings about your "unflattering" work uniform, so he often went out of his way to compliment you whenever you were in it.
When you finally made it to where Harry was standing at the kitchen counter, tears nearly welled up in the corners of your eyes. "Is that—"
"Wild Cherry Pepsi," he said, his grin wide and knowing as he read your expression. "With pebbled ice. And dinner, but I know you care more about the drink with that sugar addiction of yours."
"You know me so well," you said, your voice rising in pitch as your head bowed.
"Aw, come here, bub." You shuffled over the last few steps to Harry, folding right into his welcoming embrace.
His body was firm and comforting against yours, his t-shirt soft beneath your cheek. Breathing in deep, you wrapped your arms around Harry's torso, letting every frustration you felt at work fall away as he held you.
"Thank you," you mumbled, tilting your head up after a minute or two had passed.
Harry smoothed his hand over your hair and down your back, pulling at the hair tie that held your braid in place all day. "For what?"
You shrugged, eyes closed as he began to pull the strands of your braid apart. "I don't know. For being you, for not suggesting I should quit when I know you want to."
"Another time," Harry promised. Pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, he gestured for you to sit down. You practically fell into the chair, feeling like you could finally relax as you took the plastic to-go cup into your hands and took a sip. Your eyes closed, feeling as though you could fall asleep right then even though you knew you should probably eat. As if he could tell you were on the brink of sleeping, Harry asked, "Do you want to keep talking about work or are you ready to forget?"
Harry wasn't being rude, nor was he belittling your frustration. You'd done this song and dance a time or two, but some days required you to vent more than others.
Around the straw, you said, "Can I?"
He sat beside you, taking Hades in his lap, who was happy to be held even though he was getting way too big for it. Usually, you chided Harry for holding Hades like that, but you were too tired, and honestly, it was kind of cute.
You talked while you ate, and Harry listened, letting you get everything you needed off your chest. He was quiet but attentive, apologizing for things out of his control and cursing your co-workers when you did. None of it would really improve the situation at work, but you always appreciated Harry's willingness to listen when you needed him to, and share in your anger and frustration when necessary.
Standing from the table, you took your plate and put everything in the dishwasher. Grabbing your plastic cup in one hand and Harry's hand in the other, you said, "I think I'm all done."
Harry kissed your temple before pulling you up the stairs toward your bedroom. Hades snaked between you and him to run ahead, waiting on the landing impatiently. "Good, because the Real Housewives of Salt Lake City won't wait for just anyone."
"Not a reading night, huh?" you asked, resting your head on his shoulder. Harry looked down and raised his brows in an expression that expressed he was not, in fact, going to be cracking open his book tonight. Kissing his cheek, you said, "Go ahead and start the next episode, baby. I'm gonna hop in the shower and wash my day off."
Harry, who'd been on his way to do just that, paused and frowned. "Well now I want to watch something else."
Grinning, you held out your hand while you continued to sip your drink. "Come on."
Hades, who had already claimed his spot at the edge of your bed, tilted his head to one side, clearly confused as to why his parents were walking away instead of joining him. "We'll be quick," you promised, even though you knew your dog didn't understand. But the message was for Harry too.
When you were finally in bed, watching Harry's show through eyes that were struggling to stay open, you looked up from where you resting against his shoulder. Harry's glasses were perched on his nose, his eyes focused on the television in front of him as he ran his hand idly over Hades' fur, who had conveniently found his way onto your lap once you settled into bed for the night.
"If you insist," Harry said on an exhale, turning the shower on and setting it to a temperature he knew you both liked.
"Be honest," you said suddenly. "I'd be happier if I quit, right?"
Harry was quiet, but you knew he'd heard you. He was just weighing his words. "Is another job lined up in this alternate universe?" he finally asked.
"I don't know, maybe. They argue quite a bit, though. Don't think you want to be part of all that drama," he replied, taking the remote and pausing his show. He looked down at you, eyes soft but perhaps a little concerned. You'd never considered his offer of letting him provide for you this seriously before. "Honestly? I think you'd get bored, bub."
You shrugged. "I don't know. You've said you'd always take care of me. What if I just...let you? I could be one of them," you mused, nodding your head at the women on your TV.
A nod and a noncommittal hum was your only response for a few seconds until you'd gathered your thoughts. "I'm just so...tired. I'm tired of everything I do not being appreciated. I'm tired of not being supported. I love my regulars and I like most of my co-workers, and part of me feels a sense of loyalty to this place despite, well, everything."
"We'll do some job hunting tomorrow," Harry said. "I'll help you update your resume, you'll send some feelers out, and we'll go from there. How does that sound?"
"I could get a remote job," you mused. "I'd get to be home more. I could travel more with you."
Harry kissed the top of your head. "As much as I would love that, I think your strengths lie in the connections you make with people. You certainly charmed the pants off me."
"Literally or metaphorically?"
"Both."
You grinned, cheeks reddening as you recalled the night you first met Harry.
*.*
"Holy shit you're Harry Styles."
Your hand immediately clapped over your mouth, as if physically covering it would keep you from embarrassing yourself further. In your defense, it was the first time a celebrity sat in your section at work, and no one had thought to warn you. And Harry Styles, no less. The man in front of you was probably still immortalized on your childhood bedroom wall, and now you'd all but outed yourself as a fan when he'd no doubt wanted some privacy.
"I'm so sorry, I—" How were you supposed to recover from this? Harry stared at you with a small smile, a pitying one, no doubt. God, you had one opportunity to act cool in front of a celebrity and you blew it in less than ten seconds. "I'm sorry, let me start over. Hi, I'm Y/n, and I'll be taking care of you today. Can I get you something to drink?"
"Just a water please," Harry replied, his voice soft as his smile widened, which made you think that perhaps he thought you making an absolute fool out of yourself was at the very least amusing.
Once you made it back to the service station to retrieve his water glass, you gave yourself exactly one minute to collect yourself. "He's just another customer. An extremely attractive customer," you murmured, grabbing a pitcher of water from the fridge. "You can do this, Y/n. Pull yourself together."
From there, things went smoothly. You acted like you hadn't freaked out when you initially greeted Harry's table, and Harry was thankfully on board with that plan. He was polite, wasn't fussed when a dish he wanted couldn't be made vegetarian, and was surprisingly interested in making conversation with you anytime you were at his table.
"How long have you worked here?"
"Too long," you joked. "Sometimes I feel like there's a bit of Stockholm Syndrome with this place, but the tips are good."
Your eyes widened a bit when you realized he might think you were making a joke about one of his songs—which you absolutely weren't trying to do—but you didn't comment on it, and thankfully neither did he. You talked a little bit more about the career you did want to get into, and casually asked what brought him to the restaurant you worked at. It wasn't one celebrities tended to frequent, but perhaps that was its charm to Harry.
"Had a day to myself, just thought I'd do some exploring," he explained before you left him to enjoy his meal.
You'd gotten a couple more tables since then and couldn't go over and talk to Harry like you wanted, but perhaps that was for the best. You flitted around the restaurant floor like you always did, charming customers and taking complaints in stride with a smile. Tips were key, and snarky comments or not being accommodating would get you nowhere with certain customers, even if it did kill you inside just a little bit to see an insufferable person get their way.
You didn't realize it at the time, but according to Harry, he watched you—not in a creepy way, per his recollection of your first meeting. He watched you chat with regulars and help your co-workers place orders and carefully placate disgruntled customers. And all the while, you still managed to stop by his table, smiling and topping off the coffee he ordered after he ate, which, according to him he'd done just so he could keep talking to you.
Apparently, he'd been working up the courage to flirt with you when you finally set the check down on the table. "No rush," you said with a smile before heading to another table, a party of ten that you accidentally huffed to him was supposed to be a party of five.
Harry paid, then smiled when his bill and credit card came back to him. Sorry for acting like an idiot earlier. It was nice meeting you! you'd written on the receipt, adorning it with a smiley face. You watched as Harry smiled as he read your note from Expo before one of the line cooks shouted at you to run the food that was up.
You didn't think you'd ever see Harry again, a universal truth, some might've called it. But for some reason, the notion disappointed you, and not because you didn't get a picture with your teenage crush. It felt bigger than that somehow, which was altogether crazy considering you'd only just met him.
So imagine your surprise when you saw him again two days later. "He was supposed to be in my section, but he insisted on yours. Don't fuck it up," one of your more vile co-workers told you, clearly jealous. And as you saw him, his head bent over the menu and his knee bouncing beneath the booth, your heart leaped in your chest in a way that made you both nervous and excited.
"You forgot something," he said as he closed out his check for the second time that week. Time had passed in a blur, despite it slowing down every time you went over to talk to him, which was to say a lot. It wasn't as busy as the day he first came in, leaving you no choice but to check on him more than you normally would.
"Did I?" you asked, looking down at the bill with furrowed brows.
"Last time I was here, I mean," Harry corrected.
Last time, you thought. All Harry had gotten was a salad and a coffee, but the tip he left was well over half of what your other tables had left that day combined. But you rang everything in correctly. Perhaps he was expecting a discount for his celebrity status? He didn't seem like the type, but that was the only conclusion you were able to draw.
"The note you left," he continued, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. He sat up straighter, giving you a better view of the Keith Harring shirt he wore. "It didn't have your number on it, so I've had to come back the last two days so I could ask you for it. Only now I know you don't work on Mondays."
Shock ran through your entire body, to the point where you couldn't even speak. Harry, Harry Styles, mind you, wanted your number. Badly enough that he'd come back to an average Mom-and-Pop restaurant to get it.
"No, I—I don't," was all you could manage as your entire face heated up.
"I hope I'm not sounding like a creep right now," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I realize now I may have participated in some light stalking."
"You're not," you blurted, trying to remember how to speak. You felt like you'd somehow entered an alternate dimension. "Here, hold on."
You pulled your order pad from your back pocket and scribbled your number down, willing your hands to stop shaking. Ripping it off the stack, you handed it to Harry, who took it from you graciously.
"Can I call you later?" he asked, standing up from the booth. You had to back up a couple steps to give him room, and you were now aware of just how tall he was as you craned your neck to look at him.
"Please," you blurted, cursing yourself for sounding so eager. Harry didn't seem to mind, though, smiling as he slipped his phone and wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. "I—I mean, sure. I'm off at eight tonight."
"I'll be counting down the minutes," he said before cursing under his breath. "Shit. I sounded like a stalker again, didn't I?"
A laugh bubbled out of you, making Harry's shoulders relax. "I'll allow it. Just this once."
Harry laughed too, then winked, and you were honestly so proud of yourself for not swooning in front of him. "I guess I'll be talking to you later then, Y/n."
*.*
"You made me so nervous," you said as you recalled the memory of how you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Harry the first time you met.
"I know," he said, laughing when you smacked his arm. "It was cute, though! And you also made me plenty nervous, to be fair."
"That is true," you sighed, grinning a little as you turned your face into his arm. "One of us stalked the other, and it certainly wasn't me."
"Sure, but one of us has posters of the other plastered all over their childhood bedroom."
Scoffing, you sat up and scooted away from him, making Hades bark in protest. "It's one poster. And you weren't even my favorite. Zayn was."
"Sure. Keep telling yourself that."
"I will."
Sighing, you settled deeper against him, as much as you could considering the puppy still in your lap. "Sometimes I think I keep the job because that's where we met."
"It's okay to let it go. We'll have the memory," Harry promised, his hand meeting yours as he began to scratch Hades' fur. "We'll figure it out. I promise."
Nodding, you reached for the remote and pressed play on the show, content to leave the conversation there. If Harry promised to help you figure it out, then you believed him.
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avatar-anna · 1 day
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Save a Horse...
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2024 Masterlist
"Reading anything interesting?" Harry asked as he entered the den, your favorite place to read.
Holding your Kindle to your chest, you said, "Uh, I guess. I only just started it, so."
Harry raised a brow skeptically as he sat in the loveseat across from the bay window where you sat. "Really?" he asked. "You've been in here a while."
"I—I got stuck on my phone for a while," you said. "You know how it is."
"Hm."
Not saying anything else, Harry picked up his own book and opened it. You watched him for a moment, brows furrowed. As far as you were concerned, he was working all afternoon. You didn't typically mind, you took the quiet afternoons to run errands, tend to your garden outside, try out new recipes, and read.
Most of the time, you read. Harry had always known you to be a bookworm, the first time you met you had a novel in your hand and one in the bag over your shoulder. Books were how you communicated—gifts just because, as a form of apology, ones you thought you might enjoy together, which rarely ever happened. You left them in places for Harry to find like his guitar case or his carry on when he left for tour, and he put novels in different purses of yours or among the stacks on your bookshelf to see if you'd notice the new addition.
It was safe to say that both of you loved to read, but quiet afternoons like this were typically ones you enjoyed alone, specifically so Harry wouldn't see you blush or question what it was you were blushing at.
You glanced down at your Kindle, at the paragraph you left off on. "Jack shoved Delilah against the barn's door before ripping her blouse wide open to reveal her bare chest. Buttons scattered against the floor, but Delilah didn't care, not when Jack kissed a searing path toward her—"
"You know what? I think I'm gonna start on dinner," you said, clicking your Kindle shut before standing up.
Looking at your boyfriend was the wrong move. Harry lay stretched out on the loveseat, his shorts riding up on his thighs revealing more of his toned legs than you would've liked. That wasn't the first...steamy scene in your book, and let's just say looking at your very sexy boyfriend wasn't curbing the feeling of need coursing through your veins.
Harry definitely wouldn't have been opposed if you crawled into his lap right now, but he'd ask questions, questions that were too embarrassing to answer.
"Dinner?" he asked, setting his book down in his lap. His reading glasses, which had been perched high on the bridge of his nose, slid down, his hair adorably rumpled. If you hadn't known he'd been in his home studio all day today, you would've guessed he'd just rolled out of bed. "It's one o'clock, baby."
"Or nap," you said, hating how skittish you sounded. "Maybe take a nap. I don't know, I'm not really feeling like reading right now."
"Well, that's a first," Harry said, his voice slightly teasing. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing!" you insisted, though you answered a little too hastily, and your voice might've been higher than usual. Scratching the back of your neck, you tried to quell your heartbeat. "Nothing. Why—Why would you ask that?"
"Because you're acting...strange," Harry concluded. A small smile flickered at the corner of his mouth as he looked you up and down. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the book you're reading on that thing, would it?"
He nodded toward the Kindle in your hands with a raised brow. It was a little too pointed, as if he knew exactly what you kept on it. You and Harry both enjoyed the feel of a physical book in your hands, but you had an e-reader too. For convenience, you told Harry. And it was convenient. Your Kindle was light, you could carry a library in your purse and it barely weighed a pound, and it conveniently hid your most scandalous book titles.
"N—No," you said, fighting the urge to hide your Kindle behind your back, or chuck it across the room until it broke and was unusable. "Like—Like I said, I'm just not in the mood to read."
"Okay, I'll join you then. I'm a little tired myself."
Harry stood up and stretched his arms high above his head, his t-shirt rising with him. Your eyes zeroed in on the sliver of skin that revealed itself. Tan, tattooed skin, taught with muscle, a light trail of hair that led into the waistband of his briefs. Your cheeks were already flaming red from the situation at hand, but seeing his skin, seeing Harry be...Harry without even trying was too much. You thought you might combust.
"Why?" It was a stupid question, one you knew Harry saw right through.
"Why are you so eager to not hang out with me?" he asked back, his eyes narrowing. "And what's got you so flustered today? Has Jack ravished Delilah again?"
"Wh—What?"
Harry smirked at you, his eyes filled with mischief as he nodded at the e-reader in your hands. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know what you keep on there."
What? "Since when? And how—how do you know about—"
"You fell asleep reading last night," Harry explained. "And the Kindle was still on. I mean, I've always had my suspicions because you're always blushing when you've got that thing in your hands, but I got curious."
"I—You—You snooped—"
"I'm sorry, baby. I wouldn't have looked if I knew you'd be upset about it," he said, stepping closer. "But you shouldn't be. Nothing to be embarrassed about here."
You looked down at the socks on your feet instead of Harry coming closer to you. He said there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but you couldn't help but feel it creeping along your skin. You didn't do anything wrong, but you felt dirty for some reason, like you'd gotten caught doing something you knew you shouldn't have.
Crossing your arms across your chest, you said, "So, are you going to tease me about it or what?"
"Nothing to tease about, baby. I already told you that. I just didn't realize you had a thing for cowboys, that's all."
You huffed. You knew you weren't getting off that easy. "Shut up."
"No really," Harry said. You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice. "I wish you'd told me sooner. I would've gotten a hat, gotten the right jeans. Is that why you're into that show now? The one with all the cowboys and horseback riding and—"
"Alright, alright. I get it," you said, finally looking at him. Looking up at him, more like. Harry was practically toe to toe with you, his hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You know what? I'm taking me and my Kindle upstairs and I'm going to finish reading Jack—what did you call it?—ravish Delilah."
Harry let you stomp away in a huff, chuckling at your back as you left the den. Going up to the bedroom you shared with Harry, you settled on the bed and turned your Kindle back on.
Your eyes flitted across the screen, tracking over each word but not really reading them. You wanted to lose yourself in the story, in the scene laid out before you, but you couldn't.
"So, is it the hats that do it for you? Or the accents?"
Rolling your eyes, you tossed your Kindle to the side. Harry leaned against the doorframe, his eyes still holding that mirth in them. Narrowing your eyes at him, you said, "The ruggedness, I think. There's something so...manly about a guy on a horse and doing honest work, manual labor. Know what I mean?"
His nose wrinkled as he laughed. "Ha ha. I think I'm gonna have to download some other kinds of novels on there. Ones about rockstars falling for their fans, maybe?"
Harry began crawling onto the bed toward you, only stopping when you pressed a foot to his chest. "Really?"
"Definitely more rooted in reality than your wrangler fantasies," he said, then turned his head to the side. Pushing back your yoga pants, Harr pressed a tiny kiss to your ankle, then worked his way up your leg, toward the back of your knee. "Take these off, baby. And pick up that book of yours too."
You didn't need to be told twice about ditching your pants, but the book part made you pause. "Why the book? You were teasing me about it not even a minute ago."
"I am going to make sure you enjoy it," Harry said, though it sounded more like a promise.
Excitement flipped in your belly, your cheeks flushed with anticipation. "Yeah? Maybe next time I'll get you a cowboy hat."
Harry raised his brows, a crooked smile inching up his face. "I could get behind that. Now don't make me ask you again, baby."
Harry tugged on your ankle until you lay flat against the mattress with a squeak. "I'm going, I'm going!" you cried with an excited giggle, shoving your yoga pants down and wriggling out of them. Harry's hands, which were calloused from years of playing the guitar were rough against your skin, but it sent a lick of curling heat down your spine.
"The book, baby. Go on."
Your lips pursed as you looked at Harry. His lips were wet from where he'd swiped his tongue over them, the pads of his fingers trailing up and down the skin of your inner thighs. The light stubble of his cheeks scratched your skin, but it didn't hurt, it felt thrilling as he looked up at you through his lashes, green eyes glinting with promise.
Keeping eye contact, you reached for the abandoned Kindle, clicking it on and looking down at where you left off. Harry continued to lean against your thigh, stroking his thumb up and down while you settled against the bed. Nothing for one page, then more nothing, then he began to prop your leg up, then the other.
"Jack flipped Delilah over, his hands splaying across her bare back until they found purchase in the tresses of her dark red hair. 'Come on,' Delilah panted, already breathless from the mere anticipation of him filling her. It hadn't been long since they last fucked, but it felt like an age. She needed it more than she cared to admit. Badly enough that she was willing to do it in a dusty old barn. 'What are you waiting for—' 'Maybe I should put it in your mouth instead. That'll shut you up—"
"Oh." You gasped, pleasure tingling through your whole body.
"Is that me or Jack?" Harry asked, his voice vibrating through you, nose nudging against you in a way that had your toes curling.
"Jack," you teased, then arced your back against the bed with a groan.
"Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me," he said before parting your legs further. "Keep going. Don't put it down until I tell you."
"But—Ow!"
Harry kissed the juncture of your thigh, right where he'd pinched it. "Keep going," he repeated.
"Rude," you muttered but picked the e-reader nonetheless.
When you continued, so did Harry. It was hard to keep focus. Not when teased with his nose, or when he expertly worked you over with his tongue, especially not when he thrust his fingers inside you relentlessly. Still, you waited, still you read, waiting for Harry to tell you you could stop.
You were two orgasms in when he finally looked up, chin glistening and evil smirk shining as he glanced up at you. "I think that was all me, don't you?"
"Shut up and fuck me," you said airily, breaths still falling heavily. Giggling, you continued. "That I got from Delilah."
Harry crept up the bed until his face was level with you. His nose against yours before kissing it. "Tell me more."
"I could tell you," you said with a grin that matched Harry's. Reaching for the waistband of his shorts and briefs, you began to tug. "But I think we'd both have more fun if I showed you."
Harry leaned onto his back and rested his arms above his head, settling back with a grin as you climbed on top of him. His eyes rolled back blissfully to a single roll of your hips before they settled back on you.
"Show me then, baby."
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avatar-anna · 2 days
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Hi I was wondering if you could write something about the fan!reader having a small business and Harry randomly checks out the shop and he immediately thinks she's cute or something? If really appreciate it :)
yes!! i... don't really know how i ended up with this fic, and i'm not sure i like it, so lmk what you think!
part two
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He was there again.
You knew who he was, of course, how could you not? Harry Styles was the world’s biggest rockstar, known for his 70s-inspired sound, arms covered in tattoos, and elusive reputation. He was loved by millions, yet no one actually knew him, which you assumed was a part of his allure.
In short, Harry Styles wasn’t the kind of person you thought you would find at a Saturday farmer’s market, yet he was there. Every weekend. You weren’t one of his devoted followers, but as time went by and you saw more and more of him, you began to notice things about him. He dressed impeccably, but in a way that said he didn’t want to be noticed. His painted nails were always in various stages of chipped, which you started to believe he preferred it that way because you never saw him with a new manicure. And from what you could tell, he only ever spoke to the two or three friends he walked around with, so you tried to respect his privacy and not notice him. That didn’t stop other people from coming up to him and asking for a picture, but you let him be.
It was hard to do that when he kept coming to your stall every weekend and left empty-handed, though.
Harry Styles, you discovered, was not only the quiet and brooding type, but apparently, he was also the type of person to inspect every single thing in a store and then not buy anything. Not a single thing. Some days it felt like he inspected every petal and stem just to not buy a single flower, let alone a whole bouquet. And his brows were always furrowed, like the display wasn't up to his standards. You didn't know what kinds of flowers Harry Styles bought, but clearly yours weren't good enough for him.
A real head scratcher because he was at your stall every Saturday.
It made you question your stall sometimes—the way you arranged your flowers, the brown paper and ribbon and twine you wrapped them in; the bunches of lavender and rosemary, and bouquets of roses and daises and carnations and peonies, and all the other sweet-smelling flowers you grew at home and brought to the market every weekend. You couldn’t understand why your flowers weren’t good enough for him. Or why he kept coming back to your stall if they weren't.
Each time he stopped by your stall and didn’t buy anything, you got more and more annoyed, something that didn’t happen often. It got to the point that by the sixth time he walked up to inspect your flowers, you couldn’t sit by anymore. You were going to say something, you just had to work up the courage first.
You’d been on your phone typing up possible things to say to him, so you didn’t see Harry walk up to your stall, and when you looked up, you jumped. He was right in front of you.
“I, um, I wanted to ask for your opinion,” he said, his voice so quiet you had to lean in to hear him.
“My opinion?” you asked, looking at him skeptically.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I—I want to buy a bouquet of flowers, but I don’t know which ones to get. I'm meeting someone and am in a bit of a rush, so if you could just...”
He gestured like he wanted you to be quick in your assessment of your own flower arrangements.
You were curious as to why now, after weeks of him practically judging your stall, he wanted your advice, or to buy something. But when he said he was in a rush, you realized you were probably a last resort. Harry didn't want to buy from you, you were just a convenient option.
"Sure. Is there anything you're looking for in particular?"
"Flowers," he blurted, looking at you like he suddenly regretted coming to your stall at all. At that moment, you wondered where his normal group of friends was. Harry was rarely ever alone, and you would've loved a buffer between the two of you right about now.
Rolling your eyes, you said, "I meant, what's the occasion? Are you celebrating? Is it romantic? Are they for a family member?"
You hoped that your questions would clear things up, but he only looked at you with a deeper frown. "Does it matter? They're all flowers."
This was your moment. This was your opportunity to speak your mind and match his sour energy. But as you opened your mouth to tell him how you really felt about his judgy eyes and above-it-all demeanor, you chickened out.
"You're right. Here," you told him, pulling a random bouquet from your stall and handing it to Harry. It was a personal favorite of yours—lavender and daisies and baby's breath bundled together with twine—and a pretty neutral bouquet. Unless he was about to go to some sort of anniversary event with a significant other, in which something a little more grand would be more fitting. But he said it didn't matter, so you decided not to think into it too much.
"That'll be twelve dollars."
His brows raised in a way that made you dislike him even more, but he only pulled his wallet out and handed you a twenty-dollar bill. "Keep the change," he mumbled, then walked off the way he'd come.
"Ass," you muttered.
Checking your watch, you realized the market was going to be over soon. And since no one was even looking at your stall, you decided to pack up for the day. You began pulling bouquets from their displays, already coming up with ways to repurpose the ones that were showing signs of wilting. You often dried them and made little bookmarks, plates, ornaments, and other kinds of decorations, but that took time and planning.
"Did Harry Styles just buy flowers from here?"
You looked behind you to where a girl dressed in bell bottoms and a crop top was standing, glitter-covered eyes looking at you expectantly.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Can I buy the same bouquet as him? Does he shop here a lot?"
There was an opportunity here. To lie or to tell the truth. Since you were still a little miffed by the singer's behavior, you went with a little white lie. "He comes here every week."
It technically wasn't a lie. He did come every week, but the girl didn't have to know that today was the first time he'd ever purchased anything. You had a lot of flowers to sell, and Harry was going to help you, whether he was aware of it or not.
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The next Saturday came and Harry was back with what some might consider his “entourage.” If it was possible, he looked even moodier than he normally did, and he was headed straight towards you. You didn’t know what he wanted, nor did you care that people were gawking at him as he came into your stall. Thanks to him, business was better than ever, word having spread that the Harry Styles frequented your flower stand. You were in the middle of helping a bride with ideas for arrangements for her wedding, and you weren’t going to stop for Harry. He could wait.
“I need to speak to you.”
His voice made it seem like there wasn’t room for debate, but you didn’t see it that way.
“I’ll be with you in just a minute. Feel free to look around,” you told him, quickly going back to the bride to be.
You could practically feel him standing behind you, but you took your time helping the potential client. In reality, it was maybe two or three minutes, but when you turned around, Harry’s arms were crossed like you’d made him wait an hour.
Smiling, you asked, “How can I help you?”
“She didn’t like them.”
You knew what he was talking about, but an evil part of you kind of liked pissing the rockstar off. “Like what?”
Harry just continued to stare intensely. “The flowers. The ones I bought from you.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” you said, and you meant it too. You took pride in arranging your bouquets. “Did you want to buy more or did you just want to tell me that?”
“Well, I—” He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. “I mean not really, but she said I had to.”
Your brows raised, both thoroughly confused and amused at the same time. “Okay. Well, have a look around, and let me know if—”
“There’s nothing here,” he interrupted. “She’s very picky. Likes to have stuff that other people don’t.”
Who was he dating? The queen? you thought. You understood getting the right bouquet and having a favorite flower, but you couldn’t just pull the ones you had apart and make Harry a new one. You grouped those flowers together for a reason.
“I mean if you think they’re unsatisfactory, then you could always just go somewhere else,” you said.
“It’s not me, it’s her,” Harry said. “I couldn’t care less, but she’s insisting, and I’m already here, so.”
He didn’t even realize that he just insulted you. And not only that, but he still expected your help.
Channeling all of your most calming thoughts, you took a deep breath and smiled. “Well, let me check the back for something more unique. Oh wait, there is no back,” you said with a shrug. If he didn’t care, then you didn’t either.
“Why are you being rude? I’m asking you for help,” he asked, seeming utterly confused.
It occurred to you then that the man in front of you might just be the brutally honest type, that he didn’t think he was being mean, just honest. He was, but you weren’t going to have it out with him about his behavior. If no one hadn’t called him out on it, you weren’t going to be the one to change his mind.
“I...guess you can come back to my garden and pick out a bouquet there, but it’ll cost you ex—”
“Done. When can we leave?”
“Market closes in an hour,” you said, eager to be rid of him for the time being.
“I’ll come back then.”
“Can’t wait,” you muttered. It was sarcastic, of course, but you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
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Harry was back in exactly an hour, his friends nowhere to be seen. He watched passively as you loaded wooden crates of flowers into your truck, and when you finally closed up the bed, you walked back over to him.
“You can just follow me in your car, I guess. I live about ten minutes from here.”
You weren’t surprised when all he did was nod. He followed you to the market’s parking lot, your eyes widening when he slid behind a sleek black car with tinted windows.
The entire drive, your mind was occupied. You wondered how the hell you ended up in this situation and pondered ways it could’ve gone differently. Perhaps you should’ve just told Harry to find another florist, or just let him pick apart your bouquets. But you were here, driving in your beat up, barely working, pick-up truck with one of the biggest celebrities of today trailing behind you in a car that costed more than you made in a year.
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“Take a look around and let me know if you see anything you like.”
“Okay.”
You didn’t want to leave him alone among the rows of flowers, but you also didn’t want to awkwardly trail behind him. So you settled for venturing to the next row over pretending to gather flowers while keeping an eye on him.
Harry barely said a word as he walked up and down your garden, his face as void of emotion as always. You wondered if he ever smiled, or what his laugh sounded like, but you quickly shook those thoughts away.
“I can’t find anything.”
Having gotten lost in picking out marigolds that looked ready to be picked, you startled at Harry’s sudden closeness. It appeared he was very sneaky.
“I’m sorry about that,” you said, though you kind of expected that from him. “I don’t have anything else to show you.”
“I just don’t know what to get for her, and she’ll have my head if I don’t get it right,” he said, and for a moment it sounded like he was genuinely worried about the possibility of his head being removed from his neck.
Harry claimed he couldn’t find anything, but it looked to you like he wasn’t going to leave here empty handed.
“Um...” You quickly scanned the row you were in. Spotting some pink carnations and wild daisies, an idea sprouted in your head. You snipped stems and went to another row to pull some other flowers to match. “Here. Carnations symbolize gratitude and the wild daisies beauty and hope. And the little purple ones are unique and will tie the whole thing together once I wrap them in purple paper. Does that work?”
Harry took the flowers from your hands and inspected them like he was about to give you feedback on your choice. Why he would do that, you weren’t sure. You didn’t go to his home and criticize his music.
But all he said was, “Flowers have meaning?”
You breathed heavily through your nose. “Yes, they do. Now, if you’d like, I can wrap these up for you. Put a bow on them maybe?”
Harry looked like he wanted to ask more about flowers and their meanings, but he just nodded.
You led him away from your garden and into your garage, which you’d converted into a workspace years ago. It was covered in unfinished projects and snipped stems and stray petals, but honestly it always looked like that.
“Um, there are small animals following you.”
“Oh!”
Turning around, you saw that Harry was right. There was a line of ducklings following you towards the house. Bending down, you cupped your hands and let a couple hop in.
“This is Melon, Sandy, and Hank. They hatched recently, and now they follow me everywhere.”
Harry peered down at the ducklings curiosity wrinkling his brow. “They...follow...you?”
“Yep. Do you want to hold one? Actually, why don’t you just take these while I go wrap up your flowers.”
You handed the ducklings off to Harry while you darted into your workspace, making quick work of cutting ribbon and tying a knot around the sweet peas’s stems. When you returned, Harry was holding two ducks while one somehow made it onto his shoulder and was burying itself in his hair.
“Sorry, I should’ve mentioned that Melon does that,” you said.
It was a risk to step into Harry’s personal bubble, you didn’t think he would be the type to appreciate that, but he also looked slightly freaked out that a duckling named Melon was trying to make a home out of his hair. Carefully, you removed Melon from strands of hair until he was safely back in your hands.
Harry quietly took the packaged flowers from you and handed the other ducklings back. Figuring he was in some kind of shock from holding the three ducks, you left him to his silence and showed him out.
“Do you own a lot of animals?”
The question surprised you, but only because you assumed Harry would want to leave as quickly as possible. “I don’t really see myself as an ‘owner,’ but I technically have a cow. And Cheese. And deer show up every now and again.
“Cheese?”
“A tree frog,” you clarified. “I was high when I named him.
That time you were sure the corner of his mouth flickered. “That’s...unusual.”
“What? Getting high?”
“No, the cow and—”
“That was a joke,” you said, stopping him even though his flustered state satisfied you to no end.
“Oh. Well here,” he said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet and pulling out a bunch of bills.
You started at them in shock. There was easily a hundred dollars in your hands. “I don’t need that mu—”
“Just take it. Please,” he insisted.
For a brief moment there, Harry seemed... different. You couldn’t really pass judgement because you didn’t know him, but the last couple minutes, he wasn’t so tense and wasn’t frowning so much. More awkward than broody. But he seemed closed off again,so you just took the money like he told you to.
Harry quickly sped off after that, and you were left alone in the dust, literally, trying to comprehend the day you just had.
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“Wiggles says you own a cow.”
Your first instinct was to look up, not down, so you didn’t see her at first. When you realized it wasn’t an adult that was speaking to you, your eyes shifted downward.
The first thing you saw was blond hair slicked back into a ponytail, the next thing was the coffee cup. She looked like she was nine going on twenty-nine with a plaid skirt and sweater vest. Who was this girl and where did she come from?
“You realize coffee stunts your growth, don’t you?” you asked, though a smile played at your lips.
She looked down at you the best she could at her height. A very commendable effort, you decided. “It’s decaf.”
“Fair enough. Who told you about my cow?”
“H—”
“Lucy, there you are!”
With wide eyes, you watched as Harry jogged over to you and the young girl. Lucy.
It seemed Harry switched out his usual group of friends for this young girl. You knew you probably shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t help but ask, “Wiggles?”
At that, Harry glared down at Lucy. “We talked about that.”
Lucy shrugged. “You talked. I listened, and then I silently disagreed.”
You immediately liked this girl.
Turning away from Lucy, Harry looked at you with pink cheeks. “Sorry about her. We were just leaving, actually.”
“Oh. No worries, she just—”
“You came all this way and you’re not gonna give it to her?” Lucy asked.
It seemed as if this girl was Harry’s kryptonite, as he began to blush even harder. Sighing, Harry set the drink in his hand down on the table you were sitting behind. The drink you always ordered.
You looked at the drink, astonished. “How did you—”
“I just noticed the label, and I knew that that coffee shop is close by, and I mean the drink is green so all I had to ask for was the green one. It’s not like it was hard or anything.”
It sounded like Harry was trying to convince himself of that fact and not you, but the fact that his moody, broody exterior wasn’t as thick as you initially assumed put a smile on your face.
“Thank you. I don’t know why you got it for me, but thank you.”
Scratching the back of his neck, Harry said, “Well, I told Lucy about the florist who owned ducklings and a cow, and she insisted that I take her, and when I tried to explain that your house wasn’t a petting zoo, she said—”
“That everyone has a price, and Wiggles has a very big wallet,” Lucy supplied helpfully.
Lots of things shocked you at the moment, it was hard to pinpoint which one had your mouth slightly ajar.
Harry had...a child? They didn't look anything alike, but that didn't say much. But not only did he have a child, who was just as blunt as Harry was, he talked about you to her. You were curious to know in how much detail, but you didn't dare ask. It was clear Harry—Wiggles—had his hands full.
"I was just bringing this as a thank you for your help last week. That's all," Harry said, looking you dead in the eye. It was like he needed you to know he had absolutely no ulterior motives with the coffee. Not that you expected him to. As far as you knew, Harry had never been photographed with anyone romantically, but you had a feeling a florist and cow owner wasn't his type.
"Thanks," you said, picking up the drink and taking a sip from the straw.
It was awkwardly silent after that. You didn't really know what to say, and from the looks of it, Harry didn't want to say anything. His mask of indifference was back, but he made no move to take himself and Lucy away.
"So is it like one of those black and white cows you see on milk cartons, or is it—"
"Lucy," Harry hissed.
"What?"
The pair had a very interesting dynamic. The way they interacted felt more sibling-esque than father-daughter, and now you really wanted to know what exactly they meant to each other.
"She's a miniature cow with brown hair," you said to Lucy, not minding her curiosity one bit.
"Miniature?"
You nodded. "She won't grow to be very big. Wanna see?"
Harry stood with his arms crossed while you and Lucy looked at pictures of your pet on your phone. As you scrolled, the young girl peppered you with questions, and while you were more than happy to answer all of them, you could tell that Harry was even more ready to leave.
"You really live there? It looks like a fairy's home," she said, admiring the picture of Petal the miniature cow dozing in the garden.
"I do."
Lucy turned to Harry, and while his arms were still crossed and his face was still pretty stoic, something in his eyes softened when he looked at her. "We have to have our next tea party there."
"You can't just use someone's home for your tea parties, Lucy," Harry said, sounding like he'd had similar conversations before.
"Well obviously Y/n would be invited too," Lucy said with a roll of her eyes.
Sighing, he told her, "You can't invite yourself over to someone's house, Lu—"
"It's fine," you said, even if Harry was technically right. "Lucy, why don't you go pick out a bouquet of flowers. Free of charge."
Lucy's eyes lit up, and she scampered off to inspect each one, much like Harry often did when he stopped by.
Now that you and Harry were relatively alone, you were able to digest some of the information you'd learned in the last few minutes, the first being that Harry Styles, the Harry Styles that toured the world as a rock star and sang about sex and hallucinogenics, went to tea parties with a girl who couldn't be older than ten years old and called him Wiggles. Who knew that was what he was hiding under that broody facade?
"I'm sorry about her, she has no sense of personal boundaries," he finally said, breaking you away from your thoughts.
"Like I said, it's fine. She just made my day."
That made Harry smile just enough for a dimple to indent one of his cheeks. It made you wonder what his actual smile looked like. Attractive like him, you assumed, though you doubted you would ever see it.
"Thanks. And don't worry about the whole tea party and coming over thing, she'll forget about it by tomorrow."
Harry was saying one thing, but it didn't sound like he was all that convinced, and after witnessing Lucy's fascination and persistence yourself, you knew that she would probably nag Harry about it for days, maybe even weeks, to come.
"I...wouldn't mind if she came to visit Petal, but I will require one thing."
Harry looked skeptical but also relieved that he wasn't going to have to repeatedly tell Lucy no. "Deal. What is it?"
"I need to know how Harry Styles got the nickname 'Wiggles.'"
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Suddenly knowing things about a celebrity was weird.
To you, Harry had just been some guy that was popular on the radio and really had a problem with your flower arrangements, and now he and his...well, you didn't know who Lucy was to him, but they were coming over to your house so that she could meet your pet cow.
Life was utterly bizarre (cow pun intended).
You didn't really know what to expect from Harry. He was quiet and standoffish and had this uncanny ability to make you question every little thing you did. You were used to seeing him from a distance, watching him as he silently judged your bouquets of flowers, and now you were spending an extended period of time with him. You weren't sure why you cared, but you did.
So you put a little effort into what you were wearing for your guests, but not to the point of looking like you were trying too hard. A bandana over your hair, a pair of jeans that didn't have grass stains on them, and a green turtleneck sweater that made your eyes pop.
Lucy and Harry were right on time, something you were expecting from them. This whole arrangement was strange, but seeing Lucy's eyes widen as she took in your garden in person made it all worth it.
Harry was pretty much silent as you showed Lucy all the different types of flowers and how to properly pick them. He trailed behind the two of you like some kind of bodyguard, boots kicking up dirt and crunching gravel as he walked.
"Is he always like that?" you couldn't help but ask Lucy. You wondered if it was just you who had that affect on him, or if that was just his natural disposition.
"Mm, kinda. He's just shy. Doesn't know how to talk to girls."
You didn’t know what you were expecting, but that was not how you assumed Harry Styles would be. You weren't a huge fan of his by any means, but you didn't live under a rock, either. Girls practically threw themselves at him, you guessed he had no issue flirting with girls.
Not that that's what you thought Harry wanted from you. His feelings towards you were pretty clear, you thought.
"I can hear you, you know," Harry called from a few feet behind you and Lucy. She giggled, like that was exactly her plan, but you just blushed. He didn't need to know you were asking about him.
"And here's Petal. She mostly just sleeps and eats all day," you said a while later. Lucy had insisted you showed her everything, and after an hour, you finally made it to where Petal was napping in the afternoon sun.
"She's so cute! Isn't she cute, Wig—I mean Harry?"
You stood back after telling Lucy where the best places to pet Petal were so she wouldn't get spooked, more than happy to just watch like Harry was.
You tried not to, but you couldn't help but steal glances at Harry. Your eyes caught on the sharp angle of his jaw the curl of his lashes and the point of his nose. And when you settled on his hair, you couldn't help but smile.
"You—You have something in your hair," you said, and before you could think, you were reaching up to pluck the dandelion tuft from one of his curls. The image of Harry's hair dotted with flowers made you smile even wider.
When you pulled back and saw his wide eyes, though, you immediately took a step back. "Sorry, I should've asked before invading your space like that."
Harry cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "It's fine."
Not that you really expected to, but you couldn't read Harry for the life of you. There were moments where you thought he was just awkward like Lucy said, and then there were those where he just seemed inexplicably cold. Maybe it's just me, you thought, and you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed by that.
When you turned back towards Lucy to ask if she wanted to go find your ducklings, you missed the way rested his face in his hands.
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You weren't sure how it happened, but Harry and Lucy were suddenly a part of your life.
Well, that wasn't totally true. Lucy kept inviting herself over, and you learned very quickly that Harry had a hard time telling her no. Not that you minded. Lucy was sweet, and it was nice having people around.
Harry remained as cold as ever. Over the last few weeks, you knew almost everything about Lucy. As she helped you pick flower crowns, she told you how she preferred her coffee, while you showed her how to make flower crowns and preserve dried flowers, she revealed that Harry was her godfather who helped take care of her, and she told you about her classmate that sang a little too loudly during music class. And while you brewed tea for her tea party, she broke down her meal schedule, from breakfast croissant all the way down to her bedtime glass of steamed milk (non-dairy, of course).
And yet, in all that time, Harry remained a mystery. Unless Lucy included him in a story, you knew as much about him as you did when he was merely someone who came by your stall at the farmer's market.
It didn't bother you, but you were curious as to why stayed so far away whenever you and Lucy hung out.
"Are you free on Saturday night, Y/n?"
You looked up from where you'd been braiding little flowers into Lucy's hair. "I think so. Why? Are you asking to come over?"
"No, I have plans, but you should definitely go out."
She did that a lot, you learned. She liked to tell you what to do with your life and give you advice on how to spend it. Most of it you ignored, seeing as she was nine—though you did take her up on a coffee recommendation she gave you a week ago—but for the most part, you humored her.
"And where should I go?" you asked.
"Wiggles is playing at the Troubadour. You should go see him perform."
Looking over to where Harry sat on a patio chair, you assumed he would be on his phone or staring off into the distance, but his eyes were already on you and Lucy, watching the conversation play out.
"Um..." You weren't really sure how to answer with Harry staring you down like that. Did he want you to say no? Yes? You couldn't tell. "It's kind of last minute, don't you think? I think it might be sold out by now."
"He could work something out. Couldn't you, Harry? Don't you want Y/n to see you perform?"
You didn't know him, but one thing you could assume about Harry Styles was that he didn't like being put on the spot. Looking at you, he said, "If you want to come, I could figure something out."
Lucy jumped up and clapped. "See? Perfect! Now your night won't be boring and Wiggles will be so excited you're coming."
He certainly didn't look very excited. His face morphed into a grimace, though you tried not to be too offended by that.
When it was time for Lucy and Harry to leave, you pulled Harry aside once Lucy was buckled up in the car.
"I won't come if you don't want me to."
Harry shook his head, curls bouncing around his shoulders as he moved. "No, you should. The Troubadour is a cool venue."
"Uh...Okay. Sure. I guess it wouldn't hurt to have plans on Saturday night."
Giving you a curt nod, he said. "Great. I'll text you the details on Friday."
"Cool, I'll see you—then," you said, but he'd already spun around to get in the car.
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"The Troubadour is a cool venue?" Lucy mocked with a giggle.
Harry rested his head on the steering wheel and blew out a heavy sigh. "Shut up, Lucy."
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You were overdressed.
Or perhaps not appropriately dressed was a better way to put it. You weren't the type to wear a lot of black, but maybe you should've gone out and bought something more suited for a rock concert at the Troubadour. You were in a pair of denim overalls with a floral blouse underneath, a small bouquet of flowers in your hands to give to Harry after his performance.
Everyone at Harry's show was intense, and you were suddenly very glad that you were watching from the second floor. There was a lot of pushing and shoving right in front of the stage, people reaching out in the hopes that Harry would touch their hand.
And Harry. Well, at least now you knew why everyone loved him. Everything about him was hot as he sang onstage. He played guitar, his chest was on display with the button-down that was barely buttoned, and eyeliner was smudged around his eyes, making his green eyes pop. A few times, he looked up to where you were, and you blushed every time. You thought he was cute, like most of the population, but to you that was just a fact. Now, though, butterflies stirred in your stomach.
Maybe it was that Harry seemed to come alive onstage, or that you were finally seeing a side of him other than the quiet, indifferent person you'd become acquainted with through Lucy. Whatever the case, you enjoyed seeing Harry like this, less stoic and more energetic.
When the show was over, you waited and debated. You'd brought flowers for Harry, but his text didn't say anything about the two of you meeting afterward. In truth, your connection was mostly through Lucy, and without her here, there was no reason for you to see each other.
Harry "Wiggles" Styles: You can come backstage if you'd like.
That was certainly unexpected. You made your way to what you assumed backstage, smiling at people as you passed. Some smiled back, and some glared at you when they realized where you were headed.
There was a security guard in front of the green room, but he must have been expecting you because he stepped aside before you could say anything.
"Oh! Sorry! I'll wait outside!"
Apparently, the security guard wasn't aware that Harry was changing out of his stage clothes. He'd been slipping his patterned button-down off his shoulders. You were quick to turn around, but not before catching a glimpse of broad shoulders and an entire chest covered in tattoos. Your heart had just stopped racing after his final performance, but now it was fluttering all over again.
"It's fine, Y/n. You can turn around."
Slowly, you turned on your heel. Harry was already in a t-shirt, a faded Ramones shirt with a stretched collar that revealed tattoos inching up his neck.
"These are—These are for you."
"Thanks."
You awkwardly handed over the flowers for him to take, Harry's fingers brushing yours when he eventually did. You weren't sure why you were so nervous all of a sudden. You'd seen Harry numerous times, so you didn't know why this felt so different.
"I really enjoyed your show tonight. I can see why so many people like you. And the, um, the part where you drank water and then spit it out was cool too. I think the girl next to me almost fainted."
Your nerves were palpable, so you weren't surprised when a smile itched at the corner of Harry's mouth. "I'm glad you had a good time."
Neither of you knew what to say now. Both of you stood in the middle of the green room, Harry holding the bouquet of flowers between ringed-adorned fingers and you wishing you hadn't given them away just yet so your hands had something to fiddle with.
"Well, thanks again for this. I had a lot of fun. Though maybe I should thank Lucy. She kind of forced your hand."
Harry was still staring at you with an unreadable expression. You wished you knew what he was thinking.
"I'm—I'm glad you came tonight," he said.
Your brows raised in surprise. "Really? I kind of thought you hated me."
Why did you have to go and say that, idiot? you thought. Now things were even more awkward than they were before.
Harry frowned, looking genuinely hurt by what you said. "I don't hate you. You think I hate you?"
"Well, no, I mean kinda? I guess I just took you not talking to me as disliking me, and before I even met Lucy you would always look at my stall with this hard expression on your face, and then you would never buy anything. Which is fine except you kept coming back so, I don't know, it just felt like my work wasn't good enough for you and you're always glaring and it—it's just this feeling I have."
You took a deep exhaled, having said all of that in one breath. You didn't come to Harry's show tonight with plans to say all that, but now that you did, you felt a bit better. Though now you worried you may have hurt Harry's feelings.
"I—I was just trying to come up with something," he said.
"Come up with something?"
"To say. To you. I don't know anything about flowers, and you make me nervous, and the fact that I couldn't just make myself go up and talk to you frustrated me to no end. I just didn't want to look like an idiot in front of you."
"Oh."
You had no idea how to respond. All this time, you thought Harry didn't like you, only to find out that he was...nervous to talk to you? You remembered Lucy saying that Harry was shy, but you didn't think it went that deep. Apparently, it did.
"So you...like...me then?" you asked. It sounded to you like Harry had a crush, but you weren't going to make any more assumptions.
"Yeah, I—I've been working up the courage to ask you out for weeks, but Lucy beat me to it. Nosy little menace."
You couldn't help but smile at the mention of Lucy. She really was the cause of all this. "Her heart was in the right place?"
Harry nodded, but he wouldn't meet your eyes. "I understand if—if don't want to. Go out with me that is," he said, pink tinging his cheeks. "Now that I know you thought I hated you and everything. But I don't. You should know that, at the very least."
He looked so defeated with his hair hanging in his face the way it was. All of this was coming as a surprise to you, and as such rendered you speechless. But the longer you went without saying anything, the more Harry seemed to deflate.
"You, uh, you haven't actually asked me yet," you found yourself saying.
You thought Harry was a mystery, and in some respects, he was. He'd been a little rude to you the first few times you spoke to him, but everyone had their off days, and he hadn't been like that since he and Lucy started regularly coming to your house.
And without actually speaking to him much, you knew quite a bit about him. You knew he had a goddaughter, whom he loved very much and let call him Wiggles. You knew that he seemed to have a hard time expressing his feelings unless he was onstage. You knew he had a close group of friends that he hung out with regularly. And you knew he let Lucy put flowers in his hair (but you only knew that because she told you).
It was a short list, but you found yourself wanting to add to it.
Harry looked at you, hope etching his features. "Right, um. Would you like to...to go out sometime?"
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
As your truck pulled into the driveway, you sighed.
You felt like Cinderella after the clock struck twelve. You checked in on all your animals, making sure they were all accounted for. As you finally made it to your bedroom, you replayed the night's events over and over.
You didn't think that was where the night was headed, you almost couldn't believe it. The last few hours felt like a dream, one that you would wake up from any minute now.
But then your phone chimed, and your heart did that weird fluttery thing when you saw who the message was from.
Harry "Wiggles" Styles: I had a really good time tonight.
Harry "Wiggles" Styles: Is it too soon to ask for a second date?
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avatar-anna · 3 days
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sza deserves all the grammys this year i said what i said
Hockey Player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader
*.*
"You're an idiot, Styles."
Harry tried to respond, but hissed as Y/n dabbed the cut near his eye. "Easy, there. I know you have gentler hands than that."
Y/n huffed, moving onto his split lip. Harry was sitting on top of her bathroom counter as she cleaned up his cuts from the fight he got into at his game an hour ago. She hadn't gone, and had been surprised when Harry showed up at her doorstep battered and bruised, a bag of frozen peas pressed to his cheek. They weren't supposed to see each other tonight, but Y/n didn't have time to think about the fact that Harry had come to her for help when they only had been sleeping together for two weeks now.
"Should've gone somewhere else if you wanted gentle," Y/n said, her words coming out icier than she'd intended. Perhaps she was overcompensating to cover up the fact that she didn't like seeing him hurt, but she quickly pushed that thought away until it was practically non-existent. "What the hell were you fighting about anyway?"
Harry had mentioned the fight was enough to get him thrown out of the game, but he didn't say what had pushed him to start it in the first place. Y/n had joined her friends at a handful of hockey games, and each time Harry was a cocky little shit on the ice, sometimes shoving an opponent around or getting in their face, but it was never anything serious. He was a lot of things, but Y/n never considered him to be the overly violent type. She didn't imagine any small thing would've caused him to lose it on someone, especially if it affected his team negatively.
Harry shrugged, but Y/n saw the dark look that crossed his face as he recalled the fight. "Some asshole on the other team was talking shit. I put a stop to it."
Definitely vague, but Y/n had no idea why. She didn't see any reason why he would have to hide his reason for getting in a fight during one of his games. "Well, I hope you got a few good hits in."
"Careful, Princess. You're starting to sound like you care about little old me."
Y/n blushed at Harry's sly grin. Something fluttered in her stomach, but she ignored it, opting to press just a little harder on the cut on his lip. "No. I just had it in my head that I was going to sit on your face tonight, and now I can't."
The look of pure disappointment on Harry's face left Y/n feeling perfectly pleased with herself. She couldn't help the way she swelled with pride at how much he wanted her. She wasn't really sure what that meant, but she didn't feel like putting much thought into it for now.
When Harry tried to lean in for a kiss, his hands, bruised knuckles and all, reaching out for her waist, Y/n stepped out of his grasp. She left the bathroom and headed for the kitchen, returning with an ice pack and tossing it to Harry. "You can crash here tonight if you want," she said. "You know, concussion protocol and everything."
The look Harry gave her was one Y/n couldn't read, but it made her squirm, so she disappeared out of the bathroom once again. Harry didn't follow, so she assumed he was just wrapping up or something. In the meantime, she went to her room, rustling through the stack of vinyls next to her desk before settling on one and and putting on her record player. It crackled for a moment, then music erupted from the speakers, filling Y/n's bedroom and putting her at ease a bit. The truth was, seeing Harry roughed up didn't sit well with her. She worried for him, felt bad that she wasn't there. And she didn't expect to feel that way, she didn't like it. Harry had joked earlier that she was starting to care about him, and that sent her nerves skittering too. That wasn't what this was.
Harry came in a few minutes later, setting his duffle bag in its usual place and picking his way through the dim glow of the twinkly lights. He slipped into bed next to Y/n, kissing up and down her neck and shoulders as he slipped his hands under her sleep shirt. Y/n tilted her head back to kiss him, not really thinking about the cut on his bottom lip. Harry winced a little, but didn't pull away. She did, though, brushing her thumb over his lip gently.
"Sorry," she mumbled. "Maybe we should—"
"No, it's okay. I like the pain," Harry said, and Y/n couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Honestly, it was probably both.
The record continued to play, the melody easing the tension out of both of their shoulders and relaxing Y/n in a way it always did. "No more split lips. I don't like tasting blood when I kiss you."
"I see," Harry said, but there was something in his tone that made her brow furrow. It was the same knowing look he'd given her in her bathroom, but she still couldn't quite make sense of it. It felt like he knew something she didn't, like he saw right through the walls around her heart and knew how she really felt.
Flicking her eyes away from that piercing gaze of his, she shuffled around on her bed, inching down Harry's body as her fingers traced his lithe frame as she went. Harry tried to question her actions, but his voice dissolved into a moan before he could do so. Y/n didn't want to think anymore, didn't want to worry, didn't want her thoughts to travel into territory she considered dangerous. She just wanted him.
Harry's hand found the back of her head, content in her plan to leave the events of the night behind them. He murmured words of encouragement, talking her through it all and guiding her head and caressing her cheek gently with his thumb. The longer she pleasured him, the more that swell of pride came back in full force. She preened at each little reaction he had to her touch, causing her to smile as best she could in her current position.
When it was all said and done, Harry rested his head against Y/n's chest, his breaths deep and slow as the record's first side fizzled to an end. Y/n tried not to think too much into the position they'd found themselves in, or the way lying together felt just as right as having sex did. Her heart flipped as Harry sleepily mumbled, "Thanks for taking care of me," his voice so slurred she wondered if he would remember saying it in the morning.
Y/n couldn't find sleep as she wondered if she wanted him to or not.
*.*
Harry hadn't been a relationship very long, but he thought it was safe to say that he knew when his newly minted girlfriend was positively seething.
Y/n had somehow managed to sit on top of the kitchen counter, and he could see her staring from the doorway that led to the main room of his apartment where he was involved in a particularly intense drinking game. He knew why she was stewing over there, why her fingers tightly gripped the drink he'd gotten for her earlier. They were together now, but it wasn't like they made a formal announcement to anyone, so sometimes a girl would try to flirt at a party or a guy would get a little too comfortable around Y/n.
Neither of them liked to share, but Y/n wasn't as up front about it as Harry tended to be; he preferred to quietly seethe and let her bad mood settle over her while he had no problem letting people know he was hers. He didn't like this girl pressing up against him more than Y/n did, but every time he tried to put distance between them around the table, she just kept inching back to him. Harry fancied himself a gentleman and didn't want to embarrass the freshman by telling her point blank he wasn't interested, but she hadn't taken the subtle hints he was throwing her way, and he wanted to go to sleep a happy boyfriend.
The game wrapped up quickly and Harry did his best to try to get away from the table and head toward Y/n, but a hand rested on his bicep, causing him to turn around to look down at the young woman who'd been flirting with him the entirety of the game. Before she could get a word out, Harry was quick to shut her down. "I have a girlfriend."
"I don't see her," she said, her thumb smoothing over his shirtsleeve, but he quickly shrugged out of her grip and nodded to where he knew Y/n was watching the exchange take place.
And Harry felt it was an important distinction that his girlfriend was staring down the girl, not him.
Y/n's legs were crossed, causing her mini skirt to ride up her legs a couple inches. She wore tights underneath, but Harry only found it hotter. Everything about her turned him on, even the amused raise of her brows as she stared down the freshman who was still standing a little too close for her liking.
A lot was said in that look, and Harry could practically feel the chill from it, even when it wasn't necessarily directed at him. But it did the trick. The girl stepped back, a deep blush staining her cheeks. "Sorry, I'll just..."
And then she was gone, swallowed up by the crowd in search of someone available. Shaking his head, Harry maneuvered his way through his apartment, avoiding the throngs of people who bumped into him and got in his way. He didn't often have parties at his apartment, but tonight was his roommate's birthday, so now there was a hoard of people milling around his living room. He was just glad he had a lock on his door.
That look of irritation thinly veiled by amusement still danced in Y/n's eyes when Harry finally reached her. He was quick to tap her chin with his knuckle, settling one arm on the counter space beside her. "Ease up, tiger. I'm all yours, you know that."
"These underclassmen are bold," was all she said. The base of an R&B song thumped through the apartment, but this close together, Harry could hear her just fine. It was one of Y/n's favorite, and he could tell by the gentle sway of her body that she wasn't as mad as she was letting on.
Very gently, but with enough purpose and a look in his eyes that had Y/n's frosty exterior melting a little, he uncrossed her legs and settled in between them. "You didn't want to come save me?"
Harry took a sip of Y/n's drink when she offered it to him, running a hand through his hair idly. Most days he wore one baseball cap or another on his head, but recently he'd been going without one, perhaps on the off chance that his girlfriend's hands would find their way to his hair and play with it. "What did you want me to do? Go over there and shove my tongue down your throat?"
"I mean...I wouldn't have been opposed."
Sometimes Y/n came off as cold or a little standoffish, at least to those who didn't know her. She was just guarded, but every time Harry managed to put a smile on her face was worth it, each one a mini victory. There was a side to her that only he really knew, and he valued that nearly above everything else in their budding relationship.
"Noted," she said, crossing her arms around his neck. This close, Harry couldn't really do much but breathe in the smell of her perfume and nudge the sensitive skin of her neck with his nose. He swore he could just get drunk on the feel of her alone. Y/n hummed and leaned into him a little more before saying, "I like this song."
"Yeah?" Harry already knew, but he thought it was cute that she felt the need to tell him. As if he wasn't constantly cataloging all the little details that made up who she was.
Y/n nodded, pulling his head up by his hair so his eyes could meet hers. They were practically nose to nose, and he couldn't help the ridiculous smile that spread across his face as he looked into her eyes.
"What's that look for?" she asked.
I'm in love with you. It was the first time the thought had ever occurred to him, but he realized it was true. Harry was in love with Y/n. He'd liked her for a long time, as more than someone he just slept with, but he could tell that Y/n was a little slower to warm up to the idea of Harry being more than just a fuck buddy, so he took what she was willing to give him and bided his time. Now that he knew her even more, that he was able to be more to her, his heart unfurled like a flower in bloom.
Jesus, my teammates would roast the shit out of me if they heard me talking like this, he thought. Then, he realized he never answered Y/n's question. Clearing his throat, he gave her a quick kiss. "Come to bed with me? We can get up early tomorrow and get a morning skate in."
That, above everything, made Y/n's smile widen, and Harry couldn't fight his own when she crossed her legs behind his back and practically leaped into his arms.
*.*
Y/n didn't realize how someone could be so...perfect.
Before Harry waltzed his way into her life, she'd never done the whole relationship thing. She was too focused on skating, on her desire to be the best, to get distracted by things like boys and dates and hand-holding, by things like love. But Harry was just...well, he was unexpected. Now, years later, he was everything to her.
It started out with the small things. In school, he met her early in the morning for training, where she would do laps or work on tricks she was still struggling to master while he watched and reminded her to get water, or he would do drills while she reminded him of the same. They sat in ice baths together or helped each other stretch out their sore muscles, helped each other meal prep or make dinners that were beneficial to both their needs.
And then he became just as important to her off the ice. Harry made a point of reminding Y/n of balance, of enjoying herself outside the rink. They went on dates, studied together in the library, and volunteered at the community center to teach younger kids how to skate. When they were in school, Y/n and Harry had become some sort of unit, and that fact had only made her smile, not run away and hide like she originally thought it would.
Harry used to make her blood boil, now she didn't want to know what life would look like without him.
Currently, Harry was in the kitchen making breakfast. His back was to her, bearing the harsh red marks she left on his skin from last night. The sight made her cheeks flush, though she knew if Harry were to spot the various hickeys on her skin, or the still healing red marks around her wrists, his usual charming grin would become more sly and smug.
Leaning against the counter, Y/n watched Harry do his thing in content. He moved around their kitchen like he'd been there for years when in reality they'd only just moved in a couple months ago. Their previous apartment post-graduation was little more than a closet with a bathroom and a stove. Being in the minor leagues, Harry was offered accommodations with the rest of his team, but he declined so he could live with Y/n, and his paychecks, in the beginning, weren't nearly enough to live comfortably in a metropolitan city.
In some ways, Y/n missed their old apartment. It was way too tiny, the heat barely worked, and the neighborhood wasn't the greatest, but it was theirs, a piece of their history. She liked having to snuggle up so close to Harry simply to keep warm, liked the sweet old man and his little dog that Y/n watched occasionally for extra cash. Now their apartment was perfectly insulated, and their bed was big enough that sometimes it felt like there was too much space, and she wasn't quite sure about her new neighbors yet.
It was good. With Harry, things were always good. It was just different, and Y/n had always had a hard time adjusting to change. She would get there eventually, she just needed to warm up to their new home a bit more.
The expansive kitchen space was a good start, though.
Harry was humming to himself, an R&B song they both loved. His voice was deep and gravelly, and not just because he'd just woken up. Judging by the to-go cups on the kitchen island, he'd been up for a while. No, that was just his natural singing voice, and Y/n would've been irked that her boyfriend just had to be good at everything if his voice didn't make her toes curl.
"You're chipper this morning," she said, finally announcing her presence.
Harry turned around and smiled before turning back to whatever needed his attention at the stove. Y/n took that as her cue to walk over to him, her arms slipping around his waist. She kissed the spot between his shoulder blades, his skin warm despite not having a shirt on. Harry felt solid beneath her touch, but soft enough that she comfortably rested her cheek against him.
He continued to hum, one hand covering Y/n's while the other tended to their breakfast. When he was almost done, she let go and helped Harry get plates and utensils, setting up shop at their dining table while he brought their food over. The table was also a new addition to their home. Before, they just ate at the tiny counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, not having enough room for a proper table and chairs.
Harry pulled Y/n into his lap before she could even think about sitting in her own chair. She turned in her spot and looked down at him with raised eyebrows. "Why did we buy multiple chairs when we only ever use the one?"
It was a joke. Y/n didn't mind sitting on Harry's lap. His schedule was so hectic that sometimes it was weeks before he was able to come home and spend proper time with her. Being this close made up for lost time, and both of them were eager to be apart as little as possible during the off-season.
But Harry responded with an answer that made Y/n pause because she couldn't tell whether he was joking with her or being serious.
"For the kids, obviously."
She tried her hardest not to stiffen when he would be able to feel it. They'd never discussed kids. Ever. And Y/n couldn't tell if he was testing the waters or if he was genuinely being facetious.
"I don't know if sitting in your lap in front of our children would be very appropriate." Y/n managed to add a little sarcasm in her voice, unsure of where this conversation was going. Then, because she wasn't a woman scared of feelings and difficult conversations anymore, she said, "You've never talked about that before."
"About what?"
She leveled Harry with a flat look. "You know what."
Harry shrugged, clearly not as thrown off by this as Y/n was. "Is it a bad thing if I say I want to have your babies one day?"
Babies? As in plural? "Let's just focus on one for now," she said.
"Alright. One. I want a baby," Harry said plainly. "Not like now, or anything, but, like, in the future. I want that to be a step for us somewhere down the line."
Y/n knew Harry wasn't being pushy by being blunt. This was how they spoke when having serious conversations. No beating around the bush, no guessing at subtext or tones or anything like that. They just spoke in clear, declarative statements, though Y/n hadn't imagined having this particular conversation anytime soon.
She just didn't think Harry was there yet. She didn't know if she was there yet. They'd just moved into this apartment, and Harry was blowing up as a rookie in the NHL. Y/n was just getting her feet on the ground as a sports psychologist, with a little bit of coaching on the side because even with a full-time job she still couldn't live her life without skating multiple times a week. She just didn't think a baby fit into their lives right now, not with how they barely had time for each other as it was.
"Tell me what you're thinking," Harry said. He didn't seem put off by her lack of response to what he'd said, though that was probably because he was probably used to it by now.
"I'm not...opposed to the idea," Y/n said, because she really wasn't. If there was one person in this world that she wanted to raise a child with, it would be Harry. She could picture it if she allowed her mind to wander far enough—teaching them how to skate and bundling them up to watch Harry's home games, first Christmases and snow days and first steps at a hockey arena, skating recitals or hockey games where Harry would coach. It was a nice daydream.
"But?" Harry asked, his shoulders tensing, as if waiting for the blow.
"But nothing. I just think...I think I still want to be a little selfish and have you all to myself for a little while longer. I hardly get to see you as it is, you know? A baby would change our whole dynamic, and I feel like I'm finally settling into this new life here. Just the two of us."
Harry nodded. He didn't look disappointed, which filled Y/n with relief. She didn't want to upset him with her answer, but that was where she was at.
"I...agree," Harry finally said. "You made a good point there. I can't compete with a baby for your attention. That wouldn't be fair to the baby."
Y/n threw her head back and laughed. "No, it wouldn't. So we're in agreement then."
"Just you and me. For now."
"For now."
Harry leaned in to kiss her, and Y/n melted against him the second his lips were on hers. He groaned a little as she shifted in his lap before standing up and hauling her away from the breakfast he'd made and the table that started this whole conversation. Y/n didn't protest as he set her down on their bed, hands making quick work of the low slung sweatpants that rested on his hips. Harry brought his hand down between her legs, brows raising at how wet she was.
"Already?"
Y/n propped herself on her elbows and shrugged. "Your singing turned me on earlier."
"Really," Harry said, marveling at the revelation.
"Don't let it get to your head. I also think it's annoying how good you are at everything," she said.
Harry grinned before settling between her legs, his arms circling around her thighs to hold her in the exact way he wanted her. Y/n didn't want to talk anymore, but her boyfriend was a cocky little shit, and she knew she had to wait for him to finish basking in the compliment before they moved on.
"Hm. Maybe Harry Jr. will inherit my talents and become a singer."
"Harry Jr?"
"Or Harriet," Harry mused.
Y/n nudged his shoulder with her foot to bring him out of his reverie. "Look at me H. Not gonna happen."
Shrugging, Harry focused back on the task at hand. "Don't worry, Princess. I'll wear you down. I've got time to convince you."
*.*
Harry could hear the harsh, echoey footsteps of someone running through the halls of the arena, but he didn't open his eyes to see who it was. He didn't have to.
"Jesus, H," Y/n breathed when she skidded to a stop at his side. She sounded frantic, panicked. It was a voice he didn't hear often from his fiance.
To the athletic trainer on his other side, she asked, "Why is he just laying here? He needs to go to the hospital. Get off your ass and call an ambulance before—"
"Easy, Princess. We're waiting for the team doctor."
When Harry finally opened his eyes, just barely as the harsh light of the athletic trainer's office caused his head to throb, Y/n was already looking down at where he laid on the exam bed. There was a lot of raw emotion going through her all at once, Harry could see it on her face. He knew it wasn't long before she fell back on her default setting and shut down completely, hiding behind harsh words and a cold exterior.
"You—"
"I'm fine, bub, I promise," Harry said, though the nausea stirring in his gut at having his eyes open for too long wasn't a good sign. He probably had a concussion. He'd hit his head pretty hard when he fell on the ice, but he thought the sharp pain in his ribs was the major concern. Now he wasn't so sure.
"Don't be a hero," Y/n snapped, but he didn't take it personally. Then, she turned her steely gaze on the athletic trainer—a new hire who was on their own for the first time tonight—and said, "Call. An. Ambulance."
Harry shifted his focus to they young trainer, who looked like they were about to shit themselves under the weight of his fiance's stare. "I—I can't—We have to wait—"
Their gulp was audible as they struggled to string enough words together to form a sentence, which only set Y/n's eyes ablaze even more. Harry knew she was scared, he was sure that his fall looked a lot worse than it actually was. But she couldn't turn the new trainer into a puddle of tears. Not again.
"Y/n, look at me."
Harry watched as her eyes stayed trained on the athletic trainer for a few more seconds before sliding her gaze down to his. He could see the fear behind all that anger and toughness, and he carefully took her hand in his so he could kiss the diamond on her left ring finger. "I'm okay," he said again. "The team doctor is on his way, but we're probably looking at a minor concussion and some cracked ribs. That's all."
"That's all?"
Wrong choice of words. "I said minor, didn't I?"
The truth was the hit Harry took on the ice was one of the worst he'd experienced in his professional career. It was a total accident, just too much momentum between him and a player on the opposing team. But it sent Harry careening across the ice, punching the breath out of his lungs and knocking his helmet right off.
"Sit down and take some deep breaths while we wait for the doctor," Harry tried again. "You're gonna stress out the baby."
Y/n's hand instinctively went to her belly, resting their joined hands over the little bump there. In one of Harry's jerseys, it was hard to feel it through the thick material, but he could, and despite the pain he was in, his heart leaped in his chest at the notion of being close to his baby.
Pregnancy was a surprise to the both of them. They'd had one conversation two years ago about kids, but after that, Harry and Y/n never really brought the subject up again. They were just content to live their lives in the moment, not wanting to plan or stress about the future or what could be. But even if they hadn't anticipated Y/n being pregnant, both of them were excited at the prospect of raising a baby together. After that initial conversation, they decided to hold off on kids, and now, the moment felt just right.
Y/n did as Harry asked, taking a deep breath and easing into the chair beside the exam bed he was on. He watched as some of the initial fear and stress of watching him fall in real time wash away, her eyes fluttering closed as she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. When she opened her eyes, her gaze found the athletic trainer's again.
"Remember to say please," Harry said before she opened her mouth.
Y/n cut him a glare before she looked back at the trainer. "Could you please find out when the doctor will be here?"
The athletic trainer didn't need to be asked twice. They scurried out of the room, and Harry could hear their frantic voice as they begged the team doctor over the phone to get to the arena faster.
"You know, you really gotta be careful, Princess. People might start to think you actually care about me."
It was his attempt at humor, easing the nerves he knew were swirling around inside her. Y/n's shoulders had yet to relax since she came in the room, and her eyes kept scanning his body as if a new affliction was magically going to appear in front of her. Unfortunately for Harry, his words did not have the desired effect. Y/n glared at him while most likely suppressing the urge to hit him.
"This isn't funny!"
"Never said it was."
"God, Harry," she said, her voice cracking beneath the steel she'd been hiding behind. Now that they were alone, her vulnerability started to make an appearance. "You—You scared me."
Harry's gaze softened. "I know, bub. I'm sorry."
Y/n ran a shaking hand through his hair, working through the knots in his tangled curls while her nails scratched his scalp. Harry leaned his head back with closed eyes, enjoying the familiar caress.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, neither of them saying anything as Y/n calmed herself—and Harry—down. Then, he squeezed her hand, peeking and eye open at her and giving her a knowing look. "You have to stop scaring the new hires. They know what they're doing."
"They looked like a child!" she huffed, pausing her ministrations. "We would already be at the hospital by now."
"I really don't think that's necessary," Harry insisted. "Let's just wait for the doctor, okay?"
Some might find Y/n's behavior overbearing, maybe even rude. But she lashed out when she was scared or angry, and even though Harry drove her insane when they first met years ago, she was fiercely protective of him now. And he couldn't really judge her for it, he was the same with her, especially now that she was pregnant. Y/n had chastised him a number of times already for not letting her carry groceries or assemble furniture for the nursery.
Y/n eventually nodded, begrudgingly agreeing to wait for the team doctor. She slumped in her chair beside Harry, exhaling a loud sigh. Harry grinned, slowly reaching for her chin and tilting her head to face him.
"Come give me a kiss. It'll make me feel better."
Under normal circumstances, Y/n would've scoffed. Harry had come home from a number of games and practices all banged up and begging for Y/n to kiss it better. But tonight she was shaken up at the severity of Harry's fall, and probably needed the kiss more than he did, which was why he said something in the first place.
Y/n pecked his lips before pulling away. She tried to, anyway, but Harry held her in place. "Now I know you can do better than that."
For the first time since she'd stormed in, Y/n grinned. It was small, but Harry counted the victory.
"You're trying to distract me," she said.
"Yes. Is it working?"
Y/n's smile grew a fraction. "Maybe."
Harry leaned in, and Y/n met him halfway, pressing their lips together. She tasted like vanilla, and Harry was inclined to taste as much as he could before the doctor arrived. Each kiss worked to melt Y/n, the hand resting on her cheek earning Harry a sweet little nuzzle in his palm when he eventually pulled away.
"I love you,"Harry said, kissing the tip of her nose.
"Love you too," she murmured, her hand reaching to hold the one he still had against her cheek as they waited for the doctor.
"Behave when the doctor gets here, please?"
"I always behave."
Now it was Harry's turn to scoff. He gave her one more kiss as he heard footsteps in the hallway drawing nearer to their door. "I'll remember you said that," he told her, pinching her cheek as a doctor and the same scared trainer entered the room.
"So, Harry. I heard you took a pretty nasty fall—"
"He needs to go to the hospital," Y/n cut in, that look of steel in her eyes once more.
Harry raised his eyes heavenward, bracing himself for a long night.
730 notes · View notes
avatar-anna · 4 days
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Love Games
summary: in which harry and y/n navigate having a secret relationship
young dad!harry, part of this / this universe
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“Never have I ever had a song written about me.”
“Never have I ever made out with someone twice my age.”
“Never have I ever hooked up with a fan.”
With each prompt given, Harry was forced to give the answer that would best fit his image. Everyone laughed or cheered when he revealed that he had in fact done those things, which made the lunch Y/n had an hour earlier curdle in her stomach.
She knew it was all lies, that he’d never done any of those things—unless she counted as a fan—and that this was all part of his carefully curated popstar persona. The real truth was PR stunts and fake dates that made Harry seem a certain type of way to the general public. The truth was that Harry was that Harry wasn’t the womanizer everyone thought he was. The truth was he was the father of a two year old who he helped potty train and taught new words and sang lullabies to. Harry Styles wasn’t who he was portrayed to be, Y/n knew that, but something she couldn’t put a name to irritated her about the game, the questions, and Harry’s answers.
Because another truth was that Harry spent a lot of time on the road. He was handsome, talented, rich, and popular. And Y/n knew that even if those who wanted him knew about her and the daughter she and Harry had, they would still throw themselves at him. Who was to say that after an argument over the phone or if he was just feeling particularly lonely that he didn’t seek the comfort of someone else while she was home with Simone?
It was a terrible thing to think, but rumors about Harry being in a relationship with a model were running rampant the last few days. Rumors about Harry dating someone were always running rampant. Y/n normally didn’t give tabloids and gossip sites much thought, but for some reason it was all getting to her.
“Mumma? Hold you?”
Looking away from the hotel TV—because you couldn’t actually go to the live taping without raising suspicion—she mustered a smile for Simone. “Of course, love bug.”
Y/n swept Simone up into her arms and sat her on her lap. The two year old watched the screen, eyes never leaving it until the commercial break. She clapped and smiled and pointed, reaching her little arms out as if Harry could push through the screen and grab her.
“See Daddy now?” Simone asked, confused as to why she couldn’t see him anymore.
“Soon, baby,” Y/n responded.
And almost like he could sense them talking about him, Y/n’s phone pinged with a new message.
him <3: be back in twenty minutes!
Y/n knew it wasn’t his fault, and she knew that none of what he admitted to was true, but she couldn’t shake her doubts like she normally could. So she gave him a simple “ok” and turned her phone over. She looked down at Simone, who she could always rely on to cheer her up.
Her daughter’s face was the perfect mix of her and Harry. She had Y/n’s nose and Harry’s wide green eyes, her pouty lips and his deep dimples. She was too cute not to smile at, Y/n often found. Harry traveled the world, but hers was right here in her arms.
“How about some room service? You want chicken nuggets, bug?”
Simone nodded enthusiastically, and Y/n put the order in soon after.
When Harry came back to the hotel room, his bandmates followed, bringing all their usual noise and chaos. Some days Y/n would kick them out because she was trying to put Simone down for a nap, but the little one was still happily munching on cut up pieces of chicken, so she didn’t mind as much.
“Little Styles!”
Harry, Louis, Liam, and Niall all came into the room, crowding around Simone’s high chair. Simone smiled up at the boys, but it was her dad she reached for. He quickly took her out of the high chair so he could pick her up so the boys could play with her, and Y/n saw that as an opportunity to step away. She wasn’t sure if Harry knew she was upset, but she didn’t know if she could fake being fine either way. So while everyone fawned over Simone, Y/n slipped into the bathroom.
Her and Simone’s hotel room was standard—two full beds next to each other, one bath, a TV mounted on the wall, a small desk. Harry had a suite a few floors above them to not raise any questions as to why he would need a high chair or anything remotely baby related sent up to his room. As far as the hotel was concerned, Y/n and Simone were guests completely separate from Harry Styles and the rest of One Direction.
That notion squeezed Y/n’s heart uncomfortably too. She didn’t need to be in a suite or anything fancy like that, but she hated the way Harry’s management treated her and Simone. They couldn’t go to his shows, or they could, but Y/n couldn’t hold Simone so as not to raise suspicion about a young mother backstage at a One Direction concert. Any time spent together as a family was inside a hotel room—hers, never his. And absolutely no dates or staying the night.
Things hadn’t always been like this, but Harry explained that after Zayn left, the leash had been tightened on all the boys. There would be no room for error on anyone’s part, especially nothing as big as a baby scandal.
Y/n never said it to Harry, but sometimes she was selfishly grateful for the hiatus One Direction were taking soon. She didn’t want to announce to the world that she was Harry’s long-time girlfriend and mother of his two year old daughter, but she just didn’t want to feel suffocated like this anymore, or feel like there were people on Harry’s team who despised her and Simone for just existing.
Tears were on Y/n’s cheeks before she even realized it, the pinch of cold on the tracks they left behind being the only indication. She hastily wiped them away, knowing Harry or one of the boys would eventually notice her absence and come looking for her. Once she felt like she’d composed herself, she unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out. Liam, Louis and Niall were on their way to the door when she shuffled out of the bathroom, all of them awarding her with big hugs and warm smiles.
“You okay?” Louis asked quietly so no one but Y/n could hear him.
She nodded wordlessly, but he gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder and a tender smile before leaving the room with the other two boys. Of all the boys—besides Harry, of course—she’d become the closest to Louis.
The door clicked shut, and there was silence. Walking down the short hall, she reached the main space of the hotel room to find Simone back in her high chair and Harry feeding her. Y/n’s body filled with warmth at the sight, making her almost forget about all the things she’d felt the last couple hours.
She hadn’t made much noise, but Harry looked over to where she was standing. “Hey. Everything alright?”
“No, not really, but I don’t want to talk about it in front of her,” Y/n said with a smile.
“Do you want me to ask one of the boys to watch her while we talk in my room?”
She couldn’t keep the bite out of her voice as she replied, “I didn’t realize I was allowed to be in your room.”
Harry sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his face. He’d grown up so much since Y/n first met him, and yet he still looked so young. If she didn’t know him, she would never guess he was a dad, and she suspected Harry would say the same.
She wondered what life would’ve been like for the both of them if they’d never met, if they hadn’t been so careless one night. This life was difficult at times, and frustrating at others, but Y/n would put up with all of this again if it meant having Simone, but she did wonder.
“Of course you are,” Harry said, but he didn’t sound sure. Because the truth was he didn’t actually know if Y/n was allowed to be in his suite. Sometimes she thought Harry’s management worried that leaving the two of them alone for too long would result in another pregnancy, but no one ever said that was the reason, of course. “Y/n, can we please talk—”
“I—I think I just need some air. Can you watch her for a little?” she ended up saying.
Y/n could tell that Harry wanted to talk about whatever it was that was bothering her, but he didn’t try to stop her. “Yeah. Go ahead.”
“Text me if you need anything,” was all she said before she left.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Harry knew he was in hot water, he just couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
The comment about being allowed into his hotel suite gave him a pretty good idea, but it seemed like it was more than that. He knew that Y/n put up with a lot, that being holed up with a two year old like this all the time wasn’t easy, but usually they were able to talk through their issues and come to a resolution together. But Y/n seemed so distant before she left. It made Harry incredibly nervous.
He loved Y/n with every fiber of his being. She was his best friend and greatest confidant, she supported him and cheered him on as he achieved so much, and was there for him whenever it all became too much. She was the first person he told about Zayn leaving, had listened to him rant and complain and try to make sense of one of his closest friends keeping such deep struggles a secret. She was everything to him, he just hoped she knew that.
“More please.”
Harry’s thundercloud of thoughts cleared for Simone, his mouth immediately forming a smile. “More?” he asked, pretending to be astounded. “You want more?”
Simone nodded, the curls on her forehead bouncing with the movement. Harry was going to cut up another piece of chicken for her anyway, but that smile would’ve sealed the deal.
When she was done eating, Harry took her out of the high chair and set her on the floor to play with some of her toys. He kept a watchful eye, knowing there was plenty of things in the hotel room a toddler could get into but shouldn’t. But she just sat on the floor and played with her plastic magnets, stacking them together and making new shapes. Harry sat with her, marveling at her creations when she showed them off and helping her build a tower just to knock them down.
Y/n found them sitting together when she came back to the room, feeling a little better than she had when she left. Harry didn’t say anything as she sat down next to him, though a wave of relief washed over him when she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Sometimes I just wish it was all over now and we didn’t have to deal with all of this, you know?” she breathed, watching Simone play with her toys.
“I’m sorry,” he said, knowing there wasn’t much else he could say. A lot of her stress was because of him.
Despite her best efforts, she sniffled. “I just hate the constant rumors and people thinking you’re available to be hit on or flirted with. And I know you would never cheat on me. I know that, but sometimes when it’s constantly in my face I can’t help but
” Y/n didn’t finish that thought, they both knew what she wasn’t saying. “And when it’s all over, I don’t even get the comfort of you holding me at night because—because—”
Harry did his best to hold her despite the angle they were sitting at. At first he was hurt at the implication that she thought he would ever cheat on her, but he wasn’t quite sure how he would handle everything if the roles were reversed. The fact that she was still here, still talking to him, meant more than words could describe.
“I—I’m yours, Y/n,” he said softly, but not without conviction. “Nothing matters to me more than what’s in this room. You and Simone have my heart.”
“I know,” she said, like she actually believed it. “It just feels like the world is against us sometimes.”
Harry knew “the world” was a stand-in for his management. They made their lives exponentially more difficult emotionally, but there wasn’t much he could do. Even during the hiatus, Harry would still be contracted with them, forced to play by their rules and hide Y/n and Simone away like they were something to be ashamed of.
“I’m gonna stay here tonight,” Harry finally said.
“Are you sure?” Y/n asked, knowing he’d get in a lot of trouble for risking exposure. Even if all management had to do was make people sign an NDA, they never wanted to take that chance. Y/n often supposed that their vigilance was something to appreciate, but she also thought their methods could be harsh.
“Yeah. I’ve missed having you in my arms too.”
She took her head off his shoulders then, their faces close enough that their noses were touching. Y/n nudged his with hers until he leaned in for a kiss. It was soft, nothing too intense while their two year old was playing right in front of them.
Later that night when Simone was fast asleep, Harry and Y/n stayed up, talking about everything and nothing. They both missed the intimacy of late night chats in bed, and though Harry had to be up early tomorrow morning, he made no attempts to go to sleep.
“Let’s go somewhere,” he whispered, thumbs caressing her bare shoulder.
He was talking like he could do whatever he wanted and go anywhere he wanted at the drop of a hat, but Y/n didn’t pop the bubble. She didn’t want to.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere no one will find us. Somewhere no one knows who I am.”
“Might be a hard place to find,” she mused, playing with the rings on his finger.
She admired each one on his hand, pausing at the one on his ring finger. Her own was bare, there was no way they would ever be allowed to get engaged. But it was something she thought about amidst her busy life as a mom. Y/n often went back and forth between letting the world know that Harry was hers and hers only, as he’d promised, and keeping their love to themselves. Today was a shout it from the rooftops kind of day.
“I want it too,” Harry said, his eyes having tracked her gaze to where her bare finger lay tangled with his. They were young, sure, but they’d been through a lot together the last few years. He wanted her as badly as the day they first met, and if that wasn’t a sign that he was meant to be with her forever, he didn’t know what was.
Y/n turned so that she was facing him. Her eyes were heavy like they were fighting off sleep, but she kept them open. His long hair was splayed across the pillow, tangled from where her hands had rucked it up earlier. Harry, for whatever reason, had decided he wanted to grow it out. Y/n didn’t mind, though, she thought it made him even more irresistible. And the way Simone held a strand of it in her little fist whenever he held her was absolutely adorable.
“Want what?” she asked, even though she knew.
Harry leaned forward. Their lips touched, but he wouldn’t kiss her. Instead he mumbled, “To make you my wife. To let anyone who’s ever looked twice know that you have a husband.”
His words made her shiver. Harry’s jealousy didn’t show itself very often because they couldn’t be seen in public together. But he wasn’t an idiot. Y/n was breathtaking when they met, and she was even more so now. He could only imagine how many times people tried to flirt with her when he was away. Just the thought lit a spark of jealousy in him.
Y/n ran a hand through his hair. “Good to know we’re still wildly possessive of each other.”
Harry chuckled and kissed the spot just above her brow. “Always will be.”
She kissed him, leaving him no time to react before pushing her tongue past the seam of his lips. Harry groaned appreciatively, the low rumble making her toes curl. Y/n relished every movement, every stroke of his tongue against hers, each inch of her skin he claimed with his hand.
They were as quiet as they could be, aware of their daughter in her crib just a few paces away. A mouth on the shoulder to muffle, slow movements that didn’t have them breathing heavily but still sent them reeling, kisses that swallowed any noises that wanted to escape. By the end of it, they were littered with love bites and completely spent.
Y/n rested her head against Harry’s chest, her hand resting on his stomach as her thumb caressed the soft skin there. He worked out quite often and was in great shape, but she loved that he had a little bit of a belly.
“What would the world think if they knew Harry Styles had a dad bod?” Y/n murmured, giving him a soft pinch.
“Hey,” Harry replied, but wasn’t actually offended. “You love this body.”
“I do.”
Tipping her head up, she kissed him, sighing against the comfortable slide of his lips against hers. She was about to rest her head back on his chest when there was movement from the crib and a soft cry.
Shimmying into a pair of pants, Harry went over to the crib and picked up Simone. “Just this once,” he said, laying her down between him and Y/n, who didn’t hesitate to take her into her arms. In seconds, Simone was fast asleep, her cheek squished up against Y/n’s shoulder.
“Perfect,” she heard Harry whisper before his arm snaked over Y/n’s waist. Simone’s hand subconsciously reached for Harry, latching onto his hair. He kissed her cheek once before resting his head on his pillow once more before falling asleep, savoring the peace he felt of sleeping with his family in his arms.
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avatar-anna · 4 days
Text
"Hey, Y/n!"
What's up, Y/n?"
Harry heard the soft lilt of his girlfriend's voice as she responded to his co-workers before making her way through the parlor to his workroom. He listened as Y/n shuffled inside, the door shutting with a soft click behind her. She set her things down on the ground before sitting in the stool opposite him. Looking up briefly from the report he was reading, he smiled, beckoning her over with one hand. Not needing to be told once let alone twice, Y/n made herself comfortable on Harry's lap, leaning against his chest with her eyes closed while he finished up.
"Hey, bunny. How was rehearsal?"
"Okay, I guess," she murmured, and Harry paused again to kiss her exposed neck. The tight bun her hair was knotted in tickled his nose, but he was used to it. "The full run-through wasn't a complete disaster."
"That's good," Harry said, squeezing her thigh. "I bet you nailed your variation."
Y/n briefly lifted her head so her gaze met his, an amused glint in her eye. "Variation, huh?"
Harry took the opportunity to kiss the tip of her nose. "Don't act like I don't listen."
Grinning, she settled back down. "Are you almost finished?"
Taking his reading glasses off, he ran a tired hand over his face. He probably should've called it a night. It wasn't his turn to close the shop, and he didn't have anymore appointments. It was a night they both planned for, had both marked their calendars in the hopes of spending an uninterrupted evening alone. And even though he wanted nothing more than to haul Y/n upstairs to his apartment, he always had a tough time wrapping up his work day.
"I will be soon. Promise," he said. "You can go up and take a bath, unwind, do whatever you need to do."
Y/n, who had been patiently awaiting his answer, turned in his lap. She ran her hands up and down Harry's shoulders as she nudged his cheek with her nose before kissing it, then kissed her way down to his neck. The paper he'd been holding nearly fell to the floor when she grazed her teeth along a particularly sensitive spot, chills curling up his spine as he gripped her waist with one hand.
"What if I want to unwind with you, daddy?"
Harry's eyes squeezed shut, a thick swallow passing down his throat. Y/n must've had a harder time at rehearsals than she let on if she was being like this so openly. The door was closed, and she'd mumbled in his ear so that no one else could've possibly heard what she said, but she rarely spoke like that when they were alone unless he coaxed it out of her.
"Yeah? You need to be taken care of tonight?" he asked. Part of him didn't want to, but he pulled Y/n from where she was undoubtedly sucking a hickey onto his skin. Not that it could easily be seen under all the ink there, but it was the thought, the sensation, that counted. "You feeling like you need to be babied a little?"
Y/n blushed, embarrassed by his words, but perhaps by the way they made her feel too. How right they were. She did want to be taken care of tonight. She didn't want to think about a single thing except him, consume him using all five of her senses. Still, she shrugged and nodded only once, not meeting Harry's eyes.
"Oh, come on. You can do better than that, can't you?"
Harry's voice lightly teased, a smile creeping up the corners of his mouth.
He never thought he'd be so lucky as to have this woman in his lap, eager to get lost in the feeling of him, to be taken care of by him. When they met, she'd barely said two words at all, let alone to him, having followed her friend into the tattoo parlor while she got inked by Harry. Y/n stood in the corner of Harry's workroom the whole time, an earbud in one ear, hardly paying attention to the fact that the only thing keeping him from looking at her for long periods of time was the tattoo gun in his hands and her friend in the chair beneath him.
It was her solo music, he later discovered. Y/n was always listening to her performance music when opening night was mere days away. And she ran the number in her head too, delicately moving her hands about, eyes staring upwards at nothing while she moved through the variation in her mind. According to her, she never realized she did it until Harry pointed it out.
He'd immediately been taken by Y/n. She'd been quiet that day in the tattoo parlor, but not shy. Y/n had seemed to hold herself with a certain poise that had felt alien in his workroom. There was no judgement, no upturned nose at the parlor or the people decked out head to toe in tattoos in it. She'd sniffed a little at Harry's attempts at flirty jokes and outright refused when he asked her on a date, but he wasn't deterred.
Harry had been vaguely aware of the ballet company a few blocks from the tattoo parlor and made sure to be there on opening night with the biggest bouquet of flowers he could afford. Y/n, who had spotted his ink covered hands and neck, his tattered jean jacket and ripped jeans, among the throngs of suits and ties and gowns, could only deny the flutter in her belly at the fact that he'd come to see her perform.
The rest was history.
Y/n leaned forward now, as if to kiss Harry, but he haltingly placed a finger on her lips. He merely raised a brow, but her shoulders slumped.
"Please, daddy? I've had the longest day. I just want you to help me stretch and maybe rub my shoulders."
And brush her hair, and feed her snacks in bed, and heat up her socks in the dryer so that they were nice and warm when she put them on. Y/n expected the royal treatment, but only because Harry had given her no reason to believe she didn't deserve it. From the moment she agreed to a date with him, he worshipped the ground she walked on, and after seeing how exhausted ballet rehearsals made her, he only wanted to see her perfectly happy and relaxed around him.
"Five more minutes, I promise," Harry said, kissing her pouted lips briefly.
"Two."
Harry raised his brows. "Five."
"Three."
"Four, and that's my final offer."
Y/n nodded, her hand reaching up to smoothe the curls that had fallen in Harry's eyes away from his face. She loved playing with his hair, he'd learned. So much so that he almost wanted to grow it out, just to see her reaction.
Harry made good on his promise, finishing up his final tasks quickly and packing away his things. He made a note to put in an order for more ink and sanitation supplies before leading Y/n out of the workroom and locking up after them. He shouldered her bag, nodding to his mates at their workstations before retiring upstairs to his apartment. The sound of loud music and the whirring of tattoo guns were left below, a calm sort of quiet settling over him and Y/n.
He was hers the rest of the night. Harry sat behind Y/n in his bathtub that was just big enough for the two of them, kissing her and letting her run her hands all over him however she saw fit. He was a little surprised she had so much energy after rehearsal, but he wasn't about to complain. Every kiss was a reward of its own after their respective long days. And when she opened her legs a little wider, a clear invitation, he didn't hesitate.
Later, when they were both bathed and ready for bed, Y/n sat on the floor of Harry's bedroom, her legs spread apart as she leaned forward. She'd claimed she needed his help earlier but had yet to ask, though he figured a massage at the end of her stretches would do the trick.
"How is everything down there?" she asked.
She didn't have to say anything more for him to understand what she meant. "Good. Could be better."
"It looked busy when I came in," Y/n said, changing positions.
"Yeah, but last night was nearly dead," Harry admitted. "I just don't know how to keep it consistent."
"I'm sorry if I pulled you away from work."
"You didn't," Harry promised. "But I have thought about extending my hours so I can see more clients. Not until after your opening night, though."
Finally standing up, Y/n padded over to where Harry laid on the bed. Riding up on the bed, he patted the spot in front of him, encouraging her to sit. She did, the tension in her body leaving on a long exhale as he began to knead the tight muscles in her shoulders. Neither of them spoke, both of them content to sit in silence after a long day's work. Both Harry and Y/n tried to leave work outside of the bedroom for both of their sakes, unless Harry begged Y/n to show him some of what she'd worked on in rehearsals. They agreed earlier on that balance was key. Even though their careers were beyond different, they were both time consuming. Nights together in their bedroom was just for them, nothing else.
When she felt thoroughly relaxed, Y/n slid into bed next to Harry, her arm slipping over his stomach as she pressed herself against his side. The smell of his soap mingled with the shampoo she kept in his shower for overnight stays was nearly dizzying. Harry had always been enamored by the smell of Y/n's perfume, but when she started staying over, and their natural scents began to mix together, he could hardly think straight. He was so gone for this girl, and he didn't think she even realized it.
"You don't think you're spreading yourself too thin? I know money's tight, but I still want you to do your job because it makes you happy, not because you feel like you have to to make ends meet."
Harry never considered the logistics of running his own tattoo parlor, it was never what he'd set out to do. Sure, he loved tattooing, and when his old boss felt it was time to retire, Harry didn't hesitate to accept the offer of running things for him. He felt like he had ideas and experience, a clientele that was sustainable and a well-enough known name to get by. But now there was payroll, and bills, and inventory, and bookkeeping. His old boss had stayed on for a few months until Harry got the hang of things, and he supposed he was decent at running the tattoo parlor, but now he was more of a manager than an artist, and that was something he foolishly hadn't anticipated.
"I'll be okay."
"You promise? You'd tell me if you weren't happy, right? Because I can start babysitting again—"
Harry interrupted Y/n with a kiss, effectively cutting that thought at the knees. "Absolutely not. You're supposed to focus on ballet and nothing else."
Y/n frowned, quite familiar with this argument. She appreciated his dedication to her career and his desire to want her to succeed, but his work mattered to her just as much.
"But if we eventually want a bigger place—"
"We'll get there."
"I just don't want you to be the only one making sacrifices, H."
Running a hand through her damp hair, he said, "No one is sacrificing anything, okay? We're gonna make this work. We always do."
Y/n looked disbelieving at first, but she eventually cupped his cheek, her thumb rubbing back and forth over him gently. From the moment they met, Harry had been so selfless, and he made it increasingly difficult to return the favor. She loved him for it, but it made her want to shake him all the same sometimes. "You're really fine with extending your hours?"
"Here and there," Harry promised. "For more appointment time, not the business stuff."
"Fine," Y/n relented. "But I'm asking my instructor if she needs help teaching classes."
Harry could tell her mind was made up, and she was just as stubborn as he could be. He nodded, letting the topic go for now, but he knew they'd circle back to it in a few days, maybe a week. Right now, it was time to leave work behind them. They'd already talked about it more than they normally let themselves.
Y/n obviously felt the same, the hand on his cheek traveling down his neck and over his shoulder, tracing the ink that littered his skin as she kissed the corner of his mouth. "No more talking about extra shifts," she murmured. She sucked on the silver hoop pierced through Harry's lip, tugging on it slightly until his mouth devoured hers in a kiss that made them both sigh audibly. Y/n's hand kept moving, sneaking past the waistband of his sweatpants and beneath his briefs, dull nails scratching at sensitive skin until he groaned.
"How do you want me tonight, daddy?" she murmured when Harry finally stopped sucking her bottom lip.
"However you want, bunny. It's up to you."
It was almost always up to Y/n. Harry would never do something if Y/n wasn't one hundred percent okay with it, but she liked to ask, and he liked to let her, if only to hear her call him that name.
Harry's own hands explored, slipping under Y/n's sweats and gripping her slender waist, kneading the powerful muscles in her legs, tucking a finger or two in the juncture between her thighs, but not quite where she wanted to feel them. She whined, but he wouldn't give in until she told him precisely what she wanted, though it was hard for her to talk when his other hand circled her breast and he kept pulling kiss after kiss from her rosy lips. That was his intent—to tease, to make it nearly impossible to tell him what she wanted until she got all huffy and just took it from him. Y/n was so cute when she took matters into her own hands. And sexy, beyond sexy.
"Your dick, please."
"Where? In your mouth? Ow!" he said, yelping when she pinched the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. "Geez, alright, I'll give you what you want. Wait while I grab a condom, will you?"
Y/n made herself comfortable on the bed while Harry rooted around in his nightstand for a condom. He made a mental note to add a new pack to his grocery list as he found one after pushing things around a little too long.
"You think you're ready?" he asked her as he slid the condom on.
Y/n nodded. "Always."
Laughing a little, Harry made himself comfortable between her spread thighs. He kissed her jaw, then the spot behind her ear as he eased himself inside, careful not to go too fast. Y/n had other plans, though, gripping his ass impatiently to move him along. "Who's doing all the work here?" he asked her mockingly, though he still picked up the pace a little.
"I'd do it if you let me," she huffed, but not before arching her back.
Noting the challenge in her voice, Harry deftly flipped them over. Raising his brows, he rested his hands behind his head. "Go on, then."
He didn't expect her to, but Y/n began to move, a stubborn furrow in her brow, though it eventually faded to something more blissed out and relaxed. Harry kept his hands at her waist, gripping them tightly and resisting the urge to thrust upwards. Because she was right, of course. Harry couldn't help but take things into his own hands—set the pace, position her where he knew she felt the best, determining how and when they both finished. Y/n was usually more than happy with the dynamic, but she seemed perfectly pleased with herself as she rode him too.
"Go on, daddy. Know you want to," she exhaled, tightly gripping his shoulders. "Please?"
Both of them were lovingly predictable, but neither of them minded. Y/n laid herself across his chest while Harry began to thrust into her, hard enough that her eyes squeezed shut and began to mumble incoherently. Harry whispered in her ear how good she felt around him, how greedy she was for wanting to come again after doing so twice in the bathtub but that he loved her for it, how he knew she was close just by the sounds she made. All of it went to her head and the pulsing in her thighs, making it hard to think about anything but how he made her feel, and he teased her for that too.
"What happened to that mouth of yours, hm? Where'd you go? My cock too big for you to think properly?"
Harry was hardly one to talk. Sometimes she squeezed around him so hard his vision went blissfully white, but he wasn't the one who got off being teased about it.
"M—More," was all Y/n could manage before she ducked her head into the crook of his neck, sucking love bite after love bite in quick succession.
They finished in a heap of sweaty and tangled limbs. Harry breathed heavily as he brushed a hand through Y/n's hair, pulling a few strands away from her cheek. She rested on his chest, making no attempts to move. Harry knew she could fall asleep like this, so he nudged her shoulder to keep her from doing so.
"Hey you," he cooed. "We need to get cleaned up, then we can go to sleep."
Y/n shook her head as best she could while laying on his chest. "Could stay like this forever. Like feeling full."
Harry's face flushed as he kissed her temple. "I'm flattered, but we should still clean up."
"One of these days I'm going to convince you," she grumbled, sliding off him with a huff.
Chuckling, Harry said, "What? Falling asleep with my cock in you? I'd be happy to one day, bunny, but the last thing we need is a baby scare."
Grumbling, Y/n sat up and shrugged back into her shirt. She knew he had a point, but her brain was still a little fuzzy and it clouded her judgement. She wasn't on any birth control, having not liked the way it changed her so much—the mood swings, the weight gain, the lethargy. Not only did it affect her day to day life, but it affected her dancing. It was a choice she made when she was in her last years of ballet school, and thankfully Harry had been understanding when she told him.
Slipping off the bed, Harry quickly disposed of the condom and examined himself in the mirror. Even through the tattoos that covered nearly every inch of his upper body, could see the faint red marks and cute little bruises, that littered his skin. It was the same every time, but something about seeing it left Harry feeling very pleased.
When he reentered his bedroom, Y/n was nearly asleep, one long leg half thrown over his side of the bed. He shook his head to himself before maneuvering around his girlfriend. She was the most graceful person Harry had ever met, but when she slept—or when she was half asleep, in this case—she was about as immovable as a large rock.
"Move over, bunny."
"Hm."
Rolling his eyes, Harry carefully lifted Y/n's leg, ignoring her groans of protest until she was settled back against him. She sighed deeply, then pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Night."
The last thing Harry felt was amusement as he settled deeper into the pillows. "Night, baby," he mumbled, kissing the top of her head before closing his eyes.
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avatar-anna · 5 days
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I was thinking you could do a “5 times y/n told Harry she was pregnant” for the young!dad series !! That would be so interesting especially since in the last piece you mentioned that Harry already had a feeling she was pregnant before she even told him
The Thing About Having Six Kids
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so i got this ask and a couple others that were kind of about the kids' birth/pregnancy a while ago, and went with five different instances about each kid in the youngdadrry universe. it's all surrounding their birth, finding out about pregnancies, etc. enjoy!
Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader
Simone
(a text conversation between Harry and Y/n)
Y/n: i'm pregnant
(one day later)
Y/n: Harry?
Harry: Are you sure?
Y/n: i'm sure
Y/n: i have four different pregnancy tests to prove it
Harry: I don't know what to say.
Y/n: the 24 hours it took you to respond kind of told me that
Harry: I'm sorry about that. It's just...a lot
Y/n: it's fine i guess. at least you finally responded.
Harry: Did you think I wouldn't?
Y/n: honestly? yeah. it's not like we're married or in love or anything. you don't even live in the same country as me
Harry: What are you going to do?
Harry: I know but I wouldn't just like disappear on you
Harry: I was just shocked that's all
Y/n: idk. i'm still trying to figure out a way to tell my parents
Harry: Shit my parents!
Y/n: that's kinda where i'm at right now
Y/n: but i think i want to keep it
Y/n: the baby
Y/n: fuck that sounds crazy to say. i have physics homework due tomorrow but let me stop and make a life altering decision really quick about whether i want to have a baby or not
Harry: I'm sorry. You know...
Y/n: for getting me pregnant? knocking me up? putting a bun in the oven?
Harry: It seems too early to joke about this
Y/n: it's keeping me from freaking the fuck out at the moment
(ten minutes later)
Harry: I want to talk about this properly and figure this whole thing out but I have to go
Y/n: please don't feel obligated or anything. this was just a courtesy
Y/n: i don't expect anything from you. i get it if your management wants you to delete my number and never see me again. i just thought you should know.
Harry: What are you talking about?
Harry: Y/n?
3 missed calls from Him <3
Collette
"Let's have another baby."
Y/n was close to nodding off, so it was very possible that she was dreaming. She looked behind her. It was dark in the bedroom, but Harry was close enough that she could see him, could see that his head was propped on his elbow so he could look down at her.
"What did you say?" she asked, because she needed to be sure.
"I...I want another baby," he said, voice soft even though they were the only two people in the room. Simone was fast asleep in her own bedroom, tuckered out after a long day of playing at the park and eating ice cream and fingerpainting with Harry. Now that One Direction was officially on hiatus, it was just the three of them—Y/n, Harry, and Simone. Y/n thought it would take some getting used to, living a relatively normal life. But their little family actually fell into it quite easily.
Perhaps a little too easily.
"Say something."
Y/n hadn't realized she failed to respond, but to be fair, that was a pretty big bomb her husband just dropped. Her husband. They'd been married for a few months now, but it still felt surreal, which was probably why the idea of having another baby felt too far from reality to comprehend.
"I just...I don't know what to say," Y/n said honestly. "I—I'm not sure we're ready for that."
"We weren't ready the first time," Harry said when Y/n finally flipped on her other side to face him. This seemed like a conversation he really wanted to have, so she thought facing him would probably be best. "I just think this might be the time, you know? I don't have an insane schedule anymore, there's no more management to say that we can't, and I've always thought about giving Simone a sibling. Don't tell me you've never thought about it."
"I...I have," Y/n said.
She did think about more kids. As young as she and Harry were and as impossible as their relationship seemed at times, Y/n couldn't help but think about wanting more. She loved Harry, and she'd been loving these moments they'd been able to share as a proper family recently. Harry was right, if they wanted to have another baby, now would be the time.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he said as she felt more than saw his hand push some hair away from her face.
"What happens when you start working again?" Y/n asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I know you, H," she said. "And I love you. Everything about you. And one of the parts that make you who you are is the music. This...this little bubble we're in, I love it too, but I know you'll want to go back to it someday. And then you'll go on tour for ten months, and I'll be alone to raise two kids by myself for a majority of the year."
It was harsh, but she trusted him enough to take it. This was the thought that always held her back. Y/n thought about the possibility of expanding their family on more than one occasion, especially in recent weeks when things have been practically perfect. But the reality was that Harry would want to go back to work. She knew, maybe better than anyone, the desire he had to make his own music, to create and write in ways he couldn't while in the band. And perform. Harry loved to perform live. Y/n knew that this time spent with just their family was fleeting, and she cherished every minute of it, the same way she knew Harry did. It was only a matter of time before he went back to work, and she wasn't sure she could raise Simone and a newborn without him.
"That's...That's all over now," Harry said. When Y/n tried to protest, he continued on. "What I meant to say was, the ridiculous schedules, the strict rules about when we can and can't spend time together, the separate hotel rooms. Mama, things can be different now."
"But management—"
"I bought out my contract," he said. "I haven't really given it much thought in a while because I just want to be present with you and Simone, but I've got a few people in mind for new managers. People who will prioritize our family."
This was certainly news to Y/n. It was hard to talk about Harry's management or the harsh thumb they pinned him under, so oftentimes it was a topic they avoided. Hearing him say this now, knowing how much money it would've taken to buy out his contract...that was a huge deal. As far as she knew, the other boys were just sticking with it until the contracts were finished. But Harry went and did what Y/n didn't even think was possible.
"Our family," Y/n repeated, and for a moment, she could see it. The three of them becoming four. It was crazy to think about, to think so far ahead into the future, but Y/n wasn't scared by it.
"Let's have another baby," Harry said again.
Looking at him, Y/n's heart squeezed in her chest. He'd been growing his hair out for a while now, and it was long enough that it reached just passed his shoulders. She loved it, thought it made him look older, more mature. And okay, hot. And Simone loved it too. She loved braiding it and putting bows and flowers in it or just twisting it around her finger. His shoulders were broad and lean, though he'd put on a little muscle in his arms from doing handiwork around the house, something he claimed he loved to do even though Y/n had heard him curse from another room while he worked on his latest project.
She looked at his face, the one that looked so different yet so similar to the one she'd met when she was seventeen. She wondered what those teenagers would think of the people they'd become, of the things they'd seen and experienced.
She thought about it. The baby-to-be. It would have Harry's eyes and smile, her nose and hair color. If it was a girl, she could wear matching outfits with Simone, if it was a boy...Well, they could maybe still match. Y/n thought about all the baby clothes—the adorable little onesies and shoes and mittens to keep the baby from scratching their face while they slept. She didn't let herself think of the late nights and sore boobs and dirty diapers. In this moment, she just thought about all the good feelings, every perfect moment that could be.
"You promise things will be different? I can't—I can't do it alone," she said, needing to hear him say it again.
Harry didn't try to kiss her, he didn't put his hands on her waist or pull her to his chest—all tactics he would normally use to distract her. This conversation was too serious, too important, and she loved him all the more for understanding that.
"I promise, Y/n," he said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. "I will never make you regret living this life with me."
"That's not what I—"
"I know, but I just...I needed to say it."
He needed to make that promise to her, to himself. Life had not been easy, and Y/n knew Harry blamed himself for a lot of the hardships they faced.
"I don't," she said, kissing their joined hands. "And I won't. Ever. "
Harry grinned, and Y/n could tell even in the dark that his gaze was a little watery. Still, he inched forward and said, "So...?"
Y/n leaned forward and kissed him, her leg slotting between his. "Let's have another baby."
Maeve and Jules
"I'm sorry, did you just say twins?"
"I did. I'm seeing two heartbeats here. See?" The doctor said, pointing at the monitor she'd been observing closely the last five minutes.
Y/n couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. It was one thing to be pregnant (again), but an entirely different one to be pregnant with twins. "That's—"
"Amazing," Harry breathed.
Y/n turned her head away from the monitor to look at her husband, whose eyes were glued to the screen with a look of wonder in them. As she'd begun to process her own feelings about housing not one but two babies in her belly for nine months, she hadn't really considered how he might feel about it.
Looking at him now, she could tell he was ecstatic.
Y/n was still panicking a little, but seeing the elation on Harry's face was comforting. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it hard, needing to feel the warmth of his palm to ground her.
"Hey," he said softly, bending down to kiss the top of her head. "This is a good thing. Unexpected, but good."
"I know," Y/n said, letting out a shaky breath. "I know it's just...a lot. I mean...twins?"
"Nothing we can't handle," Harry said, kissing her cheek.
His confidence was reassuring. Maybe he was freaking out on the inside and not letting it show for her sake, but Y/n felt better about the situation at hand and was ready to continue with the appointment.
To the doctor, she said, "Are they healthy?"
The doctor smiled warmly. "They are. It looks like one of them is about a week behind, but that's nothing to worry about."
"Really? They're twins. That doesn't seem possible," Harry said, his brow furrowing adorably.
"It's rare, but it is possible. Fraternal twins can be conceived as much as twenty-four days apart," the doctor said.
Y/n understood perhaps a split-second before Harry, but when he did, he turned as beet red as she felt. The doctor didn't seem to mind their embarrassment, though she'd probably seen all sorts of couples and situations. Y/n imagined there wasn't much that the doctor hadn't seen before.
The appointment wrapped up pretty quickly after that. Harry snuck out of the hospital through a separate door while Y/n set up her next appointment. She met him in the staff parking lot, where he was standing by the passenger door to help her in. Harry gave her a quick kiss before closing her in and walking around to the driver's side. As he drove, Y/n was thinking about a number of things—twice the amount of clothes, twice the amount of crying, twice the amount of diaper changes. She was excited at the prospect of having a baby. It was a conversation she and Harry had before they started trying, but the idea of twins was a lot to wrap her head around.
She looked at Harry, wanting to ask how he felt now that they were alone, but she stopped herself.
Harry had one hand on the steering wheel, the other covering a wide grin. He was blushing a little too, and Y/n couldn't help but ask what had him smiling like an idiot.
"I'm trying to figure out which times," he said.
"What do you mean which—Are you kidding? Which times we conceived the twins?"
"Aren't you curious?" Harry asked. "Twice, babe. I put a baby in you twice. I mean, one of them had to be when we were on the yacht, right? I always feel good after we have sex, but I feel like we really outdid ourselves there. Clearly."
Y/n just looked at her husband in shock. "You are..."
"What? It's cool!" Harry insisted, but he was laughing too. "And it takes the edge off a little. Come on, you try."
So he was more nervous than he was letting on. That was comforting in its own way too, but Y/n appreciated his attempts to lighten the mood. They could have a serious conversation later, but for now it was fun to just forget all of that. Just for a moment.
Y/n gave him a dry look, trying to appear like she wasn't impressed until she eventually rolled her eyes and smiled. "Mm...I agree with the yacht, and...when you came back from London."
"Really?" Harry asked, more curious than surprised.
"Yeah," Y/n said with a little sigh as she remembered the night in question. "That was a good night."
It was one of those rare occurrences where Simone was in her own bed and Collette managed to sleep for more than a couple hours. They'd spent the whole night catching up and giggling like idiots and kissing and enjoying the pleasure of being truly alone with each other. Y/n loved those moments with Harry, where everything was just so simple and easy and it was just them having a little fun. They definitely should've been catching up on sleep while they could, but neither of them wanted to, so they stayed up with tired smiles and slurred movements until they heard Collette's cries through the baby monitor.
"It was. We should do that again sometime," Harry said. Taking Y/n's hand, he kissed the tops of her knuckles.
"You just want to go for triplets," Y/n teased, even though she knew that wasn't what he meant.
"I'm not that crazy," he said, but his smile told her he was thinking about the possibility. Maybe just a little. "I'm excited for this."
"Yeah? What do you think? Boys? Girls? A boy and a girl?"
Harry shrugged. "Our track record would suggest girls, but..."
"You never know," Y/n finished for him.
Geneva
"We have some pretty big news to share."
Once a month, the Styles family held a Zoom call with their friends and family who were scattered across the globe. Since lockdown began, there was a lot of adjusting—online school, not being able to go to the park to play, being at home all day. It was a lot for everyone, but Harry and Y/n did their best to make the adjustments smoother. And when they needed a break, they set up the monthly Zoom calls.
They were mostly just to catch up. Once all the children went to sleep, Harry and Y/n stayed up late talking to other adults about everything and nothing, maybe even played a different drinking game or two to round out the night before they went back to being parents. Tonight was a special night, though.
Multiple faces looked at Harry and Y/n expectantly through their computer screen. Both of them were sporting big smiles as Y/n leaned on Harry's side, one of his older sweatshirts covering her body and the almost imperceptible bump that was beginning to show now. Today was the first day she'd begun to show, and Harry nearly lost his mind with excitement. Finding out Y/n was pregnant had been somewhat of a surprise, but when she told him, he was over the moon. He's started to suspect, having recognized some of his wife's symptoms by now, but they'd been waiting for the right time to tell their families and friends, and tonight was the night.
"What's going on, darling?" Anne asked.
Neither Harry nor Y/n could barely contain their excitement, which probably gave away the news before they actually said anything. However, in their own eagerness to share the news, neither of them saw a few people on the call sporting knowing looks.
"We're having a baby!"
Cheers went all around as everyone congratulated the couple. Questions were asked about due dates and how far along they were and what they were going to do about the lockdown situation. Everything was just as Harry had hoped it would be.
And then things took an interesting turn.
"Who won?" Jeff asked.
"Won? What do you mean—"
"If my math is correct, which I'm pretty sure it is, I believe it goes to Gem," Sarah said, looking down at her phone. "She went with three and a half months. Glenne narrowly missed with three. No one had four so it goes to Gemma."
A collective groan went throughout the Zoom, leaving Harry and Y/n very confused.
"Did you place bets on us?" Y/n asked, sounding more astonished than offended.
"When lockdown became permanent, we knew it was a matter of when not if we would be getting the announcement," Jeff explained. "Someone has a physical copy of the pool somewhere."
"And all of you did this? Mum?" Harry said, brows raised higher than Y/n had ever seen them. When Anne nodded sheepishly, Y/n had to stifle a laugh. "So none of you were surprised?"
"I love you, dear, and I'm so so happy for you, but since you were seventeen, anytime you've come to me with big news, it's been about having a baby. For my own sanity, I've just come to expect it."
Harry looked down at Y/n, who was grinning behind her hand. For her husband's sake, her gaze softened as she reached up to kiss his cheek. "I mean, they have a point. Even you guessed it before I told you."
As the shock finally wore off, Harry smiled. He supposed it wasn't the worst thing in the world. So, he and Y/n were predictable, even though they hadn't really been trying this time around. They were in love and had a lot more time together currently. Things were finally back on track for them and their relationship troubles seemed behind them now. They were happy, and as long as his family was happy, some light teasing and bet placing seemed harmless.
He did pin everyone on the screen with a mock glare before moving on, though. "You guys made a whole pool. Really?"
"Yeah. Can you believe Jeff thought it would take eight months for you to get pregnant?"
"It was for the adjustment to lockdown period!"
"Eight months?"
And on and on it went. Harry just smiled and rested his hand over Y/n's belly, thinking about how much it would grow in just a few short weeks.
Natalia
"I want Mommy!"
Harry sighed and pulled his only son into his lap, pushing the curls away from his face and wiping the tears from his cheeks. "I know you do, JuJu."
Harry and the kids were waiting to hear from Y/n's mother, but he hadn't gotten so much as a text. He was anxious, worried that something was wrong, but Julian's crying served as a good distraction for the time being.
Julian continued to cry, still not understanding why he couldn't see his mother when he'd become so used to seeing her everyday. Harry would've been with Y/n had it not been for the little boy's crying, and he made the split-second decision to stay home while Y/n delivered the baby with her mother as support. He'd never missed any of his children's births, but for this, he could stay behind.
"She'll be back soon, bubba, I promise," Harry said, kissing Julian's cheeks and holding him close. "Should we go play with your Lego set? I know you've been excited to build it. Maybe we can build something to show Mummy when she gets home."
Julian shook his head and continued to cry into Harry's neck. Realizing his son was content to be miserable, Harry didn't ask again. He sat with Jules for a while, holding the boy to his chest and running a hand through his hair until his sobs turned into sniffles, and the sniffles into long, slow breaths. He waited a few extra minutes before taking Julian up to his room and setting him on his bed, making sure to place his favorite stuffed animal in his arms before leaving him to sleep off his troubles. As he walked away, Harry sort of wished he could do the same.
Every birth had been different. When Y/n had Simone, it hadn't been extraordinarily long, but it was extraordinarily stressful due to their young age. Collette was a fairly quick birth, perhaps a little too quick, seeing as Y/n barely made it to a hospital bed before the baby started crowning. The twins came early, which was apparently common for twins, but that didn't make it any less surprising to Harry and Y/n, especially because Harry was at the grocery store and Y/n was at the park with Simone and Collette and a nanny who was also there had to call an ambulance. Even still, Geneva's birth was probably the scariest, only because of all the rules and regulations brought on by Covid. Y/n's mother quarantined for two weeks so she could stay at the house while Harry and Y/n went to the hospital, as Y/n could only have one person in the room with her.
And now a year later, they were doing it all over again. Harry had been confident that this birth would go off without a hitch, that everything would be just fine, but the lack of word from his wife or mother-in-law made him nervous.
Later that day, Harry was still waiting. He'd gotten a text from Y/n's mother, which let him know that Y/n still wasn't ready to push but that they were getting close. That was an hour ago, and Harry had to believe that it was all happening now.
And he was missing it.
He knew being here with the rest of his children was important. That they were worried about their mother and probably found Harry's presence comforting. He just wished they could all be there in the waiting room instead of at home and fifteen minutes from the hospital. The not-knowing was killing him, and he was pretty sure his kids could sense it.
"Daddy?"
Harry's eyes flicked to where Collette was standing in the doorway of his bedroom. She was in her pajamas, a shirt and matching pair of bottoms with her favorite cartoon on them. Harry had been pacing around his room, his phone gripped tightly in his hand as he waited for someone to call him, but seeing his second daughter standing there, squinting at the light from his bedside table lamp told him he was up a little later than normal.
"Hi, peanut. What are you doing out of bed?" he asked.
Collette shrugged, her hair catching the light. She wiped at her nose and stepped further into the room until she stood in front of him. "Mommy always braids my hair before I go to sleep."
"She does, doesn't she?" Harry agreed. "She's kind of the best, huh?"
Nodding, Collette turned toward his bed and climbed up on it, looking at him expectantly. Even after having four daughters, Harry wasn't an expert at braiding hair. The girls always went to Y/n before school, and she did each of their braids or ponytails or pigtails happily. Harry always made sure to watch with a keen eye, and practiced on Y/n when she let him. He supposed now it was time to put all his practice to work.
The braiding didn't take long, and Harry didn't do half bad, in his humble opinion. Collette was just going to sleep in it anyway, so he wasn't too bummed by the few loose strands that he'd somehow missed.
He'd finished rather quickly, though Collette didn't slide off the bed to go back to her room. In fact, she nestled under the covers on Y/n's side of the bed, mumbling, "Night Daddy," before falling asleep. Harry didn't really mind. It wasn't the first time one of the kids stayed in his and Y/n's bed, and tonight, he figured he could use some company.
What he wasn't expecting was all of his children to stumble into his room. First it was Maeve, then Jules, then Simone, and finally Harry went to get Geneva, just so it was a proper sleepover. No one fought for space—which was a first. All the kids just found their spot and went back to sleep as if they were in their own rooms. Harry resisted the urge to take a picture so as not to wake anyone up with the flash of his phone's camera.
He hadn't planned on falling asleep. One moment he'd been watching a football game with the volume off, and the next he was blinking his eyes open as the sun began to stream in through the curtains. All of his little ones were still fast asleep, though Harry knew that would change soon. Maeve and Simone woke up early to watch morning cartoons, and Geneva would want her bottle within the hour.
Harry began to shuffle around and prepare for the usual morning routine—brush teeth, ok prepare the bottle, make breakfast for the early risers—when his phone rang. Startled, Harry rushed over to where his phone was plugged in, a huge grin splitting his face when he realized it was a video call from Y/n.
"Hi," Harry whispered, careful not to wake anyone up. "How are you? How's the baby? Is everything—"
"I'm fine, H. Everything's fine. Everything's perfect," Y/n said, a sleepy smile on her face.
Hearing that helped his heart stop racing, but only a little, as excitement flooded his veins. Y/n called him, which could only mean that—
"Wanna meet your daughter?" Y/n said, and even through the phone, Harry could see tears line her eyes.
Harry nodded, too overwhelmed with love and anticipation to form words. Quickly, he found an unoccupied spot on his bed and carefully sat down.
Y/n passed the phone to her mother who angled the phone so that Harry could see the baby, whose face was just barely visible through a pink blanket. He immediately felt tears well in his eyes, his throat going dry as he looked down at his daughter. Even through the phone, he felt every emotion he'd ever experienced when meeting his children for the first time. It was the most unique experience, Harry always thought. He'd seen and done so much, yet he still thought there was nothing like looking down at his newborn baby for the first time.
"Is that baby sister?"
Harry looked behind him to find Julian peering over his shoulder. Jules looked at the sleeping baby curiously, taking in his sister's little nose and tiny fingers and pouted lips. Then, he said, "Is Mommy there too?"
The camera panned up to Y/n, who was smiling and blowing kisses to Julian. "Hi JuJu, my love. I've missed you!"
"Mommy!"
"Mommy?"
"Mommy's home?"
Now everyone was up and crowding around Harry, taking turns talking to Y/n and baby sister, who had yet to be given a name. No one seemed to mind, though. If anything, they were more concerned about when Y/n and the baby would be coming home so they could have a party.
"Soon, my loves. The doctor wants me and the baby to stay one more night to make sure we're healthy. You think you can be good for Daddy?"
There was a chorus of yeses before everyone said their goodbyes, the novelty of a new baby sister wearing off when there were cartoons to be watched downstairs. Harry kept Y/n on the phone while he got Geneva's bottle ready, wanting to stay on the phone as long as possible.
"I know you must be tired," Harry said an hour later. He was in GiGi's nursery and watching her toddle around and play with her toys while talking to his wife.
"I'll hang up soon. I want you to get as much screen time as possible before I go," she said, turning the camera to where the baby was sleeping in the bassinet beside her hospital bed.
"Have you given her a name yet?" he asked.
Y/n shook her head. "I know we decided on one, but I wanted you to be with me when I said it for the first time."
"I love you," Harry said as his heart melted to mush.
"I love you too," Y/n said. She lifted the baby out of the bassinet, cradling her head with the expertise of someone who'd done it for years. Looking at Harry through the phone she said, "You wanna do the honors?"
Laughing out of pure bliss, he nodded. With all the tenderness and care he would've used if he'd been there in person, he said, "Welcome to this crazy, crazy world, Natalia Styles."
991 notes · View notes
avatar-anna · 7 days
Text
The Young Dad!Harry Universe
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a series of oneshots and blurbs about Harry and Y/n as young parents!
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(this list is in chronological order!)
The Timeline (2012—Present/future)
The First Time
Family First (2013)
Secret Little Rendezvous (2013)
Love Games (2015)
Margaritaville (2015)
Just a Taste (2016)
A Nice Surprise (2017)
Failure (2019)
Building a Home (2019)
Mom’s Night Out (2021)
Shopping Spree
The Haircut (2023)
The Grammys (2023)
Moments Caught on Camera at the Brits
Love on Tour: The Documentary (released sometime in the near future)
Part One Part Two Part Three
Family Vacation (2025)
Curious Gazes (spans across multiple years)
The Newlywed Game (far into the future)
Before the Show (2023)
Father's Day Fun (2023)
The Final Show (2023)
Baby Fever (spans across multiple years)
Mommy-daughter dates with Y/n and Simone
The Thing About Having Six Kids (spans across multiple years)
Baby Mine
Merry and Bright (far into the future)
2K notes · View notes
avatar-anna · 8 days
Text
"Hey, Y/n!"
What's up, Y/n?"
Harry heard the soft lilt of his girlfriend's voice as she responded to his co-workers before making her way through the parlor to his workroom. He listened as Y/n shuffled inside, the door shutting with a soft click behind her. She set her things down on the ground before sitting in the stool opposite him. Looking up briefly from the report he was reading, he smiled, beckoning her over with one hand. Not needing to be told once let alone twice, Y/n made herself comfortable on Harry's lap, leaning against his chest with her eyes closed while he finished up.
"Hey, bunny. How was rehearsal?"
"Okay, I guess," she murmured, and Harry paused again to kiss her exposed neck. The tight bun her hair was knotted in tickled his nose, but he was used to it. "The full run-through wasn't a complete disaster."
"That's good," Harry said, squeezing her thigh. "I bet you nailed your variation."
Y/n briefly lifted her head so her gaze met his, an amused glint in her eye. "Variation, huh?"
Harry took the opportunity to kiss the tip of her nose. "Don't act like I don't listen."
Grinning, she settled back down. "Are you almost finished?"
Taking his reading glasses off, he ran a tired hand over his face. He probably should've called it a night. It wasn't his turn to close the shop, and he didn't have anymore appointments. It was a night they both planned for, had both marked their calendars in the hopes of spending an uninterrupted evening alone. And even though he wanted nothing more than to haul Y/n upstairs to his apartment, he always had a tough time wrapping up his work day.
"I will be soon. Promise," he said. "You can go up and take a bath, unwind, do whatever you need to do."
Y/n, who had been patiently awaiting his answer, turned in his lap. She ran her hands up and down Harry's shoulders as she nudged his cheek with her nose before kissing it, then kissed her way down to his neck. The paper he'd been holding nearly fell to the floor when she grazed her teeth along a particularly sensitive spot, chills curling up his spine as he gripped her waist with one hand.
"What if I want to unwind with you, daddy?"
Harry's eyes squeezed shut, a thick swallow passing down his throat. Y/n must've had a harder time at rehearsals than she let on if she was being like this so openly. The door was closed, and she'd mumbled in his ear so that no one else could've possibly heard what she said, but she rarely spoke like that when they were alone unless he coaxed it out of her.
"Yeah? You need to be taken care of tonight?" he asked. Part of him didn't want to, but he pulled Y/n from where she was undoubtedly sucking a hickey onto his skin. Not that it could easily be seen under all the ink there, but it was the thought, the sensation, that counted. "You feeling like you need to be babied a little?"
Y/n blushed, embarrassed by his words, but perhaps by the way they made her feel too. How right they were. She did want to be taken care of tonight. She didn't want to think about a single thing except him, consume him using all five of her senses. Still, she shrugged and nodded only once, not meeting Harry's eyes.
"Oh, come on. You can do better than that, can't you?"
Harry's voice lightly teased, a smile creeping up the corners of his mouth.
He never thought he'd be so lucky as to have this woman in his lap, eager to get lost in the feeling of him, to be taken care of by him. When they met, she'd barely said two words at all, let alone to him, having followed her friend into the tattoo parlor while she got inked by Harry. Y/n stood in the corner of Harry's workroom the whole time, an earbud in one ear, hardly paying attention to the fact that the only thing keeping him from looking at her for long periods of time was the tattoo gun in his hands and her friend in the chair beneath him.
It was her solo music, he later discovered. Y/n was always listening to her performance music when opening night was mere days away. And she ran the number in her head too, delicately moving her hands about, eyes staring upwards at nothing while she moved through the variation in her mind. According to her, she never realized she did it until Harry pointed it out.
He'd immediately been taken by Y/n. She'd been quiet that day in the tattoo parlor, but not shy. Y/n had seemed to hold herself with a certain poise that had felt alien in his workroom. There was no judgement, no upturned nose at the parlor or the people decked out head to toe in tattoos in it. She'd sniffed a little at Harry's attempts at flirty jokes and outright refused when he asked her on a date, but he wasn't deterred.
Harry had been vaguely aware of the ballet company a few blocks from the tattoo parlor and made sure to be there on opening night with the biggest bouquet of flowers he could afford. Y/n, who had spotted his ink covered hands and neck, his tattered jean jacket and ripped jeans, among the throngs of suits and ties and gowns, could only deny the flutter in her belly at the fact that he'd come to see her perform.
The rest was history.
Y/n leaned forward now, as if to kiss Harry, but he haltingly placed a finger on her lips. He merely raised a brow, but her shoulders slumped.
"Please, daddy? I've had the longest day. I just want you to help me stretch and maybe rub my shoulders."
And brush her hair, and feed her snacks in bed, and heat up her socks in the dryer so that they were nice and warm when she put them on. Y/n expected the royal treatment, but only because Harry had given her no reason to believe she didn't deserve it. From the moment she agreed to a date with him, he worshipped the ground she walked on, and after seeing how exhausted ballet rehearsals made her, he only wanted to see her perfectly happy and relaxed around him.
"Five more minutes, I promise," Harry said, kissing her pouted lips briefly.
"Two."
Harry raised his brows. "Five."
"Three."
"Four, and that's my final offer."
Y/n nodded, her hand reaching up to smoothe the curls that had fallen in Harry's eyes away from his face. She loved playing with his hair, he'd learned. So much so that he almost wanted to grow it out, just to see her reaction.
Harry made good on his promise, finishing up his final tasks quickly and packing away his things. He made a note to put in an order for more ink and sanitation supplies before leading Y/n out of the workroom and locking up after them. He shouldered her bag, nodding to his mates at their workstations before retiring upstairs to his apartment. The sound of loud music and the whirring of tattoo guns were left below, a calm sort of quiet settling over him and Y/n.
He was hers the rest of the night. Harry sat behind Y/n in his bathtub that was just big enough for the two of them, kissing her and letting her run her hands all over him however she saw fit. He was a little surprised she had so much energy after rehearsal, but he wasn't about to complain. Every kiss was a reward of its own after their respective long days. And when she opened her legs a little wider, a clear invitation, he didn't hesitate.
Later, when they were both bathed and ready for bed, Y/n sat on the floor of Harry's bedroom, her legs spread apart as she leaned forward. She'd claimed she needed his help earlier but had yet to ask, though he figured a massage at the end of her stretches would do the trick.
"How is everything down there?" she asked.
She didn't have to say anything more for him to understand what she meant. "Good. Could be better."
"It looked busy when I came in," Y/n said, changing positions.
"Yeah, but last night was nearly dead," Harry admitted. "I just don't know how to keep it consistent."
"I'm sorry if I pulled you away from work."
"You didn't," Harry promised. "But I have thought about extending my hours so I can see more clients. Not until after your opening night, though."
Finally standing up, Y/n padded over to where Harry laid on the bed. Riding up on the bed, he patted the spot in front of him, encouraging her to sit. She did, the tension in her body leaving on a long exhale as he began to knead the tight muscles in her shoulders. Neither of them spoke, both of them content to sit in silence after a long day's work. Both Harry and Y/n tried to leave work outside of the bedroom for both of their sakes, unless Harry begged Y/n to show him some of what she'd worked on in rehearsals. They agreed earlier on that balance was key. Even though their careers were beyond different, they were both time consuming. Nights together in their bedroom was just for them, nothing else.
When she felt thoroughly relaxed, Y/n slid into bed next to Harry, her arm slipping over his stomach as she pressed herself against his side. The smell of his soap mingled with the shampoo she kept in his shower for overnight stays was nearly dizzying. Harry had always been enamored by the smell of Y/n's perfume, but when she started staying over, and their natural scents began to mix together, he could hardly think straight. He was so gone for this girl, and he didn't think she even realized it.
"You don't think you're spreading yourself too thin? I know money's tight, but I still want you to do your job because it makes you happy, not because you feel like you have to to make ends meet."
Harry never considered the logistics of running his own tattoo parlor, it was never what he'd set out to do. Sure, he loved tattooing, and when his old boss felt it was time to retire, Harry didn't hesitate to accept the offer of running things for him. He felt like he had ideas and experience, a clientele that was sustainable and a well-enough known name to get by. But now there was payroll, and bills, and inventory, and bookkeeping. His old boss had stayed on for a few months until Harry got the hang of things, and he supposed he was decent at running the tattoo parlor, but now he was more of a manager than an artist, and that was something he foolishly hadn't anticipated.
"I'll be okay."
"You promise? You'd tell me if you weren't happy, right? Because I can start babysitting again—"
Harry interrupted Y/n with a kiss, effectively cutting that thought at the knees. "Absolutely not. You're supposed to focus on ballet and nothing else."
Y/n frowned, quite familiar with this argument. She appreciated his dedication to her career and his desire to want her to succeed, but his work mattered to her just as much.
"But if we eventually want a bigger place—"
"We'll get there."
"I just don't want you to be the only one making sacrifices, H."
Running a hand through her damp hair, he said, "No one is sacrificing anything, okay? We're gonna make this work. We always do."
Y/n looked disbelieving at first, but she eventually cupped his cheek, her thumb rubbing back and forth over him gently. From the moment they met, Harry had been so selfless, and he made it increasingly difficult to return the favor. She loved him for it, but it made her want to shake him all the same sometimes. "You're really fine with extending your hours?"
"Here and there," Harry promised. "For more appointment time, not the business stuff."
"Fine," Y/n relented. "But I'm asking my instructor if she needs help teaching classes."
Harry could tell her mind was made up, and she was just as stubborn as he could be. He nodded, letting the topic go for now, but he knew they'd circle back to it in a few days, maybe a week. Right now, it was time to leave work behind them. They'd already talked about it more than they normally let themselves.
Y/n obviously felt the same, the hand on his cheek traveling down his neck and over his shoulder, tracing the ink that littered his skin as she kissed the corner of his mouth. "No more talking about extra shifts," she murmured. She sucked on the silver hoop pierced through Harry's lip, tugging on it slightly until his mouth devoured hers in a kiss that made them both sigh audibly. Y/n's hand kept moving, sneaking past the waistband of his sweatpants and beneath his briefs, dull nails scratching at sensitive skin until he groaned.
"How do you want me tonight, daddy?" she murmured when Harry finally stopped sucking her bottom lip.
"However you want, bunny. It's up to you."
It was almost always up to Y/n. Harry would never do something if Y/n wasn't one hundred percent okay with it, but she liked to ask, and he liked to let her, if only to hear her call him that name.
Harry's own hands explored, slipping under Y/n's sweats and gripping her slender waist, kneading the powerful muscles in her legs, tucking a finger or two in the juncture between her thighs, but not quite where she wanted to feel them. She whined, but he wouldn't give in until she told him precisely what she wanted, though it was hard for her to talk when his other hand circled her breast and he kept pulling kiss after kiss from her rosy lips. That was his intent—to tease, to make it nearly impossible to tell him what she wanted until she got all huffy and just took it from him. Y/n was so cute when she took matters into her own hands. And sexy, beyond sexy.
"Your dick, please."
"Where? In your mouth? Ow!" he said, yelping when she pinched the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. "Geez, alright, I'll give you what you want. Wait while I grab a condom, will you?"
Y/n made herself comfortable on the bed while Harry rooted around in his nightstand for a condom. He made a mental note to add a new pack to his grocery list as he found one after pushing things around a little too long.
"You think you're ready?" he asked her as he slid the condom on.
Y/n nodded. "Always."
Laughing a little, Harry made himself comfortable between her spread thighs. He kissed her jaw, then the spot behind her ear as he eased himself inside, careful not to go too fast. Y/n had other plans, though, gripping his ass impatiently to move him along. "Who's doing all the work here?" he asked her mockingly, though he still picked up the pace a little.
"I'd do it if you let me," she huffed, but not before arching her back.
Noting the challenge in her voice, Harry deftly flipped them over. Raising his brows, he rested his hands behind his head. "Go on, then."
He didn't expect her to, but Y/n began to move, a stubborn furrow in her brow, though it eventually faded to something more blissed out and relaxed. Harry kept his hands at her waist, gripping them tightly and resisting the urge to thrust upwards. Because she was right, of course. Harry couldn't help but take things into his own hands—set the pace, position her where he knew she felt the best, determining how and when they both finished. Y/n was usually more than happy with the dynamic, but she seemed perfectly pleased with herself as she rode him too.
"Go on, daddy. Know you want to," she exhaled, tightly gripping his shoulders. "Please?"
Both of them were lovingly predictable, but neither of them minded. Y/n laid herself across his chest while Harry began to thrust into her, hard enough that her eyes squeezed shut and began to mumble incoherently. Harry whispered in her ear how good she felt around him, how greedy she was for wanting to come again after doing so twice in the bathtub but that he loved her for it, how he knew she was close just by the sounds she made. All of it went to her head and the pulsing in her thighs, making it hard to think about anything but how he made her feel, and he teased her for that too.
"What happened to that mouth of yours, hm? Where'd you go? My cock too big for you to think properly?"
Harry was hardly one to talk. Sometimes she squeezed around him so hard his vision went blissfully white, but he wasn't the one who got off being teased about it.
"M—More," was all Y/n could manage before she ducked her head into the crook of his neck, sucking love bite after love bite in quick succession.
They finished in a heap of sweaty and tangled limbs. Harry breathed heavily as he brushed a hand through Y/n's hair, pulling a few strands away from her cheek. She rested on his chest, making no attempts to move. Harry knew she could fall asleep like this, so he nudged her shoulder to keep her from doing so.
"Hey you," he cooed. "We need to get cleaned up, then we can go to sleep."
Y/n shook her head as best she could while laying on his chest. "Could stay like this forever. Like feeling full."
Harry's face flushed as he kissed her temple. "I'm flattered, but we should still clean up."
"One of these days I'm going to convince you," she grumbled, sliding off him with a huff.
Chuckling, Harry said, "What? Falling asleep with my cock in you? I'd be happy to one day, bunny, but the last thing we need is a baby scare."
Grumbling, Y/n sat up and shrugged back into her shirt. She knew he had a point, but her brain was still a little fuzzy and it clouded her judgement. She wasn't on any birth control, having not liked the way it changed her so much—the mood swings, the weight gain, the lethargy. Not only did it affect her day to day life, but it affected her dancing. It was a choice she made when she was in her last years of ballet school, and thankfully Harry had been understanding when she told him.
Slipping off the bed, Harry quickly disposed of the condom and examined himself in the mirror. Even through the tattoos that covered nearly every inch of his upper body, could see the faint red marks and cute little bruises, that littered his skin. It was the same every time, but something about seeing it left Harry feeling very pleased.
When he reentered his bedroom, Y/n was nearly asleep, one long leg half thrown over his side of the bed. He shook his head to himself before maneuvering around his girlfriend. She was the most graceful person Harry had ever met, but when she slept—or when she was half asleep, in this case—she was about as immovable as a large rock.
"Move over, bunny."
"Hm."
Rolling his eyes, Harry carefully lifted Y/n's leg, ignoring her groans of protest until she was settled back against him. She sighed deeply, then pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Night."
The last thing Harry felt was amusement as he settled deeper into the pillows. "Night, baby," he mumbled, kissing the top of her head before closing his eyes.
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avatar-anna · 9 days
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absolutely love the tattorry x ballet!yn đŸ„čđŸ„č would that ever become a multi-part thing? dying to see more of them you write them so so well
and maybe there will be bc i def didn't mean to post that last nightđŸ€ŠđŸœâ€â™€ïž
but thank youuu! i'm glad you liked itđŸ«¶đŸŒđŸ’–
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avatar-anna · 9 days
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"Hey, Y/n!"
What's up, Y/n?"
Harry heard the soft lilt of his girlfriend's voice as she responded to his co-workers before making her way through the parlor to his workroom. He listened as Y/n shuffled inside, the door shutting with a soft click behind her. She set her things down on the ground before sitting in the stool opposite him. Looking up briefly from the report he was reading, he smiled, beckoning her over with one hand. Not needing to be told once let alone twice, Y/n made herself comfortable on Harry's lap, leaning against his chest with her eyes closed while he finished up.
"Hey, bunny. How was rehearsal?"
"Okay, I guess," she murmured, and Harry paused again to kiss her exposed neck. The tight bun her hair was knotted in tickled his nose, but he was used to it. "The full run-through wasn't a complete disaster."
"That's good," Harry said, squeezing her thigh. "I bet you nailed your variation."
Y/n briefly lifted her head so her gaze met his, an amused glint in her eye. "Variation, huh?"
Harry took the opportunity to kiss the tip of her nose. "Don't act like I don't listen."
Grinning, she settled back down. "Are you almost finished?"
Taking his reading glasses off, he ran a tired hand over his face. He probably should've called it a night. It wasn't his turn to close the shop, and he didn't have anymore appointments. It was a night they both planned for, had both marked their calendars in the hopes of spending an uninterrupted evening alone. And even though he wanted nothing more than to haul Y/n upstairs to his apartment, he always had a tough time wrapping up his work day.
"I will be soon. Promise," he said. "You can go up and take a bath, unwind, do whatever you need to do."
Y/n, who had been patiently awaiting his answer, turned in his lap. She ran her hands up and down Harry's shoulders as she nudged his cheek with her nose before kissing it, then kissed her way down to his neck. The paper he'd been holding nearly fell to the floor when she grazed her teeth along a particularly sensitive spot, chills curling up his spine as he gripped her waist with one hand.
"What if I want to unwind with you, daddy?"
Harry's eyes squeezed shut, a thick swallow passing down his throat. Y/n must've had a harder time at rehearsals than she let on if she was being like this so openly. The door was closed, and she'd mumbled in his ear so that no one else could've possibly heard what she said, but she rarely spoke like that when they were alone unless he coaxed it out of her.
"Yeah? You need to be taken care of tonight?" he asked. Part of him didn't want to, but he pulled Y/n from where she was undoubtedly sucking a hickey onto his skin. Not that it could easily be seen under all the ink there, but it was the thought, the sensation, that counted. "You feeling like you need to be babied a little?"
Y/n blushed, embarrassed by his words, but perhaps by the way they made her feel too. How right they were. She did want to be taken care of tonight. She didn't want to think about a single thing except him, consume him using all five of her senses. Still, she shrugged and nodded only once, not meeting Harry's eyes.
"Oh, come on. You can do better than that, can't you?"
Harry's voice lightly teased, a smile creeping up the corners of his mouth.
He never thought he'd be so lucky as to have this woman in his lap, eager to get lost in the feeling of him, to be taken care of by him. When they met, she'd barely said two words at all, let alone to him, having followed her friend into the tattoo parlor while she got inked by Harry. Y/n stood in the corner of Harry's workroom the whole time, an earbud in one ear, hardly paying attention to the fact that the only thing keeping him from looking at her for long periods of time was the tattoo gun in his hands and her friend in the chair beneath him.
It was her solo music, he later discovered. Y/n was always listening to her performance music when opening night was mere days away. And she ran the number in her head too, delicately moving her hands about, eyes staring upwards at nothing while she moved through the variation in her mind. According to her, she never realized she did it until Harry pointed it out.
He'd immediately been taken by Y/n. She'd been quiet that day in the tattoo parlor, but not shy. Y/n had seemed to hold herself with a certain poise that had felt alien in his workroom. There was no judgement, no upturned nose at the parlor or the people decked out head to toe in tattoos in it. She'd sniffed a little at Harry's attempts at flirty jokes and outright refused when he asked her on a date, but he wasn't deterred.
Harry had been vaguely aware of the ballet company a few blocks from the tattoo parlor and made sure to be there on opening night with the biggest bouquet of flowers he could afford. Y/n, who had spotted his ink covered hands and neck, his tattered jean jacket and ripped jeans, among the throngs of suits and ties and gowns, could only deny the flutter in her belly at the fact that he'd come to see her perform.
The rest was history.
Y/n leaned forward now, as if to kiss Harry, but he haltingly placed a finger on her lips. He merely raised a brow, but her shoulders slumped.
"Please, daddy? I've had the longest day. I just want you to help me stretch and maybe rub my shoulders."
And brush her hair, and feed her snacks in bed, and heat up her socks in the dryer so that they were nice and warm when she put them on. Y/n expected the royal treatment, but only because Harry had given her no reason to believe she didn't deserve it. From the moment she agreed to a date with him, he worshipped the ground she walked on, and after seeing how exhausted ballet rehearsals made her, he only wanted to see her perfectly happy and relaxed around him.
"Five more minutes, I promise," Harry said, kissing her pouted lips briefly.
"Two."
Harry raised his brows. "Five."
"Three."
"Four, and that's my final offer."
Y/n nodded, her hand reaching up to smoothe the curls that had fallen in Harry's eyes away from his face. She loved playing with his hair, he'd learned. So much so that he almost wanted to grow it out, just to see her reaction.
Harry made good on his promise, finishing up his final tasks quickly and packing away his things. He made a note to put in an order for more ink and sanitation supplies before leading Y/n out of the workroom and locking up after them. He shouldered her bag, nodding to his mates at their workstations before retiring upstairs to his apartment. The sound of loud music and the whirring of tattoo guns were left below, a calm sort of quiet settling over him and Y/n.
He was hers the rest of the night. Harry sat behind Y/n in his bathtub that was just big enough for the two of them, kissing her and letting her run her hands all over him however she saw fit. He was a little surprised she had so much energy after rehearsal, but he wasn't about to complain. Every kiss was a reward of its own after their respective long days. And when she opened her legs a little wider, a clear invitation, he didn't hesitate.
Later, when they were both bathed and ready for bed, Y/n sat on the floor of Harry's bedroom, her legs spread apart as she leaned forward. She'd claimed she needed his help earlier but had yet to ask, though he figured a massage at the end of her stretches would do the trick.
"How is everything down there?" she asked.
She didn't have to say anything more for him to understand what she meant. "Good. Could be better."
"It looked busy when I came in," Y/n said, changing positions.
"Yeah, but last night was nearly dead," Harry admitted. "I just don't know how to keep it consistent."
"I'm sorry if I pulled you away from work."
"You didn't," Harry promised. "But I have thought about extending my hours so I can see more clients. Not until after your opening night, though."
Finally standing up, Y/n padded over to where Harry laid on the bed. Riding up on the bed, he patted the spot in front of him, encouraging her to sit. She did, the tension in her body leaving on a long exhale as he began to knead the tight muscles in her shoulders. Neither of them spoke, both of them content to sit in silence after a long day's work. Both Harry and Y/n tried to leave work outside of the bedroom for both of their sakes, unless Harry begged Y/n to show him some of what she'd worked on in rehearsals. They agreed earlier on that balance was key. Even though their careers were beyond different, they were both time consuming. Nights together in their bedroom was just for them, nothing else.
When she felt thoroughly relaxed, Y/n slid into bed next to Harry, her arm slipping over his stomach as she pressed herself against his side. The smell of his soap mingled with the shampoo she kept in his shower for overnight stays was nearly dizzying. Harry had always been enamored by the smell of Y/n's perfume, but when she started staying over, and their natural scents began to mix together, he could hardly think straight. He was so gone for this girl, and he didn't think she even realized it.
"You don't think you're spreading yourself too thin? I know money's tight, but I still want you to do your job because it makes you happy, not because you feel like you have to to make ends meet."
Harry never considered the logistics of running his own tattoo parlor, it was never what he'd set out to do. Sure, he loved tattooing, and when his old boss felt it was time to retire, Harry didn't hesitate to accept the offer of running things for him. He felt like he had ideas and experience, a clientele that was sustainable and a well-enough known name to get by. But now there was payroll, and bills, and inventory, and bookkeeping. His old boss had stayed on for a few months until Harry got the hang of things, and he supposed he was decent at running the tattoo parlor, but now he was more of a manager than an artist, and that was something he foolishly hadn't anticipated.
"I'll be okay."
"You promise? You'd tell me if you weren't happy, right? Because I can start babysitting again—"
Harry interrupted Y/n with a kiss, effectively cutting that thought at the knees. "Absolutely not. You're supposed to focus on ballet and nothing else."
Y/n frowned, quite familiar with this argument. She appreciated his dedication to her career and his desire to want her to succeed, but his work mattered to her just as much.
"But if we eventually want a bigger place—"
"We'll get there."
"I just don't want you to be the only one making sacrifices, H."
Running a hand through her damp hair, he said, "No one is sacrificing anything, okay? We're gonna make this work. We always do."
Y/n looked disbelieving at first, but she eventually cupped his cheek, her thumb rubbing back and forth over him gently. From the moment they met, Harry had been so selfless, and he made it increasingly difficult to return the favor. She loved him for it, but it made her want to shake him all the same sometimes. "You're really fine with extending your hours?"
"Here and there," Harry promised. "For more appointment time, not the business stuff."
"Fine," Y/n relented. "But I'm asking my instructor if she needs help teaching classes."
Harry could tell her mind was made up, and she was just as stubborn as he could be. He nodded, letting the topic go for now, but he knew they'd circle back to it in a few days, maybe a week. Right now, it was time to leave work behind them. They'd already talked about it more than they normally let themselves.
Y/n obviously felt the same, the hand on his cheek traveling down his neck and over his shoulder, tracing the ink that littered his skin as she kissed the corner of his mouth. "No more talking about extra shifts," she murmured. She sucked on the silver hoop pierced through Harry's lip, tugging on it slightly until his mouth devoured hers in a kiss that made them both sigh audibly. Y/n's hand kept moving, sneaking past the waistband of his sweatpants and beneath his briefs, dull nails scratching at sensitive skin until he groaned.
"How do you want me tonight, daddy?" she murmured when Harry finally stopped sucking her bottom lip.
"However you want, bunny. It's up to you."
It was almost always up to Y/n. Harry would never do something if Y/n wasn't one hundred percent okay with it, but she liked to ask, and he liked to let her, if only to hear her call him that name.
Harry's own hands explored, slipping under Y/n's sweats and gripping her slender waist, kneading the powerful muscles in her legs, tucking a finger or two in the juncture between her thighs, but not quite where she wanted to feel them. She whined, but he wouldn't give in until she told him precisely what she wanted, though it was hard for her to talk when his other hand circled her breast and he kept pulling kiss after kiss from her rosy lips. That was his intent—to tease, to make it nearly impossible to tell him what she wanted until she got all huffy and just took it from him. Y/n was so cute when she took matters into her own hands. And sexy, beyond sexy.
"Your dick, please."
"Where? In your mouth? Ow!" he said, yelping when she pinched the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. "Geez, alright, I'll give you what you want. Wait while I grab a condom, will you?"
Y/n made herself comfortable on the bed while Harry rooted around in his nightstand for a condom. He made a mental note to add a new pack to his grocery list as he found one after pushing things around a little too long.
"You think you're ready?" he asked her as he slid the condom on.
Y/n nodded. "Always."
Laughing a little, Harry made himself comfortable between her spread thighs. He kissed her jaw, then the spot behind her ear as he eased himself inside, careful not to go too fast. Y/n had other plans, though, gripping his ass impatiently to move him along. "Who's doing all the work here?" he asked her mockingly, though he still picked up the pace a little.
"I'd do it if you let me," she huffed, but not before arching her back.
Noting the challenge in her voice, Harry deftly flipped them over. Raising his brows, he rested his hands behind his head. "Go on, then."
He didn't expect her to, but Y/n began to move, a stubborn furrow in her brow, though it eventually faded to something more blissed out and relaxed. Harry kept his hands at her waist, gripping them tightly and resisting the urge to thrust upwards. Because she was right, of course. Harry couldn't help but take things into his own hands—set the pace, position her where he knew she felt the best, determining how and when they both finished. Y/n was usually more than happy with the dynamic, but she seemed perfectly pleased with herself as she rode him too.
"Go on, daddy. Know you want to," she exhaled, tightly gripping his shoulders. "Please?"
Both of them were lovingly predictable, but neither of them minded. Y/n laid herself across his chest while Harry began to thrust into her, hard enough that her eyes squeezed shut and began to mumble incoherently. Harry whispered in her ear how good she felt around him, how greedy she was for wanting to come again after doing so twice in the bathtub but that he loved her for it, how he knew she was close just by the sounds she made. All of it went to her head and the pulsing in her thighs, making it hard to think about anything but how he made her feel, and he teased her for that too.
"What happened to that mouth of yours, hm? Where'd you go? My cock too big for you to think properly?"
Harry was hardly one to talk. Sometimes she squeezed around him so hard his vision went blissfully white, but he wasn't the one who got off being teased about it.
"M—More," was all Y/n could manage before she ducked her head into the crook of his neck, sucking love bite after love bite in quick succession.
They finished in a heap of sweaty and tangled limbs. Harry breathed heavily as he brushed a hand through Y/n's hair, pulling a few strands away from her cheek. She rested on his chest, making no attempts to move. Harry knew she could fall asleep like this, so he nudged her shoulder to keep her from doing so.
"Hey you," he cooed. "We need to get cleaned up, then we can go to sleep."
Y/n shook her head as best she could while laying on his chest. "Could stay like this forever. Like feeling full."
Harry's face flushed as he kissed her temple. "I'm flattered, but we should still clean up."
"One of these days I'm going to convince you," she grumbled, sliding off him with a huff.
Chuckling, Harry said, "What? Falling asleep with my cock in you? I'd be happy to one day, bunny, but the last thing we need is a baby scare."
Grumbling, Y/n sat up and shrugged back into her shirt. She knew he had a point, but her brain was still a little fuzzy and it clouded her judgement. She wasn't on any birth control, having not liked the way it changed her so much—the mood swings, the weight gain, the lethargy. Not only did it affect her day to day life, but it affected her dancing. It was a choice she made when she was in her last years of ballet school, and thankfully Harry had been understanding when she told him.
Slipping off the bed, Harry quickly disposed of the condom and examined himself in the mirror. Even through the tattoos that covered nearly every inch of his upper body, could see the faint red marks and cute little bruises, that littered his skin. It was the same every time, but something about seeing it left Harry feeling very pleased.
When he reentered his bedroom, Y/n was nearly asleep, one long leg half thrown over his side of the bed. He shook his head to himself before maneuvering around his girlfriend. She was the most graceful person Harry had ever met, but when she slept—or when she was half asleep, in this case—she was about as immovable as a large rock.
"Move over, bunny."
"Hm."
Rolling his eyes, Harry carefully lifted Y/n's leg, ignoring her groans of protest until she was settled back against him. She sighed deeply, then pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Night."
The last thing Harry felt was amusement as he settled deeper into the pillows. "Night, baby," he mumbled, kissing the top of her head before closing his eyes.
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avatar-anna · 13 days
Text
don't cry over little old me! i don't comment much on anything, but i'm trying to be better at it, but i LOVE all of your work, you truly do the most by posting so much (and so quickly pls tell me how you do it😭)
anyway xoxo can't wait for part 2!â˜șïžđŸ’–
Teenage Dirtbag*
Summary: The one where Harry's popular, cool, and everything you aren't. And maybe you want to keep him your dirty, little secret.
Word Count: 5.5k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, gag, exhibitionism if you squint, fratrry, not suitable for Ramadan!
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“Okay, next question. What is the Albedo Effect?”
“27.”
“Harry, come on.”
“What?”
“I need an answer.”
“That is an answer. Maybe not to this question, but it’s an answer to some question.”
Your expression falls flat as you toss a piece of popcorn at him. “H, seriously.”
“What?”
“We’re supposed to be studying.”
“We are.”
“No, actually studying.” You toss another piece at him, which he catches in his mouth. “Harry—"
“The Albedo Effect is the reflectivity of the Earth’s surface,” he finally says before grinning smugly. “There. Happy?” 
“Mm.”
“Since I got it right, do I win a kiss?”
“No. You win another question,” you say before switching to the next notecard. “Okay, what is the average temperature of the Earth’s surface?”
“27.”
“Harry.”
He laughs before he’s reaching across the bed to grab the stack of notebooks, cards, and books all over your lap. Effortlessly discarding of them while leaning toward you to ghost his lips over yours. “59 degrees Fahrenheit.”
Your lashes flutter. You want to argue. Want to fight him and demand your things back. But it’s hard when he’s this close. “Um
right.”
He smiles, mouth dangerously tempting as it dances along the curve of your jaw. “Give me another.”
“I
” You swallow. “I can’t. You stole my cards.”
“Oh, did I? Oops.”
“You’re mean.”
“Yeah. But you like me.”
“Not right now.”
“Yes now. Always.”
You huff. “I’m not
I’m not kissing you until we finish studying—”
“Well, I’m not studying until you kiss me.”
“Harry—”
“What, angel?”
You fist his shirt. You mean to push him away and yet somehow, he ends up even closer. “I didn’t invite you over for this.”
“I know.” He smirks again. “This is just a bonus.”
“We agreed to study.”
“We are.”
“Jessica’s gonna be back soon—”
“So?”
“So, you know you can’t be here when she gets here,” you remind him, finally finding the strength to shove him back. “Come on, a few more questions and then we can take a break.”
“You said that a few questions ago,” he argues.
You grab the cards. “Oops.”
Fifteen minutes go by before you finally reach the end of your notes, earning a loud sigh from your study buddy as he flops onto his back in defeat. 
“That was awful,” he declares. His head rolls until his eyes find yours. A soft green beneath those long lashes. “You take way too many notes.”
“I like to be prepared,” you pout as you stand and put them back on your desk. “You don’t take nearly enough.”
“Because I have you.”
“Yeah, well
that’s cheating.”
“It’s not cheating if I’m helping you use them.”
You turn around and place your hands on your hips. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
“Yeah.” He sits up and reaches for you. Easily tugging you between his legs as you try—futilely—not to fall for that gorgeous grin. “And yet you keep me around.”
“Mm
for now.”
“For now, huh?” His large hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt and you do nothing to stop him. “You just use me for my cock, is that it? Cause I’m a good fuck?”
Your skin grows warm as you look away. “Stop it, don’t say it like that.”
“What? M’I embarrassing you, pretty girl?” he whispers. He squeezes your sides, palms soft against your stomach. “Which part did it? Cock or fuck?”
You close your eyes and groan. “Harry—”
“What? They’re just words, baby.”
“Yeah, but they’re dirty words.”
He’s grinning again. Arrogant and far too smug. “I’ve seen this pretty mouth do far dirtier things—”
You bury your face in your hands to hide. “Please don’t remind me—”
“Why not? Hm? You don’t wanna remember the way you took me down your throat like a good girl?” He lifts your shirt and presses a gentle kiss just below your belly button. “Or what about the way you scratched your nails down my back as you came? Crying my name until your voice went raw?”
“Harry
”
“What about when I fingered you under the table?” he murmurs, then moves his kisses up your torso. One after the other. Slow. “And you had to bite your cute, little lip to keep from moaning?”
You start to squirm. “H
H, please—”
“What about the time I bent you over that desk—” He nods his chin toward the table in the corner of your dorm room. “—and made you cum so hard, you squirted.”
You make another noise and melt into his touch. They’re good memories, you know that. But they do unspeakable things to your anxiety. Just the thought of what someone might say
the idea of what the two of you have done. You weren’t raised to think or feel so freely and Harry is a master at making you nervous.
You’ve done more with him than you ever have anyone else. More than you imagined you’d ever do. And even if you wouldn’t trade it for the world, you can’t say you really welcome the reminder.
His kisses reach your chest. Naked and bare and begging to be touched. “You can be dirty, too, pretty girl.” 
Your hand finds his hair. Fingers sweeping through his soft curls that are normally restrained by some sort of beanie or bandana. “H
”
He hums. He knows he’s embarrassing you. But you suppose that’s why he does it. 
The small room falls silent, save for the gentle sounds of his kisses as they move toward your breast. His tongue is dangerously close and you know if he gets his way, you’ll never get anything else done.
However, just before those pretty pink lips can make contact, you hear the sound of your roommate’s voice down the hall. Loud enough to startle you and pull you out from between his legs.
Quickly, you’re tugging your shirt back down and grabbing his hand to lead him to the window. Nearly shoving him out onto the fire escape before he’s even had a chance to catch his breath.
“Go,” you whisper as you toss his flannel at him. “Hurry.”
“You know, as much as I like being your dirty little secret, you know she’s gonna find out eventually,” he says while dipping beneath the window frame until he’s completely out of the room.
“I know. But today is not that day.”
Once you’re sure she won’t see him, you get ready to close the curtains. But you’re stopped by his large hand slipping around the back of your neck as he yanks your mouths together. Finally getting the kiss he so desperately wanted.
“You’re still coming to the party this Friday, yeah?” he murmurs against your lips.
You kiss him back just once before you’re shoving at him again. “We’ll see,” you call.
He winks.
With that, the window slams shut, and he disappears into the darkness. Right as Jessica slips inside the room and begins to tell you about her incredibly long day.
And every trace of Harry has gone.
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“Ten minutes. Just ten minutes. And if we hate it, we can leave.”
“All right, fine,” you agree, begrudgingly following your friend into the large, familiar house that sits a few miles outside of campus. “Ten. But if I get a single drink spilled on me
I’m out.”
“Deal.”
You laugh as Jess throws her arm around your shoulders to lead you inside, shoving past the group of college students already gathering in the living room.
Every inch of the house is packed full of people. The music is loud, the smell of weed is strong, and a lively game of cup pong is being had down the hall. Truth be told, this scene always tends to catch you off guard. No, this isn’t your first party. But you were raised in a world and in a home where drugs and alcohol were never present. 
You don’t mind being around them or watching people participate, but the concept is still rather foreign to you. Even if Harry’s presence in your life is beginning to change that.
Speaking of, you can’t help but search for him as Jessica drags you from room to room. You imagine he’s around somewhere. After all, this is his frat house, and you’ve never known him to miss a party.
But with the football game happening tomorrow night, you wonder if he’ll be out practicing or if he’ll be here with his teammates, pre-gaming.
You catch a glimpse of his red, backwards baseball cap as you’re leaving the kitchen. He’s across the house, clad in a black, graphic t-shirt and skinny jeans, leaning against the wall as he talks to one of his friends.
He’s nodding along to something they’re saying, taking slow sips of whatever’s in his solo cup while lazily looking around.
And that’s when he finds you.
Even with all these people, you feel like the only two in the room. And you catch the way he smiles. A soft, secret smirk meant just for you. And a gleam in his eye as he takes another sip and returns to his conversation.
He’s glad you’re here and honestly, you think you are, too.
“Oh, Zack, there you are!” Jessica suddenly exclaims before she’s yanking you toward one of the guys on Harry’s team. “Zack, this is the friend I was telling you about.”
A bit confused, you and Zack exchange a nod as your roommate begins the excited introductions.
“This is the guy I wanted to set you up with,” she whispers under her breath before straightening up. “So, uh, Zack! You’re single, right?”
Even more surprised, Zack blinks as his attention drifts to you. He hesitates, and for just a moment, you wonder if he recognizes you.
This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this house. And it’s not the first time you’ve met Zack. However, you and Harry have been rather diligent about keeping your visits a secret, even from the other boys that live here.
Still, Zack almost caught you once when you were forced to hide in the shower as he brushed his teeth. And even though he didn’t seem to notice, Harry mentioned that he did see the earrings you accidentally left behind. The same earrings he proceeded to tease Harry about for the next week.
And the same earrings you’re wearing now.
But, if he’s begun to put two and two together, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he shakes his head. “Nah, not really. I’m kind of seeing Annie. I guess.”
You smirk. “You guess?”
“I mean, we’re fucking,” he argues. “But, like
I wouldn’t say we’re together. But she would. I don’t know. But she’d be fucking pissed if I went out with someone else.”
To your surprise, Zack seems to be covering for you. Because you happen to know Annie is actually seeing Derek. She and Zack never got past the drunk-fuck phase, but it seems Jessica doesn’t realize the lie being told. That, or she’s lost interest.
“Oh, boo,” she pouts before turning to you. “Well, I tried. Sorry, babe.”
You laugh. “More than all right. I’m
I’m gonna go use the bathroom and maybe look for some water. I’ll meet you here in a bit?”
“Yes! Text me! Or call me. Or
just yell my name really loud,” she says, already slipping into the next room. “Whenever you wanna go, we will, okay? Seriously.”
“Got it,” you call. And with that, the two of you split. Leaving you to look for the only man you really care to see.
He’s no longer talking to his friend and doesn’t seem to be in the lower part of the house. So, you make your way to the next floor. Shoving past couples making out on the staircase and groups doing blow in the bathroom.
He might be in his room, although that’s perhaps a little too obvious. You still aren’t ready for people to know that the two of you are
well, whatever you two are. And you can’t imagine he is, either. Not considering his reputation and the other girls he’s been with before. 
Compared to them, you’re just
you.
Swallowing your own disappointment, you continue down the hall in search of him when a large hand suddenly wraps around your upper arm and yanks you into a bedroom.
You aren’t surprised that it’s him. You aren’t even surprised that he’s brought you back to his room. You are, however, rather confused by the giddy grin on his face.
“You came,” he whispers before he’s shoving you against the closed door and kissing you hard. “Been waiting all fucking night to see you.”
You’re breathless. You always are when you’re with him, but this
now. His kiss, his touch, his voice. The sultry way he speaks that goes straight to the place between your thighs.
“Missed you,” he says. He sucks on the spot below your ear. “God, I really fucking missed you, angel. You have no idea.”
“You saw me this morning,” you remind him. “And for lunch in your car.”
“S’too long,” he argues. “You don’t know what you do to me, baby.”
You grin. Even if you know he’s merely being cute, you can’t help but believe him. “Yeah, okay.”
“I mean it. Besides, you think I wanna watch Zack fucking hit on you all goddamn night?”
You lean back. “You saw?”
“Course I fucking saw. Could hear that shit-eating grin from outside,” he huffs before he’s kissing you again, as if to prove a point. Either to you or to himself. “But he wouldn’t if you’d just let me take you on a proper date.”
“H
”
“Yeah, I know.” His kisses get softer. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“No, I
I get it,” you sigh against his cheek. “I just
it’s hard—”
He takes your face between his hands and makes you look at him. “I know, angel. M’not pushing, I promise. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” 
You squeeze his wrists and smile. You sometimes find yourself surprised by how willing he is to be seen with you. You aren’t sure why, but you always assumed he’d be ashamed. That he’d be the one to want to hide. To lock you away and keep your rendezvous a secret. 
And maybe you like it this way because you’re afraid. Because you’re worried that once he sees how odd the two of you look together, he won’t want you anymore. That the relentless teasing and comparisons will drive him to end things.
And you’ll be devastated.
Perhaps sensing where your mind has gone, Harry resumes his work on your throat, efficiently distracting you. You happily relinquish your overthinking to him and his intentions, and it feels good. You used to be scared of being touched, of being loved. But it’s becoming easier with him. A routine you wouldn’t trade for the world.
He begins to pull you toward his bed. It’s made for once, which you have to admit impresses you. Harry doesn’t tend to devote his time to things he doesn’t think matter. Like cleaning his space, taking notes, or worrying about his classes. Somehow, he manages to pass every semester, keeping his spot on the football team, while you struggle to keep up even with all the time in the world.
Half the time you suggest studying together, it’s because you’d actually like his help.
“Wait
wait, Har,” you murmur as he sits onto the mattress and begins to pull you in a straddle over his thighs. “Wait, not
not when you’ve been drinking—”
“Haven’t,” he exhales against your mouth. “S’just Sprite. Coach doesn’t let us drink before a game.”
Almost relieved, you lift a brow. “But he doesn’t mind a wild party?”
He smirks. “Technically, we’re not supposed to do that either. But
I kind of live here, so
”
“Ah.” You dip down and press your lips to his softly. “Then I guess you just don’t have a choice, huh?”
“Nope.” He moves his hands to your waist, subtly grinding your body over his until you both groan. “Besides. I’d much rather be here with you than down there with them.”
“Mm. That’s the right answer,” you tease as he laughs and slips his fingers under your dress. 
You know this dance by now. You even enjoy it when Harry’s at the lead. He knows what he’s doing, even if you don’t. And he knows just how to teach you. Show you. Guide you. 
You take a deep breath and let yourself submit. Let his hands roam, his thighs flex. Let his mouth travel down your neck and to the curve of your shoulder. He slips the strap down until he has more room and then he moves for your chest. Hungry kisses meant to devour you.
“My pretty girl,” he whispers, tongue licking a stripe along the top of your breast. “Wore this just to torture me, didn’t you?”
Your lashes flutter. “Thought
thought it would be easier.”
“Easier?” He glances up, smirk devious. “You wanted me to have easy access to your pretty pussy?”
The vulgar language brings a fervent heat right to your face. You glance away out of habit, but he doesn’t let you this time. Instead, he pinches your chin tight between his fingers and forces your attention back.
“Is that right, angel?” he asks again, firm.
You swallow. “
yes.”
“Mm. Good girl,” he mumbles before moving his hand to your tit. Squeezing it gently while wrapping his lips over your nipple. “Or maybe you’re my naughty girl tonight. Yeah? Wearing something so sinful. Just for me.”
You nod quickly as your nails scratch down his scalp. “Just for you.”
“Mhm. Not Zack.”
“No. No, not Zack.”
He simpers at the sound of your breathless whines. Enjoying the way your hips roll against his. The way your naked thighs feel against his clothed ones. “Gonna let me take care of you, baby? Let me have a little taste?”
Your stomach flips. Harry has introduced you to a world of pleasure you never knew possible, but you still can’t deny that it makes you feel vulnerable. The way your body is put on display for him. Accessible to his tongue, his hands, his

You close your eyes and force a nod. You just won’t think about it. You’ll let him have his taste and then he’ll start. You understand the science behind it. Your body needs to be properly lubricated before he can begin. And it’s not exactly a step you care to skip, even if it does make you nervous.
He grins at your reaction before he’s leaning back onto the bed and dragging you up toward his face, that bright red hat falling off in the process.
He’s mentioned this position before. Apparently, it’s his favorite, but it certainly isn’t one you’re used to. You don’t understand the mechanics. How you’re meant to surrender control but also keep from crushing his pretty face beneath your weight.
“Angel,” he calls, pulling you back. “What did I say last time, hm?”
“I
I know, I just
” You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you—”
“You won’t,” he promises yet again. “You can’t. I know what I’m doing, yeah? Trust me. Just let me do this, I’ve got you.”
And you know that he does. So, surrendering your inhibitions, you let him place you just where he wants before he nods at you to pull your underwear to the side.
You do. Fingers shaking as you drag the damp fabric away and present yourself to his tongue. You want to look away. Want to hide from the growing look of hunger in his eyes, but he’s already sucking on you before you can.
And once he starts
things don’t seem so bad.
His tongue is magic. His lips are divine. Even his hands are wonderful with the way they hold you still. 
You think you could spend a lifetime against his mouth. Live here, die here. Do anything and be anything he wanted so long as he never stopped.
“Doing so good for me, pretty girl,” he says after a moment, and you almost miss it over the faint thumping of music outside his room. “You okay?”
You nod, fingers back between his curls as you brace yourself. “Yes
yes, I’m
I’m all right. Am I
am I too—”
“No,” he says simply. “No, you’re perfect. Don’t move. M’having so much fun.”
And you don’t doubt that he is. His eyes are closed and he’s feasting on you like he’s been starved his whole life. His entire face is between your folds, licking, sucking, nipping. Wet sounds that are somehow louder than the noise outside. 
You can’t help the way you groan. The way you say his name and shake in his hands. It’s too much and you’re still unsure how to handle so much ecstasy.
But he knows. And he keeps you planted on his tongue until you’ve nearly soaked his entire face. And then
he stops. Seconds before you can find that sweet release and you gasp as he pops off and scoots you back.
“What
what did I do?” you pant.
He laughs while he sits up, cupping your cheek in his palm before pulling you forward for a kiss. “Nothing,” he whispers, and the taste of you on his lips makes your insides twist. “I told you, you’re perfect. I just have something else in mind.”
“Oh.” Your fingers twist together. “Do you
do you want me to
?”
He smiles again then shakes his head. “Not this time, pretty girl. You know I don’t always expect that, right? I don’t eat you out just so you’ll suck me off.”
“I
I know.”
“Good. I eat you out because I fucking love it.” Another kiss. “And not just to get you wet.”
You feel your features scrunch, the urge to hide much stronger. “I know.”
“And I don’t want you to forget. I love watching you take me down your throat, but only when and if you want to. Tonight, I thought we could maybe try something we haven’t yet.”
“Oh
”
His eyes settle on yours. “I want you to ride me.”
Your lips part. “You
oh.”
“We’ve talked about that before, yeah?” He sweeps his thumb across your cheek. “About if you think you’d be comfortable?”
“Yeah, we
yeah. I
I don’t mind. I just
I don’t know
”
“I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ll show you, hm? We can just try it and see how you feel. And if you don’t like it, we can do something else.”
It’s a good plan. A solid plan, and even if you’re unsure, you can’t help but feel excited. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats happily before scooting back toward the headboard. “All right, can you take me out, angel?”
Eagerly, you agree, crawling after him until your fingers find his jeans. Seeing such a massive dick always tends to surprise you, but you find that you feel more confident now than you did before. He’s beautiful, every inch of him. And he seems to love the way you touch him. The way you look at him, admire him.
And that’s your favorite part.
“Good girl,” he coos as you reach inside his boxers to wrap your palm around him. “Not so shy anymore, hm?”
You shake your head, lip between your teeth as you release him from his pants. 
He laughs. “I can see that. Can you give me your hand, pretty girl?”
You oblige and he pulls your palm to his mouth before he’s spitting directly in the center. A large wad that sits snugly in your hand before he drops it back down to his cock and nods at you to continue.
You drag the wet substance up and down his rather impressive length until he’s glistening. He’s already quite hard, but your delicate strokes seem to get him the rest of the way. Until he’s standing straight up and nearly leaking. 
“Good,” he says again, a tad breathless. “So fucking good at that, you know?”
You smile. “Practice makes perfect.”
“Mhm.” He chuckles. “Then can you show me how good you are at putting me in?”
You nod fervently. The academic overachiever in you is always anxious to prove yourself to him. To show that you’ve learned, you’ve improved. That you’re worthy of his time and his body. 
You use one hand to guide him and the other to keep your panties to the side. He, in turn, makes sure to lift your dress high enough that you can both see and the moment his tip makes contact with your throbbing clit, you whimper.
“Shh,” he murmurs. “You’re all right. Go ahead and tap it a couple times, yeah?”
Forcing your pulse to steady, you do. The heavy appendage seems to taunt you as you pat it against your pussy and the sensitive nerves that make your legs shake. But it feels like heaven and even Harry has to take in a labored breath as he watches.
The two of you rarely use condoms these days. You did when you first started, but after getting tested and being assured that you were the only person he was sleeping with, you decided to try just once without.
And you know the risks. Know it’s rather idiotic to tempt fate the way you do. The pill isn’t a guarantee, and you know neither one of you are ready to be parents.
But after feeling him
feeling all of him
you became addicted. Despite your better judgement, you found yourself eager to feel him again. And again. And again. 
And now, well
now you don’t think you can go without.
“There you go,” he sighs. “Just like that. S’it feel good?”
“Mm
mhm.”
“Good. Go on, baby, put me in now.”
With his help, you lift up and guide his large head toward your hole. Slowly pushing it in while dropping yourself down.
“Fuck,” he exhales through a groan. “Shit, just like that. You okay? S’it hurt?”
You shake your head. You don’t have the strength to speak.
“Okay. Keep going.”
You do. A steady pace that seems to torture you both until the whines and cries slip out before you can stop them. 
“Goddamn, angel,” he grits. “Shit, you feel so fucking good. You still all right? Know what to say if you’re not?”
“Ye—yeah.”
“Attagirl. Okay, baby, I want you to lift up now, yeah? Nice and slow.”
Doing your best not to tremble, you raise back up and feel the way his thick cock seems to stretch you open. The way it travels through your body, making you feel empty without it. 
And once you’re near the tip, he pulls you back down, and you start again. 
The speed is tediously languid. It almost hurts and the noises tumble from your lips one after the other without pause.
Your thighs burn. Your core burns. Every inch of you seems to be screaming, yet Harry doesn’t break a sweat.
“Doing so good,” he praises again. He pulls at your jaw until you kiss him. “Know it’s hard, but you look so good riding my cock right now.”
You only mewl. Loud and incoherent. 
He releases your cheek to reach for something on the nightstand beside him. Something you don’t see through your hazed vision until he begins to unwrap it and bring it to your mouth.
His bandana.
It’s his favorite one, too. The white one, with little back details on it. But you aren’t exactly sure what he expects you to do with it now
until he smirks.
“M’gonna put this in your mouth,” he says before resting it on your lips. “Gotta keep you quiet since I didn’t lock the door. Don’t want anyone to hear you and come lookin’, hm?”
Your eyes widen as you gape at him. “Harry—”
“Sorry. S’just too distracted.” He grins. “Open up, pretty girl.”
Rather excitedly, you obey. Giving him just enough room to slip the fabric between your teeth until you can clamp down and he can fasten it in a knot against the back of your head.
“There you go,” he declares when he’s through. “Now you can be as loud as you want, yeah?”
You nod.
“Mm.” He dips down to start kissing at your chest. “Can you keep going, baby? Or do you need me to take over?”
Your lashes flutter.
“I know,” he coos when he sees the fucked-out expression on your face. “S’hard, isn’t it? My angel’s getting tired, huh?”
Another nod, slower.
“Okay,” he chuckles. He grabs onto your hips and straightens up. “Okay, I’ll fuck you.”
Just like that, he resumes the pace you set. Using every muscle in his thighs and abdomen to fuck his cock up into you and leave you a wilting, blubbering mess.
The poor bandana becomes soaked as he pounds into you. Faster and faster while your body shakes and drool pools at the sides of your mouth. 
Your whimpers sound shuddered now. In tune with his fast thrusts and the wet, lewd cacophony of your bodies connecting. Pornographic in nature yet somehow
euphoric. 
He sucks your tit back into his mouth and you clutch onto his scalp. Nails scratching at his neck, shoulders, and chest until you feel your orgasm coming up on you once more. 
And he feels it, too. Features twisting at the way you clench around him. The way your body draws him in, treats him right. He’s obsessed and he’s told you as much. Even with the level of stamina he possesses, he can never seem to last all that long when it comes to you.
“Fucking hell,” he groans before he’s tightening his hold on your waist. “Shit, s’it feel good? Like being on top, angel?”
You nod and press your forehead to his. Even if it’s rather exhausting, you can feel him in places you couldn’t before. Nudging against your g-spot until you see stars and have to physically fight the urge to cum. 
“No, don’t,” he pants, seeming to sense it. “Want you to cum. Right now, baby. Okay? Let me feel you first.”
Even if you wanted to argue, you can’t. The low, graveled instruction goes straight to your cunt and you cum before you can stop yourself. Drenching his cock, his thighs, your thighs. You sway, go limp in his hold. Until you’re slumping against his chest as he fucks you through every second of it.
“There,” he praises, large hand rubbing up and down your back. “God, you’re fucking good at that. Love the way you cum for me. S’fucking heaven.”
You know he’s close. And you know he won’t finish inside you, instead wasting his offering on his stomach or somewhere else.
So, you get an idea. You pull off him as best you can while he hisses and resists the temptation to release inside you before you slip the bandana back out and crawl down his lap.
Then, you take him in your mouth. It only takes two sucks before he’s grabbing at your neck and finishing down your throat. The warm, sticky substance familiar and far too thrilling. 
He cums and he cums until you’ve nearly sucked him dry and his tired body melts into the bed.
He whispers your name and fights to keep his eyes open so he can gaze at you. Then, he tugs on you. “Come here.”
He kisses you. Tongue and teeth clashing in a messy exchange, but he doesn’t mind. He loves it. Moans into your mouth and pulls you against his heart until you can both catch your breath.
You revel in the post-orgasm glow. Body’s abuzz and slightly sweaty from the workout. But you wouldn’t trade this ache in your joints for anything. 
And you realize you wouldn’t trade him, either. 
“You okay?” he murmurs after a moment.
You hum. “Yeah. M’tired.”
“Yeah,” he echoes with a gentle laugh. “It was fun, though, right?”
“Mhm. Very.”
“Think you’ll wanna do it again?”
“Maybe,” you admit. “As long as you do all the work again.”
His laugh is louder this time. “Deal. Or maybe we’ll just have to work out your muscles until you can do it all on your own.”
“Mm
unlikely.”
“But maybe.”
“Maybe not.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Might hurt.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He smiles. “Can you stay tonight?”
“I don’t know. Jess might be looking for me.”
“Tell her you’re staying.”
“I can’t.”
“You don’t have to tell her who you’re with.”
“H,” you sigh. “She thinks I’m a virgin prude. If she knows I’m staying, she won’t let it go until she finds out who I stayed with.”
The room falls silent. You feel him sigh. “Yeah, I know.”
You glance up. “I’ll tell her one of these days, I promise. I just
I wanna keep you to myself. Just a little longer.”
His grin splits his face. “Good. Think I might wanna keep you, too.”
He kisses you again. Soft, slow, sensual. Filled with all the words neither of you are brave enough to say out loud. And long enough to leave you breathless.
Until the door opens.
And Zack walks in.
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God I love fratrry 😭💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry
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avatar-anna · 13 days
Text
Save a Horse...
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2024 Masterlist
"Reading anything interesting?" Harry asked as he entered the den, your favorite place to read.
Holding your Kindle to your chest, you said, "Uh, I guess. I only just started it, so."
Harry raised a brow skeptically as he sat in the loveseat across from the bay window where you sat. "Really?" he asked. "You've been in here a while."
"I—I got stuck on my phone for a while," you said. "You know how it is."
"Hm."
Not saying anything else, Harry picked up his own book and opened it. You watched him for a moment, brows furrowed. As far as you were concerned, he was working all afternoon. You didn't typically mind, you took the quiet afternoons to run errands, tend to your garden outside, try out new recipes, and read.
Most of the time, you read. Harry had always known you to be a bookworm, the first time you met you had a novel in your hand and one in the bag over your shoulder. Books were how you communicated—gifts just because, as a form of apology, ones you thought you might enjoy together, which rarely ever happened. You left them in places for Harry to find like his guitar case or his carry on when he left for tour, and he put novels in different purses of yours or among the stacks on your bookshelf to see if you'd notice the new addition.
It was safe to say that both of you loved to read, but quiet afternoons like this were typically ones you enjoyed alone, specifically so Harry wouldn't see you blush or question what it was you were blushing at.
You glanced down at your Kindle, at the paragraph you left off on. "Jack shoved Delilah against the barn's door before ripping her blouse wide open to reveal her bare chest. Buttons scattered against the floor, but Delilah didn't care, not when Jack kissed a searing path toward her—"
"You know what? I think I'm gonna start on dinner," you said, clicking your Kindle shut before standing up.
Looking at your boyfriend was the wrong move. Harry lay stretched out on the loveseat, his shorts riding up on his thighs revealing more of his toned legs than you would've liked. That wasn't the first...steamy scene in your book, and let's just say looking at your very sexy boyfriend wasn't curbing the feeling of need coursing through your veins.
Harry definitely wouldn't have been opposed if you crawled into his lap right now, but he'd ask questions, questions that were too embarrassing to answer.
"Dinner?" he asked, setting his book down in his lap. His reading glasses, which had been perched high on the bridge of his nose, slid down, his hair adorably rumpled. If you hadn't known he'd been in his home studio all day today, you would've guessed he'd just rolled out of bed. "It's one o'clock, baby."
"Or nap," you said, hating how skittish you sounded. "Maybe take a nap. I don't know, I'm not really feeling like reading right now."
"Well, that's a first," Harry said, his voice slightly teasing. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing!" you insisted, though you answered a little too hastily, and your voice might've been higher than usual. Scratching the back of your neck, you tried to quell your heartbeat. "Nothing. Why—Why would you ask that?"
"Because you're acting...strange," Harry concluded. A small smile flickered at the corner of his mouth as he looked you up and down. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the book you're reading on that thing, would it?"
He nodded toward the Kindle in your hands with a raised brow. It was a little too pointed, as if he knew exactly what you kept on it. You and Harry both enjoyed the feel of a physical book in your hands, but you had an e-reader too. For convenience, you told Harry. And it was convenient. Your Kindle was light, you could carry a library in your purse and it barely weighed a pound, and it conveniently hid your most scandalous book titles.
"N—No," you said, fighting the urge to hide your Kindle behind your back, or chuck it across the room until it broke and was unusable. "Like—Like I said, I'm just not in the mood to read."
"Okay, I'll join you then. I'm a little tired myself."
Harry stood up and stretched his arms high above his head, his t-shirt rising with him. Your eyes zeroed in on the sliver of skin that revealed itself. Tan, tattooed skin, taught with muscle, a light trail of hair that led into the waistband of his briefs. Your cheeks were already flaming red from the situation at hand, but seeing his skin, seeing Harry be...Harry without even trying was too much. You thought you might combust.
"Why?" It was a stupid question, one you knew Harry saw right through.
"Why are you so eager to not hang out with me?" he asked back, his eyes narrowing. "And what's got you so flustered today? Has Jack ravished Delilah again?"
"Wh—What?"
Harry smirked at you, his eyes filled with mischief as he nodded at the e-reader in your hands. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know what you keep on there."
What? "Since when? And how—how do you know about—"
"You fell asleep reading last night," Harry explained. "And the Kindle was still on. I mean, I've always had my suspicions because you're always blushing when you've got that thing in your hands, but I got curious."
"I—You—You snooped—"
"I'm sorry, baby. I wouldn't have looked if I knew you'd be upset about it," he said, stepping closer. "But you shouldn't be. Nothing to be embarrassed about here."
You looked down at the socks on your feet instead of Harry coming closer to you. He said there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but you couldn't help but feel it creeping along your skin. You didn't do anything wrong, but you felt dirty for some reason, like you'd gotten caught doing something you knew you shouldn't have.
Crossing your arms across your chest, you said, "So, are you going to tease me about it or what?"
"Nothing to tease about, baby. I already told you that. I just didn't realize you had a thing for cowboys, that's all."
You huffed. You knew you weren't getting off that easy. "Shut up."
"No really," Harry said. You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice. "I wish you'd told me sooner. I would've gotten a hat, gotten the right jeans. Is that why you're into that show now? The one with all the cowboys and horseback riding and—"
"Alright, alright. I get it," you said, finally looking at him. Looking up at him, more like. Harry was practically toe to toe with you, his hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You know what? I'm taking me and my Kindle upstairs and I'm going to finish reading Jack—what did you call it?—ravish Delilah."
Harry let you stomp away in a huff, chuckling at your back as you left the den. Going up to the bedroom you shared with Harry, you settled on the bed and turned your Kindle back on.
Your eyes flitted across the screen, tracking over each word but not really reading them. You wanted to lose yourself in the story, in the scene laid out before you, but you couldn't.
"So, is it the hats that do it for you? Or the accents?"
Rolling your eyes, you tossed your Kindle to the side. Harry leaned against the doorframe, his eyes still holding that mirth in them. Narrowing your eyes at him, you said, "The ruggedness, I think. There's something so...manly about a guy on a horse and doing honest work, manual labor. Know what I mean?"
His nose wrinkled as he laughed. "Ha ha. I think I'm gonna have to download some other kinds of novels on there. Ones about rockstars falling for their fans, maybe?"
Harry began crawling onto the bed toward you, only stopping when you pressed a foot to his chest. "Really?"
"Definitely more rooted in reality than your wrangler fantasies," he said, then turned his head to the side. Pushing back your yoga pants, Harr pressed a tiny kiss to your ankle, then worked his way up your leg, toward the back of your knee. "Take these off, baby. And pick up that book of yours too."
You didn't need to be told twice about ditching your pants, but the book part made you pause. "Why the book? You were teasing me about it not even a minute ago."
"I am going to make sure you enjoy it," Harry said, though it sounded more like a promise.
Excitement flipped in your belly, your cheeks flushed with anticipation. "Yeah? Maybe next time I'll get you a cowboy hat."
Harry raised his brows, a crooked smile inching up his face. "I could get behind that. Now don't make me ask you again, baby."
Harry tugged on your ankle until you lay flat against the mattress with a squeak. "I'm going, I'm going!" you cried with an excited giggle, shoving your yoga pants down and wriggling out of them. Harry's hands, which were calloused from years of playing the guitar were rough against your skin, but it sent a lick of curling heat down your spine.
"The book, baby. Go on."
Your lips pursed as you looked at Harry. His lips were wet from where he'd swiped his tongue over them, the pads of his fingers trailing up and down the skin of your inner thighs. The light stubble of his cheeks scratched your skin, but it didn't hurt, it felt thrilling as he looked up at you through his lashes, green eyes glinting with promise.
Keeping eye contact, you reached for the abandoned Kindle, clicking it on and looking down at where you left off. Harry continued to lean against your thigh, stroking his thumb up and down while you settled against the bed. Nothing for one page, then more nothing, then he began to prop your leg up, then the other.
"Jack flipped Delilah over, his hands splaying across her bare back until they found purchase in the tresses of her dark red hair. 'Come on,' Delilah panted, already breathless from the mere anticipation of him filling her. It hadn't been long since they last fucked, but it felt like an age. She needed it more than she cared to admit. Badly enough that she was willing to do it in a dusty old barn. 'What are you waiting for—' 'Maybe I should put it in your mouth instead. That'll shut you up—"
"Oh." You gasped, pleasure tingling through your whole body.
"Is that me or Jack?" Harry asked, his voice vibrating through you, nose nudging against you in a way that had your toes curling.
"Jack," you teased, then arced your back against the bed with a groan.
"Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me," he said before parting your legs further. "Keep going. Don't put it down until I tell you."
"But—Ow!"
Harry kissed the juncture of your thigh, right where he'd pinched it. "Keep going," he repeated.
"Rude," you muttered but picked the e-reader nonetheless.
When you continued, so did Harry. It was hard to keep focus. Not when teased with his nose, or when he expertly worked you over with his tongue, especially not when he thrust his fingers inside you relentlessly. Still, you waited, still you read, waiting for Harry to tell you you could stop.
You were two orgasms in when he finally looked up, chin glistening and evil smirk shining as he glanced up at you. "I think that was all me, don't you?"
"Shut up and fuck me," you said airily, breaths still falling heavily. Giggling, you continued. "That I got from Delilah."
Harry crept up the bed until his face was level with you. His nose against yours before kissing it. "Tell me more."
"I could tell you," you said with a grin that matched Harry's. Reaching for the waistband of his shorts and briefs, you began to tug. "But I think we'd both have more fun if I showed you."
Harry leaned onto his back and rested his arms above his head, settling back with a grin as you climbed on top of him. His eyes rolled back blissfully to a single roll of your hips before they settled back on you.
"Show me then, baby."
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avatar-anna · 13 days
Note
I just BINGED all the young dad h and young mom reader and I NEED MKRE they are jsut so đŸ€đŸ˜
the young parent universe is my mona lisa i fear
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avatar-anna · 14 days
Text
another day another banger from ms firefly
Teenage Dirtbag*
Summary: The one where Harry's popular, cool, and everything you aren't. And maybe you want to keep him your dirty, little secret.
Word Count: 5.5k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, gag, exhibitionism if you squint, fratrry, not suitable for Ramadan!
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“Okay, next question. What is the Albedo Effect?”
“27.”
“Harry, come on.”
“What?”
“I need an answer.”
“That is an answer. Maybe not to this question, but it’s an answer to some question.”
Your expression falls flat as you toss a piece of popcorn at him. “H, seriously.”
“What?”
“We’re supposed to be studying.”
“We are.”
“No, actually studying.” You toss another piece at him, which he catches in his mouth. “Harry—"
“The Albedo Effect is the reflectivity of the Earth’s surface,” he finally says before grinning smugly. “There. Happy?” 
“Mm.”
“Since I got it right, do I win a kiss?”
“No. You win another question,” you say before switching to the next notecard. “Okay, what is the average temperature of the Earth’s surface?”
“27.”
“Harry.”
He laughs before he’s reaching across the bed to grab the stack of notebooks, cards, and books all over your lap. Effortlessly discarding of them while leaning toward you to ghost his lips over yours. “59 degrees Fahrenheit.”
Your lashes flutter. You want to argue. Want to fight him and demand your things back. But it’s hard when he’s this close. “Um
right.”
He smiles, mouth dangerously tempting as it dances along the curve of your jaw. “Give me another.”
“I
” You swallow. “I can’t. You stole my cards.”
“Oh, did I? Oops.”
“You’re mean.”
“Yeah. But you like me.”
“Not right now.”
“Yes now. Always.”
You huff. “I’m not
I’m not kissing you until we finish studying—”
“Well, I’m not studying until you kiss me.”
“Harry—”
“What, angel?”
You fist his shirt. You mean to push him away and yet somehow, he ends up even closer. “I didn’t invite you over for this.”
“I know.” He smirks again. “This is just a bonus.”
“We agreed to study.”
“We are.”
“Jessica’s gonna be back soon—”
“So?”
“So, you know you can’t be here when she gets here,” you remind him, finally finding the strength to shove him back. “Come on, a few more questions and then we can take a break.”
“You said that a few questions ago,” he argues.
You grab the cards. “Oops.”
Fifteen minutes go by before you finally reach the end of your notes, earning a loud sigh from your study buddy as he flops onto his back in defeat. 
“That was awful,” he declares. His head rolls until his eyes find yours. A soft green beneath those long lashes. “You take way too many notes.”
“I like to be prepared,” you pout as you stand and put them back on your desk. “You don’t take nearly enough.”
“Because I have you.”
“Yeah, well
that’s cheating.”
“It’s not cheating if I’m helping you use them.”
You turn around and place your hands on your hips. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
“Yeah.” He sits up and reaches for you. Easily tugging you between his legs as you try—futilely—not to fall for that gorgeous grin. “And yet you keep me around.”
“Mm
for now.”
“For now, huh?” His large hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt and you do nothing to stop him. “You just use me for my cock, is that it? Cause I’m a good fuck?”
Your skin grows warm as you look away. “Stop it, don’t say it like that.”
“What? M’I embarrassing you, pretty girl?” he whispers. He squeezes your sides, palms soft against your stomach. “Which part did it? Cock or fuck?”
You close your eyes and groan. “Harry—”
“What? They’re just words, baby.”
“Yeah, but they’re dirty words.”
He’s grinning again. Arrogant and far too smug. “I’ve seen this pretty mouth do far dirtier things—”
You bury your face in your hands to hide. “Please don’t remind me—”
“Why not? Hm? You don’t wanna remember the way you took me down your throat like a good girl?” He lifts your shirt and presses a gentle kiss just below your belly button. “Or what about the way you scratched your nails down my back as you came? Crying my name until your voice went raw?”
“Harry
”
“What about when I fingered you under the table?” he murmurs, then moves his kisses up your torso. One after the other. Slow. “And you had to bite your cute, little lip to keep from moaning?”
You start to squirm. “H
H, please—”
“What about the time I bent you over that desk—” He nods his chin toward the table in the corner of your dorm room. “—and made you cum so hard, you squirted.”
You make another noise and melt into his touch. They’re good memories, you know that. But they do unspeakable things to your anxiety. Just the thought of what someone might say
the idea of what the two of you have done. You weren’t raised to think or feel so freely and Harry is a master at making you nervous.
You’ve done more with him than you ever have anyone else. More than you imagined you’d ever do. And even if you wouldn’t trade it for the world, you can’t say you really welcome the reminder.
His kisses reach your chest. Naked and bare and begging to be touched. “You can be dirty, too, pretty girl.” 
Your hand finds his hair. Fingers sweeping through his soft curls that are normally restrained by some sort of beanie or bandana. “H
”
He hums. He knows he’s embarrassing you. But you suppose that’s why he does it. 
The small room falls silent, save for the gentle sounds of his kisses as they move toward your breast. His tongue is dangerously close and you know if he gets his way, you’ll never get anything else done.
However, just before those pretty pink lips can make contact, you hear the sound of your roommate’s voice down the hall. Loud enough to startle you and pull you out from between his legs.
Quickly, you’re tugging your shirt back down and grabbing his hand to lead him to the window. Nearly shoving him out onto the fire escape before he’s even had a chance to catch his breath.
“Go,” you whisper as you toss his flannel at him. “Hurry.”
“You know, as much as I like being your dirty little secret, you know she’s gonna find out eventually,” he says while dipping beneath the window frame until he’s completely out of the room.
“I know. But today is not that day.”
Once you’re sure she won’t see him, you get ready to close the curtains. But you’re stopped by his large hand slipping around the back of your neck as he yanks your mouths together. Finally getting the kiss he so desperately wanted.
“You’re still coming to the party this Friday, yeah?” he murmurs against your lips.
You kiss him back just once before you’re shoving at him again. “We’ll see,” you call.
He winks.
With that, the window slams shut, and he disappears into the darkness. Right as Jessica slips inside the room and begins to tell you about her incredibly long day.
And every trace of Harry has gone.
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“Ten minutes. Just ten minutes. And if we hate it, we can leave.”
“All right, fine,” you agree, begrudgingly following your friend into the large, familiar house that sits a few miles outside of campus. “Ten. But if I get a single drink spilled on me
I’m out.”
“Deal.”
You laugh as Jess throws her arm around your shoulders to lead you inside, shoving past the group of college students already gathering in the living room.
Every inch of the house is packed full of people. The music is loud, the smell of weed is strong, and a lively game of cup pong is being had down the hall. Truth be told, this scene always tends to catch you off guard. No, this isn’t your first party. But you were raised in a world and in a home where drugs and alcohol were never present. 
You don’t mind being around them or watching people participate, but the concept is still rather foreign to you. Even if Harry’s presence in your life is beginning to change that.
Speaking of, you can’t help but search for him as Jessica drags you from room to room. You imagine he’s around somewhere. After all, this is his frat house, and you’ve never known him to miss a party.
But with the football game happening tomorrow night, you wonder if he’ll be out practicing or if he’ll be here with his teammates, pre-gaming.
You catch a glimpse of his red, backwards baseball cap as you’re leaving the kitchen. He’s across the house, clad in a black, graphic t-shirt and skinny jeans, leaning against the wall as he talks to one of his friends.
He’s nodding along to something they’re saying, taking slow sips of whatever’s in his solo cup while lazily looking around.
And that’s when he finds you.
Even with all these people, you feel like the only two in the room. And you catch the way he smiles. A soft, secret smirk meant just for you. And a gleam in his eye as he takes another sip and returns to his conversation.
He’s glad you’re here and honestly, you think you are, too.
“Oh, Zack, there you are!” Jessica suddenly exclaims before she’s yanking you toward one of the guys on Harry’s team. “Zack, this is the friend I was telling you about.”
A bit confused, you and Zack exchange a nod as your roommate begins the excited introductions.
“This is the guy I wanted to set you up with,” she whispers under her breath before straightening up. “So, uh, Zack! You’re single, right?”
Even more surprised, Zack blinks as his attention drifts to you. He hesitates, and for just a moment, you wonder if he recognizes you.
This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this house. And it’s not the first time you’ve met Zack. However, you and Harry have been rather diligent about keeping your visits a secret, even from the other boys that live here.
Still, Zack almost caught you once when you were forced to hide in the shower as he brushed his teeth. And even though he didn’t seem to notice, Harry mentioned that he did see the earrings you accidentally left behind. The same earrings he proceeded to tease Harry about for the next week.
And the same earrings you’re wearing now.
But, if he’s begun to put two and two together, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he shakes his head. “Nah, not really. I’m kind of seeing Annie. I guess.”
You smirk. “You guess?”
“I mean, we’re fucking,” he argues. “But, like
I wouldn’t say we’re together. But she would. I don’t know. But she’d be fucking pissed if I went out with someone else.”
To your surprise, Zack seems to be covering for you. Because you happen to know Annie is actually seeing Derek. She and Zack never got past the drunk-fuck phase, but it seems Jessica doesn’t realize the lie being told. That, or she’s lost interest.
“Oh, boo,” she pouts before turning to you. “Well, I tried. Sorry, babe.”
You laugh. “More than all right. I’m
I’m gonna go use the bathroom and maybe look for some water. I’ll meet you here in a bit?”
“Yes! Text me! Or call me. Or
just yell my name really loud,” she says, already slipping into the next room. “Whenever you wanna go, we will, okay? Seriously.”
“Got it,” you call. And with that, the two of you split. Leaving you to look for the only man you really care to see.
He’s no longer talking to his friend and doesn’t seem to be in the lower part of the house. So, you make your way to the next floor. Shoving past couples making out on the staircase and groups doing blow in the bathroom.
He might be in his room, although that’s perhaps a little too obvious. You still aren’t ready for people to know that the two of you are
well, whatever you two are. And you can’t imagine he is, either. Not considering his reputation and the other girls he’s been with before. 
Compared to them, you’re just
you.
Swallowing your own disappointment, you continue down the hall in search of him when a large hand suddenly wraps around your upper arm and yanks you into a bedroom.
You aren’t surprised that it’s him. You aren’t even surprised that he’s brought you back to his room. You are, however, rather confused by the giddy grin on his face.
“You came,” he whispers before he’s shoving you against the closed door and kissing you hard. “Been waiting all fucking night to see you.”
You’re breathless. You always are when you’re with him, but this
now. His kiss, his touch, his voice. The sultry way he speaks that goes straight to the place between your thighs.
“Missed you,” he says. He sucks on the spot below your ear. “God, I really fucking missed you, angel. You have no idea.”
“You saw me this morning,” you remind him. “And for lunch in your car.”
“S’too long,” he argues. “You don’t know what you do to me, baby.”
You grin. Even if you know he’s merely being cute, you can’t help but believe him. “Yeah, okay.”
“I mean it. Besides, you think I wanna watch Zack fucking hit on you all goddamn night?”
You lean back. “You saw?”
“Course I fucking saw. Could hear that shit-eating grin from outside,” he huffs before he’s kissing you again, as if to prove a point. Either to you or to himself. “But he wouldn’t if you’d just let me take you on a proper date.”
“H
”
“Yeah, I know.” His kisses get softer. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“No, I
I get it,” you sigh against his cheek. “I just
it’s hard—”
He takes your face between his hands and makes you look at him. “I know, angel. M’not pushing, I promise. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” 
You squeeze his wrists and smile. You sometimes find yourself surprised by how willing he is to be seen with you. You aren’t sure why, but you always assumed he’d be ashamed. That he’d be the one to want to hide. To lock you away and keep your rendezvous a secret. 
And maybe you like it this way because you’re afraid. Because you’re worried that once he sees how odd the two of you look together, he won’t want you anymore. That the relentless teasing and comparisons will drive him to end things.
And you’ll be devastated.
Perhaps sensing where your mind has gone, Harry resumes his work on your throat, efficiently distracting you. You happily relinquish your overthinking to him and his intentions, and it feels good. You used to be scared of being touched, of being loved. But it’s becoming easier with him. A routine you wouldn’t trade for the world.
He begins to pull you toward his bed. It’s made for once, which you have to admit impresses you. Harry doesn’t tend to devote his time to things he doesn’t think matter. Like cleaning his space, taking notes, or worrying about his classes. Somehow, he manages to pass every semester, keeping his spot on the football team, while you struggle to keep up even with all the time in the world.
Half the time you suggest studying together, it’s because you’d actually like his help.
“Wait
wait, Har,” you murmur as he sits onto the mattress and begins to pull you in a straddle over his thighs. “Wait, not
not when you’ve been drinking—”
“Haven’t,” he exhales against your mouth. “S’just Sprite. Coach doesn’t let us drink before a game.”
Almost relieved, you lift a brow. “But he doesn’t mind a wild party?”
He smirks. “Technically, we’re not supposed to do that either. But
I kind of live here, so
”
“Ah.” You dip down and press your lips to his softly. “Then I guess you just don’t have a choice, huh?”
“Nope.” He moves his hands to your waist, subtly grinding your body over his until you both groan. “Besides. I’d much rather be here with you than down there with them.”
“Mm. That’s the right answer,” you tease as he laughs and slips his fingers under your dress. 
You know this dance by now. You even enjoy it when Harry’s at the lead. He knows what he’s doing, even if you don’t. And he knows just how to teach you. Show you. Guide you. 
You take a deep breath and let yourself submit. Let his hands roam, his thighs flex. Let his mouth travel down your neck and to the curve of your shoulder. He slips the strap down until he has more room and then he moves for your chest. Hungry kisses meant to devour you.
“My pretty girl,” he whispers, tongue licking a stripe along the top of your breast. “Wore this just to torture me, didn’t you?”
Your lashes flutter. “Thought
thought it would be easier.”
“Easier?” He glances up, smirk devious. “You wanted me to have easy access to your pretty pussy?”
The vulgar language brings a fervent heat right to your face. You glance away out of habit, but he doesn’t let you this time. Instead, he pinches your chin tight between his fingers and forces your attention back.
“Is that right, angel?” he asks again, firm.
You swallow. “
yes.”
“Mm. Good girl,” he mumbles before moving his hand to your tit. Squeezing it gently while wrapping his lips over your nipple. “Or maybe you’re my naughty girl tonight. Yeah? Wearing something so sinful. Just for me.”
You nod quickly as your nails scratch down his scalp. “Just for you.”
“Mhm. Not Zack.”
“No. No, not Zack.”
He simpers at the sound of your breathless whines. Enjoying the way your hips roll against his. The way your naked thighs feel against his clothed ones. “Gonna let me take care of you, baby? Let me have a little taste?”
Your stomach flips. Harry has introduced you to a world of pleasure you never knew possible, but you still can’t deny that it makes you feel vulnerable. The way your body is put on display for him. Accessible to his tongue, his hands, his

You close your eyes and force a nod. You just won’t think about it. You’ll let him have his taste and then he’ll start. You understand the science behind it. Your body needs to be properly lubricated before he can begin. And it’s not exactly a step you care to skip, even if it does make you nervous.
He grins at your reaction before he’s leaning back onto the bed and dragging you up toward his face, that bright red hat falling off in the process.
He’s mentioned this position before. Apparently, it’s his favorite, but it certainly isn’t one you’re used to. You don’t understand the mechanics. How you’re meant to surrender control but also keep from crushing his pretty face beneath your weight.
“Angel,” he calls, pulling you back. “What did I say last time, hm?”
“I
I know, I just
” You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you—”
“You won’t,” he promises yet again. “You can’t. I know what I’m doing, yeah? Trust me. Just let me do this, I’ve got you.”
And you know that he does. So, surrendering your inhibitions, you let him place you just where he wants before he nods at you to pull your underwear to the side.
You do. Fingers shaking as you drag the damp fabric away and present yourself to his tongue. You want to look away. Want to hide from the growing look of hunger in his eyes, but he’s already sucking on you before you can.
And once he starts
things don’t seem so bad.
His tongue is magic. His lips are divine. Even his hands are wonderful with the way they hold you still. 
You think you could spend a lifetime against his mouth. Live here, die here. Do anything and be anything he wanted so long as he never stopped.
“Doing so good for me, pretty girl,” he says after a moment, and you almost miss it over the faint thumping of music outside his room. “You okay?”
You nod, fingers back between his curls as you brace yourself. “Yes
yes, I’m
I’m all right. Am I
am I too—”
“No,” he says simply. “No, you’re perfect. Don’t move. M’having so much fun.”
And you don’t doubt that he is. His eyes are closed and he’s feasting on you like he’s been starved his whole life. His entire face is between your folds, licking, sucking, nipping. Wet sounds that are somehow louder than the noise outside. 
You can’t help the way you groan. The way you say his name and shake in his hands. It’s too much and you’re still unsure how to handle so much ecstasy.
But he knows. And he keeps you planted on his tongue until you’ve nearly soaked his entire face. And then
he stops. Seconds before you can find that sweet release and you gasp as he pops off and scoots you back.
“What
what did I do?” you pant.
He laughs while he sits up, cupping your cheek in his palm before pulling you forward for a kiss. “Nothing,” he whispers, and the taste of you on his lips makes your insides twist. “I told you, you’re perfect. I just have something else in mind.”
“Oh.” Your fingers twist together. “Do you
do you want me to
?”
He smiles again then shakes his head. “Not this time, pretty girl. You know I don’t always expect that, right? I don’t eat you out just so you’ll suck me off.”
“I
I know.”
“Good. I eat you out because I fucking love it.” Another kiss. “And not just to get you wet.”
You feel your features scrunch, the urge to hide much stronger. “I know.”
“And I don’t want you to forget. I love watching you take me down your throat, but only when and if you want to. Tonight, I thought we could maybe try something we haven’t yet.”
“Oh
”
His eyes settle on yours. “I want you to ride me.”
Your lips part. “You
oh.”
“We’ve talked about that before, yeah?” He sweeps his thumb across your cheek. “About if you think you’d be comfortable?”
“Yeah, we
yeah. I
I don’t mind. I just
I don’t know
”
“I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ll show you, hm? We can just try it and see how you feel. And if you don’t like it, we can do something else.”
It’s a good plan. A solid plan, and even if you’re unsure, you can’t help but feel excited. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats happily before scooting back toward the headboard. “All right, can you take me out, angel?”
Eagerly, you agree, crawling after him until your fingers find his jeans. Seeing such a massive dick always tends to surprise you, but you find that you feel more confident now than you did before. He’s beautiful, every inch of him. And he seems to love the way you touch him. The way you look at him, admire him.
And that’s your favorite part.
“Good girl,” he coos as you reach inside his boxers to wrap your palm around him. “Not so shy anymore, hm?”
You shake your head, lip between your teeth as you release him from his pants. 
He laughs. “I can see that. Can you give me your hand, pretty girl?”
You oblige and he pulls your palm to his mouth before he’s spitting directly in the center. A large wad that sits snugly in your hand before he drops it back down to his cock and nods at you to continue.
You drag the wet substance up and down his rather impressive length until he’s glistening. He’s already quite hard, but your delicate strokes seem to get him the rest of the way. Until he’s standing straight up and nearly leaking. 
“Good,” he says again, a tad breathless. “So fucking good at that, you know?”
You smile. “Practice makes perfect.”
“Mhm.” He chuckles. “Then can you show me how good you are at putting me in?”
You nod fervently. The academic overachiever in you is always anxious to prove yourself to him. To show that you’ve learned, you’ve improved. That you’re worthy of his time and his body. 
You use one hand to guide him and the other to keep your panties to the side. He, in turn, makes sure to lift your dress high enough that you can both see and the moment his tip makes contact with your throbbing clit, you whimper.
“Shh,” he murmurs. “You’re all right. Go ahead and tap it a couple times, yeah?”
Forcing your pulse to steady, you do. The heavy appendage seems to taunt you as you pat it against your pussy and the sensitive nerves that make your legs shake. But it feels like heaven and even Harry has to take in a labored breath as he watches.
The two of you rarely use condoms these days. You did when you first started, but after getting tested and being assured that you were the only person he was sleeping with, you decided to try just once without.
And you know the risks. Know it’s rather idiotic to tempt fate the way you do. The pill isn’t a guarantee, and you know neither one of you are ready to be parents.
But after feeling him
feeling all of him
you became addicted. Despite your better judgement, you found yourself eager to feel him again. And again. And again. 
And now, well
now you don’t think you can go without.
“There you go,” he sighs. “Just like that. S’it feel good?”
“Mm
mhm.”
“Good. Go on, baby, put me in now.”
With his help, you lift up and guide his large head toward your hole. Slowly pushing it in while dropping yourself down.
“Fuck,” he exhales through a groan. “Shit, just like that. You okay? S’it hurt?”
You shake your head. You don’t have the strength to speak.
“Okay. Keep going.”
You do. A steady pace that seems to torture you both until the whines and cries slip out before you can stop them. 
“Goddamn, angel,” he grits. “Shit, you feel so fucking good. You still all right? Know what to say if you’re not?”
“Ye—yeah.”
“Attagirl. Okay, baby, I want you to lift up now, yeah? Nice and slow.”
Doing your best not to tremble, you raise back up and feel the way his thick cock seems to stretch you open. The way it travels through your body, making you feel empty without it. 
And once you’re near the tip, he pulls you back down, and you start again. 
The speed is tediously languid. It almost hurts and the noises tumble from your lips one after the other without pause.
Your thighs burn. Your core burns. Every inch of you seems to be screaming, yet Harry doesn’t break a sweat.
“Doing so good,” he praises again. He pulls at your jaw until you kiss him. “Know it’s hard, but you look so good riding my cock right now.”
You only mewl. Loud and incoherent. 
He releases your cheek to reach for something on the nightstand beside him. Something you don’t see through your hazed vision until he begins to unwrap it and bring it to your mouth.
His bandana.
It’s his favorite one, too. The white one, with little back details on it. But you aren’t exactly sure what he expects you to do with it now
until he smirks.
“M’gonna put this in your mouth,” he says before resting it on your lips. “Gotta keep you quiet since I didn’t lock the door. Don’t want anyone to hear you and come lookin’, hm?”
Your eyes widen as you gape at him. “Harry—”
“Sorry. S’just too distracted.” He grins. “Open up, pretty girl.”
Rather excitedly, you obey. Giving him just enough room to slip the fabric between your teeth until you can clamp down and he can fasten it in a knot against the back of your head.
“There you go,” he declares when he’s through. “Now you can be as loud as you want, yeah?”
You nod.
“Mm.” He dips down to start kissing at your chest. “Can you keep going, baby? Or do you need me to take over?”
Your lashes flutter.
“I know,” he coos when he sees the fucked-out expression on your face. “S’hard, isn’t it? My angel’s getting tired, huh?”
Another nod, slower.
“Okay,” he chuckles. He grabs onto your hips and straightens up. “Okay, I’ll fuck you.”
Just like that, he resumes the pace you set. Using every muscle in his thighs and abdomen to fuck his cock up into you and leave you a wilting, blubbering mess.
The poor bandana becomes soaked as he pounds into you. Faster and faster while your body shakes and drool pools at the sides of your mouth. 
Your whimpers sound shuddered now. In tune with his fast thrusts and the wet, lewd cacophony of your bodies connecting. Pornographic in nature yet somehow
euphoric. 
He sucks your tit back into his mouth and you clutch onto his scalp. Nails scratching at his neck, shoulders, and chest until you feel your orgasm coming up on you once more. 
And he feels it, too. Features twisting at the way you clench around him. The way your body draws him in, treats him right. He’s obsessed and he’s told you as much. Even with the level of stamina he possesses, he can never seem to last all that long when it comes to you.
“Fucking hell,” he groans before he’s tightening his hold on your waist. “Shit, s’it feel good? Like being on top, angel?”
You nod and press your forehead to his. Even if it’s rather exhausting, you can feel him in places you couldn’t before. Nudging against your g-spot until you see stars and have to physically fight the urge to cum. 
“No, don’t,” he pants, seeming to sense it. “Want you to cum. Right now, baby. Okay? Let me feel you first.”
Even if you wanted to argue, you can’t. The low, graveled instruction goes straight to your cunt and you cum before you can stop yourself. Drenching his cock, his thighs, your thighs. You sway, go limp in his hold. Until you’re slumping against his chest as he fucks you through every second of it.
“There,” he praises, large hand rubbing up and down your back. “God, you’re fucking good at that. Love the way you cum for me. S’fucking heaven.”
You know he’s close. And you know he won’t finish inside you, instead wasting his offering on his stomach or somewhere else.
So, you get an idea. You pull off him as best you can while he hisses and resists the temptation to release inside you before you slip the bandana back out and crawl down his lap.
Then, you take him in your mouth. It only takes two sucks before he’s grabbing at your neck and finishing down your throat. The warm, sticky substance familiar and far too thrilling. 
He cums and he cums until you’ve nearly sucked him dry and his tired body melts into the bed.
He whispers your name and fights to keep his eyes open so he can gaze at you. Then, he tugs on you. “Come here.”
He kisses you. Tongue and teeth clashing in a messy exchange, but he doesn’t mind. He loves it. Moans into your mouth and pulls you against his heart until you can both catch your breath.
You revel in the post-orgasm glow. Body’s abuzz and slightly sweaty from the workout. But you wouldn’t trade this ache in your joints for anything. 
And you realize you wouldn’t trade him, either. 
“You okay?” he murmurs after a moment.
You hum. “Yeah. M’tired.”
“Yeah,” he echoes with a gentle laugh. “It was fun, though, right?”
“Mhm. Very.”
“Think you’ll wanna do it again?”
“Maybe,” you admit. “As long as you do all the work again.”
His laugh is louder this time. “Deal. Or maybe we’ll just have to work out your muscles until you can do it all on your own.”
“Mm
unlikely.”
“But maybe.”
“Maybe not.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Might hurt.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He smiles. “Can you stay tonight?”
“I don’t know. Jess might be looking for me.”
“Tell her you’re staying.”
“I can’t.”
“You don’t have to tell her who you’re with.”
“H,” you sigh. “She thinks I’m a virgin prude. If she knows I’m staying, she won’t let it go until she finds out who I stayed with.”
The room falls silent. You feel him sigh. “Yeah, I know.”
You glance up. “I’ll tell her one of these days, I promise. I just
I wanna keep you to myself. Just a little longer.”
His grin splits his face. “Good. Think I might wanna keep you, too.”
He kisses you again. Soft, slow, sensual. Filled with all the words neither of you are brave enough to say out loud. And long enough to leave you breathless.
Until the door opens.
And Zack walks in.
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God I love fratrry 😭💞
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avatar-anna · 15 days
Text
Save a Horse...
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2024 Masterlist
"Reading anything interesting?" Harry asked as he entered the den, your favorite place to read.
Holding your Kindle to your chest, you said, "Uh, I guess. I only just started it, so."
Harry raised a brow skeptically as he sat in the loveseat across from the bay window where you sat. "Really?" he asked. "You've been in here a while."
"I—I got stuck on my phone for a while," you said. "You know how it is."
"Hm."
Not saying anything else, Harry picked up his own book and opened it. You watched him for a moment, brows furrowed. As far as you were concerned, he was working all afternoon. You didn't typically mind, you took the quiet afternoons to run errands, tend to your garden outside, try out new recipes, and read.
Most of the time, you read. Harry had always known you to be a bookworm, the first time you met you had a novel in your hand and one in the bag over your shoulder. Books were how you communicated—gifts just because, as a form of apology, ones you thought you might enjoy together, which rarely ever happened. You left them in places for Harry to find like his guitar case or his carry on when he left for tour, and he put novels in different purses of yours or among the stacks on your bookshelf to see if you'd notice the new addition.
It was safe to say that both of you loved to read, but quiet afternoons like this were typically ones you enjoyed alone, specifically so Harry wouldn't see you blush or question what it was you were blushing at.
You glanced down at your Kindle, at the paragraph you left off on. "Jack shoved Delilah against the barn's door before ripping her blouse wide open to reveal her bare chest. Buttons scattered against the floor, but Delilah didn't care, not when Jack kissed a searing path toward her—"
"You know what? I think I'm gonna start on dinner," you said, clicking your Kindle shut before standing up.
Looking at your boyfriend was the wrong move. Harry lay stretched out on the loveseat, his shorts riding up on his thighs revealing more of his toned legs than you would've liked. That wasn't the first...steamy scene in your book, and let's just say looking at your very sexy boyfriend wasn't curbing the feeling of need coursing through your veins.
Harry definitely wouldn't have been opposed if you crawled into his lap right now, but he'd ask questions, questions that were too embarrassing to answer.
"Dinner?" he asked, setting his book down in his lap. His reading glasses, which had been perched high on the bridge of his nose, slid down, his hair adorably rumpled. If you hadn't known he'd been in his home studio all day today, you would've guessed he'd just rolled out of bed. "It's one o'clock, baby."
"Or nap," you said, hating how skittish you sounded. "Maybe take a nap. I don't know, I'm not really feeling like reading right now."
"Well, that's a first," Harry said, his voice slightly teasing. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing!" you insisted, though you answered a little too hastily, and your voice might've been higher than usual. Scratching the back of your neck, you tried to quell your heartbeat. "Nothing. Why—Why would you ask that?"
"Because you're acting...strange," Harry concluded. A small smile flickered at the corner of his mouth as he looked you up and down. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the book you're reading on that thing, would it?"
He nodded toward the Kindle in your hands with a raised brow. It was a little too pointed, as if he knew exactly what you kept on it. You and Harry both enjoyed the feel of a physical book in your hands, but you had an e-reader too. For convenience, you told Harry. And it was convenient. Your Kindle was light, you could carry a library in your purse and it barely weighed a pound, and it conveniently hid your most scandalous book titles.
"N—No," you said, fighting the urge to hide your Kindle behind your back, or chuck it across the room until it broke and was unusable. "Like—Like I said, I'm just not in the mood to read."
"Okay, I'll join you then. I'm a little tired myself."
Harry stood up and stretched his arms high above his head, his t-shirt rising with him. Your eyes zeroed in on the sliver of skin that revealed itself. Tan, tattooed skin, taught with muscle, a light trail of hair that led into the waistband of his briefs. Your cheeks were already flaming red from the situation at hand, but seeing his skin, seeing Harry be...Harry without even trying was too much. You thought you might combust.
"Why?" It was a stupid question, one you knew Harry saw right through.
"Why are you so eager to not hang out with me?" he asked back, his eyes narrowing. "And what's got you so flustered today? Has Jack ravished Delilah again?"
"Wh—What?"
Harry smirked at you, his eyes filled with mischief as he nodded at the e-reader in your hands. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know what you keep on there."
What? "Since when? And how—how do you know about—"
"You fell asleep reading last night," Harry explained. "And the Kindle was still on. I mean, I've always had my suspicions because you're always blushing when you've got that thing in your hands, but I got curious."
"I—You—You snooped—"
"I'm sorry, baby. I wouldn't have looked if I knew you'd be upset about it," he said, stepping closer. "But you shouldn't be. Nothing to be embarrassed about here."
You looked down at the socks on your feet instead of Harry coming closer to you. He said there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but you couldn't help but feel it creeping along your skin. You didn't do anything wrong, but you felt dirty for some reason, like you'd gotten caught doing something you knew you shouldn't have.
Crossing your arms across your chest, you said, "So, are you going to tease me about it or what?"
"Nothing to tease about, baby. I already told you that. I just didn't realize you had a thing for cowboys, that's all."
You huffed. You knew you weren't getting off that easy. "Shut up."
"No really," Harry said. You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice. "I wish you'd told me sooner. I would've gotten a hat, gotten the right jeans. Is that why you're into that show now? The one with all the cowboys and horseback riding and—"
"Alright, alright. I get it," you said, finally looking at him. Looking up at him, more like. Harry was practically toe to toe with you, his hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You know what? I'm taking me and my Kindle upstairs and I'm going to finish reading Jack—what did you call it?—ravish Delilah."
Harry let you stomp away in a huff, chuckling at your back as you left the den. Going up to the bedroom you shared with Harry, you settled on the bed and turned your Kindle back on.
Your eyes flitted across the screen, tracking over each word but not really reading them. You wanted to lose yourself in the story, in the scene laid out before you, but you couldn't.
"So, is it the hats that do it for you? Or the accents?"
Rolling your eyes, you tossed your Kindle to the side. Harry leaned against the doorframe, his eyes still holding that mirth in them. Narrowing your eyes at him, you said, "The ruggedness, I think. There's something so...manly about a guy on a horse and doing honest work, manual labor. Know what I mean?"
His nose wrinkled as he laughed. "Ha ha. I think I'm gonna have to download some other kinds of novels on there. Ones about rockstars falling for their fans, maybe?"
Harry began crawling onto the bed toward you, only stopping when you pressed a foot to his chest. "Really?"
"Definitely more rooted in reality than your wrangler fantasies," he said, then turned his head to the side. Pushing back your yoga pants, Harr pressed a tiny kiss to your ankle, then worked his way up your leg, toward the back of your knee. "Take these off, baby. And pick up that book of yours too."
You didn't need to be told twice about ditching your pants, but the book part made you pause. "Why the book? You were teasing me about it not even a minute ago."
"I am going to make sure you enjoy it," Harry said, though it sounded more like a promise.
Excitement flipped in your belly, your cheeks flushed with anticipation. "Yeah? Maybe next time I'll get you a cowboy hat."
Harry raised his brows, a crooked smile inching up his face. "I could get behind that. Now don't make me ask you again, baby."
Harry tugged on your ankle until you lay flat against the mattress with a squeak. "I'm going, I'm going!" you cried with an excited giggle, shoving your yoga pants down and wriggling out of them. Harry's hands, which were calloused from years of playing the guitar were rough against your skin, but it sent a lick of curling heat down your spine.
"The book, baby. Go on."
Your lips pursed as you looked at Harry. His lips were wet from where he'd swiped his tongue over them, the pads of his fingers trailing up and down the skin of your inner thighs. The light stubble of his cheeks scratched your skin, but it didn't hurt, it felt thrilling as he looked up at you through his lashes, green eyes glinting with promise.
Keeping eye contact, you reached for the abandoned Kindle, clicking it on and looking down at where you left off. Harry continued to lean against your thigh, stroking his thumb up and down while you settled against the bed. Nothing for one page, then more nothing, then he began to prop your leg up, then the other.
"Jack flipped Delilah over, his hands splaying across her bare back until they found purchase in the tresses of her dark red hair. 'Come on,' Delilah panted, already breathless from the mere anticipation of him filling her. It hadn't been long since they last fucked, but it felt like an age. She needed it more than she cared to admit. Badly enough that she was willing to do it in a dusty old barn. 'What are you waiting for—' 'Maybe I should put it in your mouth instead. That'll shut you up—"
"Oh." You gasped, pleasure tingling through your whole body.
"Is that me or Jack?" Harry asked, his voice vibrating through you, nose nudging against you in a way that had your toes curling.
"Jack," you teased, then arced your back against the bed with a groan.
"Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me," he said before parting your legs further. "Keep going. Don't put it down until I tell you."
"But—Ow!"
Harry kissed the juncture of your thigh, right where he'd pinched it. "Keep going," he repeated.
"Rude," you muttered but picked the e-reader nonetheless.
When you continued, so did Harry. It was hard to keep focus. Not when teased with his nose, or when he expertly worked you over with his tongue, especially not when he thrust his fingers inside you relentlessly. Still, you waited, still you read, waiting for Harry to tell you you could stop.
You were two orgasms in when he finally looked up, chin glistening and evil smirk shining as he glanced up at you. "I think that was all me, don't you?"
"Shut up and fuck me," you said airily, breaths still falling heavily. Giggling, you continued. "That I got from Delilah."
Harry crept up the bed until his face was level with you. His nose against yours before kissing it. "Tell me more."
"I could tell you," you said with a grin that matched Harry's. Reaching for the waistband of his shorts and briefs, you began to tug. "But I think we'd both have more fun if I showed you."
Harry leaned onto his back and rested his arms above his head, settling back with a grin as you climbed on top of him. His eyes rolled back blissfully to a single roll of your hips before they settled back on you.
"Show me then, baby."
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avatar-anna · 16 days
Text
Save a Horse...
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2024 Masterlist
"Reading anything interesting?" Harry asked as he entered the den, your favorite place to read.
Holding your Kindle to your chest, you said, "Uh, I guess. I only just started it, so."
Harry raised a brow skeptically as he sat in the loveseat across from the bay window where you sat. "Really?" he asked. "You've been in here a while."
"I—I got stuck on my phone for a while," you said. "You know how it is."
"Hm."
Not saying anything else, Harry picked up his own book and opened it. You watched him for a moment, brows furrowed. As far as you were concerned, he was working all afternoon. You didn't typically mind, you took the quiet afternoons to run errands, tend to your garden outside, try out new recipes, and read.
Most of the time, you read. Harry had always known you to be a bookworm, the first time you met you had a novel in your hand and one in the bag over your shoulder. Books were how you communicated—gifts just because, as a form of apology, ones you thought you might enjoy together, which rarely ever happened. You left them in places for Harry to find like his guitar case or his carry on when he left for tour, and he put novels in different purses of yours or among the stacks on your bookshelf to see if you'd notice the new addition.
It was safe to say that both of you loved to read, but quiet afternoons like this were typically ones you enjoyed alone, specifically so Harry wouldn't see you blush or question what it was you were blushing at.
You glanced down at your Kindle, at the paragraph you left off on. "Jack shoved Delilah against the barn's door before ripping her blouse wide open to reveal her bare chest. Buttons scattered against the floor, but Delilah didn't care, not when Jack kissed a searing path toward her—"
"You know what? I think I'm gonna start on dinner," you said, clicking your Kindle shut before standing up.
Looking at your boyfriend was the wrong move. Harry lay stretched out on the loveseat, his shorts riding up on his thighs revealing more of his toned legs than you would've liked. That wasn't the first...steamy scene in your book, and let's just say looking at your very sexy boyfriend wasn't curbing the feeling of need coursing through your veins.
Harry definitely wouldn't have been opposed if you crawled into his lap right now, but he'd ask questions, questions that were too embarrassing to answer.
"Dinner?" he asked, setting his book down in his lap. His reading glasses, which had been perched high on the bridge of his nose, slid down, his hair adorably rumpled. If you hadn't known he'd been in his home studio all day today, you would've guessed he'd just rolled out of bed. "It's one o'clock, baby."
"Or nap," you said, hating how skittish you sounded. "Maybe take a nap. I don't know, I'm not really feeling like reading right now."
"Well, that's a first," Harry said, his voice slightly teasing. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing!" you insisted, though you answered a little too hastily, and your voice might've been higher than usual. Scratching the back of your neck, you tried to quell your heartbeat. "Nothing. Why—Why would you ask that?"
"Because you're acting...strange," Harry concluded. A small smile flickered at the corner of his mouth as he looked you up and down. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the book you're reading on that thing, would it?"
He nodded toward the Kindle in your hands with a raised brow. It was a little too pointed, as if he knew exactly what you kept on it. You and Harry both enjoyed the feel of a physical book in your hands, but you had an e-reader too. For convenience, you told Harry. And it was convenient. Your Kindle was light, you could carry a library in your purse and it barely weighed a pound, and it conveniently hid your most scandalous book titles.
"N—No," you said, fighting the urge to hide your Kindle behind your back, or chuck it across the room until it broke and was unusable. "Like—Like I said, I'm just not in the mood to read."
"Okay, I'll join you then. I'm a little tired myself."
Harry stood up and stretched his arms high above his head, his t-shirt rising with him. Your eyes zeroed in on the sliver of skin that revealed itself. Tan, tattooed skin, taught with muscle, a light trail of hair that led into the waistband of his briefs. Your cheeks were already flaming red from the situation at hand, but seeing his skin, seeing Harry be...Harry without even trying was too much. You thought you might combust.
"Why?" It was a stupid question, one you knew Harry saw right through.
"Why are you so eager to not hang out with me?" he asked back, his eyes narrowing. "And what's got you so flustered today? Has Jack ravished Delilah again?"
"Wh—What?"
Harry smirked at you, his eyes filled with mischief as he nodded at the e-reader in your hands. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know what you keep on there."
What? "Since when? And how—how do you know about—"
"You fell asleep reading last night," Harry explained. "And the Kindle was still on. I mean, I've always had my suspicions because you're always blushing when you've got that thing in your hands, but I got curious."
"I—You—You snooped—"
"I'm sorry, baby. I wouldn't have looked if I knew you'd be upset about it," he said, stepping closer. "But you shouldn't be. Nothing to be embarrassed about here."
You looked down at the socks on your feet instead of Harry coming closer to you. He said there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but you couldn't help but feel it creeping along your skin. You didn't do anything wrong, but you felt dirty for some reason, like you'd gotten caught doing something you knew you shouldn't have.
Crossing your arms across your chest, you said, "So, are you going to tease me about it or what?"
"Nothing to tease about, baby. I already told you that. I just didn't realize you had a thing for cowboys, that's all."
You huffed. You knew you weren't getting off that easy. "Shut up."
"No really," Harry said. You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice. "I wish you'd told me sooner. I would've gotten a hat, gotten the right jeans. Is that why you're into that show now? The one with all the cowboys and horseback riding and—"
"Alright, alright. I get it," you said, finally looking at him. Looking up at him, more like. Harry was practically toe to toe with you, his hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You know what? I'm taking me and my Kindle upstairs and I'm going to finish reading Jack—what did you call it?—ravish Delilah."
Harry let you stomp away in a huff, chuckling at your back as you left the den. Going up to the bedroom you shared with Harry, you settled on the bed and turned your Kindle back on.
Your eyes flitted across the screen, tracking over each word but not really reading them. You wanted to lose yourself in the story, in the scene laid out before you, but you couldn't.
"So, is it the hats that do it for you? Or the accents?"
Rolling your eyes, you tossed your Kindle to the side. Harry leaned against the doorframe, his eyes still holding that mirth in them. Narrowing your eyes at him, you said, "The ruggedness, I think. There's something so...manly about a guy on a horse and doing honest work, manual labor. Know what I mean?"
His nose wrinkled as he laughed. "Ha ha. I think I'm gonna have to download some other kinds of novels on there. Ones about rockstars falling for their fans, maybe?"
Harry began crawling onto the bed toward you, only stopping when you pressed a foot to his chest. "Really?"
"Definitely more rooted in reality than your wrangler fantasies," he said, then turned his head to the side. Pushing back your yoga pants, Harr pressed a tiny kiss to your ankle, then worked his way up your leg, toward the back of your knee. "Take these off, baby. And pick up that book of yours too."
You didn't need to be told twice about ditching your pants, but the book part made you pause. "Why the book? You were teasing me about it not even a minute ago."
"I am going to make sure you enjoy it," Harry said, though it sounded more like a promise.
Excitement flipped in your belly, your cheeks flushed with anticipation. "Yeah? Maybe next time I'll get you a cowboy hat."
Harry raised his brows, a crooked smile inching up his face. "I could get behind that. Now don't make me ask you again, baby."
Harry tugged on your ankle until you lay flat against the mattress with a squeak. "I'm going, I'm going!" you cried with an excited giggle, shoving your yoga pants down and wriggling out of them. Harry's hands, which were calloused from years of playing the guitar were rough against your skin, but it sent a lick of curling heat down your spine.
"The book, baby. Go on."
Your lips pursed as you looked at Harry. His lips were wet from where he'd swiped his tongue over them, the pads of his fingers trailing up and down the skin of your inner thighs. The light stubble of his cheeks scratched your skin, but it didn't hurt, it felt thrilling as he looked up at you through his lashes, green eyes glinting with promise.
Keeping eye contact, you reached for the abandoned Kindle, clicking it on and looking down at where you left off. Harry continued to lean against your thigh, stroking his thumb up and down while you settled against the bed. Nothing for one page, then more nothing, then he began to prop your leg up, then the other.
"Jack flipped Delilah over, his hands splaying across her bare back until they found purchase in the tresses of her dark red hair. 'Come on,' Delilah panted, already breathless from the mere anticipation of him filling her. It hadn't been long since they last fucked, but it felt like an age. She needed it more than she cared to admit. Badly enough that she was willing to do it in a dusty old barn. 'What are you waiting for—' 'Maybe I should put it in your mouth instead. That'll shut you up—"
"Oh." You gasped, pleasure tingling through your whole body.
"Is that me or Jack?" Harry asked, his voice vibrating through you, nose nudging against you in a way that had your toes curling.
"Jack," you teased, then arced your back against the bed with a groan.
"Sounds like I've got my work cut out for me," he said before parting your legs further. "Keep going. Don't put it down until I tell you."
"But—Ow!"
Harry kissed the juncture of your thigh, right where he'd pinched it. "Keep going," he repeated.
"Rude," you muttered but picked the e-reader nonetheless.
When you continued, so did Harry. It was hard to keep focus. Not when teased with his nose, or when he expertly worked you over with his tongue, especially not when he thrust his fingers inside you relentlessly. Still, you waited, still you read, waiting for Harry to tell you you could stop.
You were two orgasms in when he finally looked up, chin glistening and evil smirk shining as he glanced up at you. "I think that was all me, don't you?"
"Shut up and fuck me," you said airily, breaths still falling heavily. Giggling, you continued. "That I got from Delilah."
Harry crept up the bed until his face was level with you. His nose against yours before kissing it. "Tell me more."
"I could tell you," you said with a grin that matched Harry's. Reaching for the waistband of his shorts and briefs, you began to tug. "But I think we'd both have more fun if I showed you."
Harry leaned onto his back and rested his arms above his head, settling back with a grin as you climbed on top of him. His eyes rolled back blissfully to a single roll of your hips before they settled back on you.
"Show me then, baby."
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