being mr. azoff's assistant was y/n's dream job, it was just a bummer that his most beloved client seemed to hate her.
"Did you want anything, Harry? (Y/N)'s about to make a coffee run."
Although she'd never admit it, (Y/N) held her breath as she fiddled her fingers behind her back, awaiting any response. She already had a good idea of what he would say when he bothered to give an answer, but she still had a tiny hope he'd prove her wrong.
"No, 'm alright."
He didn't even raise his head from where it was buried in his phone. Mr. Azoff gave (Y/N) that same polite smile he always did whenever Mr. Styles rejected her services, like he wasn't sure why Mr. Styles wasn't more accepting but it wasn't his place to ask or change the habit. Mr. Azoff treated her right and that was what she tried to focus on, not that the fact his best friend and someone she could consider to be a creative idol, couldn't seem to even give her a moment of his time.
"Okay, I'll be back in a minute, Mr. Azoff," (Y/N) chirped pleasantly, well versed in how to brush off being brushed off.
(Y/N) was grateful for the fact her boss's preferred shop was only a few blocks away from his office, giving her the chance to clear her head with fresh (or as fresh as it could be here in L.A.) air instead of stuffing herself into her car.
Mr. Styles was always like this. Why it still bothered her when he brushed her off or ignored any of her offers of help, she wasn't sure, but it did. That world famous kindness that circulated within the industry as well as what was flung around Twitter had been what she was expecting when she finally made it through the vetting process to be hired as Jeff Azoff's assistant, knowing full well who one of his biggest clients was. She had been realistic, knowing that Harry Styles wasn't going to be her best friend, fawning over her at all times, or suddenly fall in love—this wasn't like those stories she remembers reading when she was young—but she had figured he would give her more than a passing glance the first time she met him.
Since that first day where he offered a single sentence introduction, she'd been waiting in vain for anything more to happen. More often than not, his conversation would stop when she entered the room or go quiet enough to let her know she wasn't to be included. He gave her plain smiles, not even the hint of a dimple, when he bothered to acknowledge her presence, usually when he would skirt around her to leave the room she'd just entered. She never got a chance to experience firsthand the humor everyone praised, the kindness he all but trademarked as a middle name, or the gentle vulnerability he gave to those who needed it. He could barely even meet her eyes, his gaze moving to his phone or where he plucked at his sleeves or painted nails.
To be fair, she was still fairly new at the job, only about six months in to her position, so there was a good chance he still needed some warming up after being so used to Mr. Azoff's last assistant that had been employed for years before relocating and leaving the position. Mr. Styles was also known to be shy, something a few others had disclosed to her when they noticed she didn't have much to add whenever he was brought up. Maybe he needed a little more time, and that was something she was more than willing to give, along with the space it seemed he needed.
At least until his European tour started. Then, he would have to at least get used to her presence, seeing as they were to be sanctioned to matching flights, hotels, and backstage areas for the better part of the next three months. She wouldn't be able to give him much space then. Hopefully he wouldn't hate her more after those ninety days together.
As much as the walk to the cafe and the extra Matcha latte she treated herself with, cleared her head and had her back on her feet after being blown back by the nonchalance paid to her entire existence by someone she felt singled out by, the effect could only last for so long when she entered the office.
Before pushing the door open, she could hear the voices inside happily chattering away. Mr. Styles' cackling laugh that she was sure had his eyes creasing closed with his head thrown back was the most prevalent noise, something she usually only caught the tail end. As she expected, the second she gave a gentle rapping of her knuckles against the door just before pushing it open, all sound stopped, even Mr. Azoff's chattering trailing off once he realized Mr. Styles was done interacting for the moment.
"Here you go," she chirped, passing along the coffee to her boss with an unbothered smile that was much stronger than she felt, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, no," he shook his head, "Not until this afternoon. Go and enjoy your lunch, (Y/N)."
She gave a quiet nod of her head, chancing a single look in Mr. Styles' direction. He had his gaze fixed on his hands. A flush clung to his skin, surely a lingering effect of the laughter she had interrupted.
"Okay, let me know if that changes," she offered with a short smile before turning on her heel.
Just as she left the room, closing the door behind her, she heard Mr. Azoff heave a muffled sigh on the other side.
"Jeff, please. She jus'—"
(Y/N) left before she could hear much more. She didn't need to know what Mr. Styles thought about her.
Despite the buzz filling the terminal, (Y/N) almost couldn't believe the way not a single person had noted Mr. Styles' presence. Not even a single muttering or whisper of his name could be heard in the busy place.
He sat in peace, a grey hoodie with the strings tied covered his torso, hood up over a pink beanie that concealed his curls. He sat with his legs spread wide, taking up space with his black sweats folded over his legs. Scrolling through his phone, he was in his own world with his chin propped up in his hand, cheek smushed against his ring-bare fingers. He only looked up when boarding was called.
(Y/N) followed quietly behind the trio of Mr. Styles, her boss, and Mr. Lambert, the tour's stylist. She could hear the tittering and quiet conversation in front of her while other members of production and the team trailed behind her. Without Mr. Azoff's wife joining them just yet for this tour, she didn't have many close friends within this group for the time being.
It was all a blur, finding her seat on the plane and placing her carryon above. She was the first in her row, huddling close to the window seat. She knew Mr. Azoff was going to join her as soon as he finished doing whatever it was he and the Harry's were doing, so at least she wasn't going to be completely alone.
Biding her time until take off while the rest of the plane filled up, (Y/N) distracted herself with answering emails on Mr. Azoff's behalf. She verified hotel arrangements, replied to all the correspondence that went along with Mrs. Azoff joining them later in the week, and anything else that needed her attention before takeoff.
Huddled into her corner of the row, the early call time for the flight began to catch up with her. The emails in front of her couldn't hold her attention against the tiny pillow she had managed to sneak into the backpack she shoved under her seat, the plush sandwiched between her cheek and the sidewall of the plane. The sound of shuffling feet as the rest of the flight filled up was like white noise to her cloud-puffed brain.
(Y/N) couldn't help herself before she was fluttering her eyes closed. Surely, Mr. Azoff would wake her before takeoff if she really passed out.
She wasn't sure how long she sat, resting her eyes with her limbs floating in the in-between realm before much of the shuffling ceased and the heft of someone settling in beside her sounded in the empty space. She didn't bother blinking her eyes open, even when she heard chattering beside her. Mr. Azoff was one of the voices, followed by someone who sounded a little too close to her for his comfort.
"Jeffery..." Mr. Styles sighed.
"Stop acting like a child, H," her boss scolded, voice stern though he was quiet, "She's asleep, I'm not going to make you talk to her."
(Y/N) was grateful for the way she had her cheeks mushed between her shoulder and her fluffed pillow. Maybe if she covered them, her seat mates wouldn't be able to feel the embarrassed heat gathering under her skin.
Mr. Styles was sitting right next to her, she realized when she heard the heavy intake of a breath leave his lungs. She wasn't sure how she'd do it, but it looked like she was going to have to pretend to be asleep all the way to the hotel. Maybe, she could convince everyone she was a very well-organized and direction-following sleepwalker if she was careful.
That thought didn't last long, (Y/N) having to break her facade at the sound of Mr. Azoff's voice calling to her.
"(Y/N)," he started, speaking around Mr. Styles. He repeated her name a couple of more times, prompting her to mime opening her eyes as if she'd been dead asleep only moments prior before he continued, "We're about to take off."
"Oh," she smiled, the curve tight, "Thank you."
If not for the fact she was sure she would die if they knew she had overheard the way Mr. Styles couldn't stand to even sit next to her, she would have hesitated more before she crossed her gaze to the man beside her. His eyes were already on her when she looked at him, expression tight as he seemingly forced a smile in her direction. His back was stiff against the seat, hands twisted in his lap with flaking nail polish. His gaze didn't linger on her for very long before he looked away, just in time for the safety spiel from the steward team.
Following suit, she followed through the motions of checking her seatbelt, absently locating the exits, and curling into her seat by the time they were cleared for takeoff. She didn't like this part, but it was enough to huddle herself against the back of her seat and brace herself with her hands clenched into the armrest to her right side.
She sat with her eyes closed, nails digging into the leather of the armrest as she felt the motion beneath her feet, the runway disappearing underneath them until the turbulence of takeoff shook the body of the plane. (Y/N) breathed her way through it, hunkering down into the slouchy fit of her hoodie.
It wasn't until the turbulence evened out, steady windfall starting in the dark of the early morning, that she felt eyes on her. Without really thinking, she blinked her eyes open only to find Mr. Styles looking to her with something softer painted over his features.
He didn't immediately flit away when her eyes met his, allowing himself to touch over her features with the warmth of his gaze. His tanned skin still held a buttery warmth even under the draining overhead lights of the cabin, stubble covering the bottom half of his face she'd never seen him grow out until recently. His eye contact was famous around the world, unrelenting though welcoming as it gave her a chance to see the flecks and streaks through the moss of his irises. (Y/N) floundered under his attention, unsure of what to do with something she doesn't think she's ever had before.
"Um—Did—Or, do you want m-my pillow?" she asked, blindly reaching for the little plush fit between her body and the sidewall.
At the sound of her voice, Mr. Styles seemed to realize what exactly he was doing and who he was glazing over with his eyes. He shook his head then, curls peeking out from underneath his beanie.
"No, thank you," he mumbled, reaching into his hoodie pocket to pull out a pair of headphones.
That was all his attention that she was granted until his headphones were plugged into his ears and she was alone again in her row.
"And finally, on drums, Sarah Jones!"
(Y/N) was blown away as the area erupted into cheers she was sure could rival the screams that sounded when Mr. Styles first appeared on stage. She watched on from the mouth of the backstage area, her boss at her side with a drink in hand, as Mr. Styles reveled in the screaming and yelling, a bright dimpled smile on his face. If not for the fact she was technically there in a professional sense and this was only the second show she'd had the privilege of watching, she would have joined in and screamed and cheered for the band that was being introduced. (After getting a chance to meet every moving part of his touring band as well as watching them perform, she very much so understood the enthusiasm offered to these characters).
It was when Mr. Styles joined in on the fanfare, pumping his fist and making a noise that sounded like he was barking along with the crowd that she couldn't hold back her laughter. The layered fringe hanging from his jacket glittered in the light, matching the sheen of sweat that covered his shirtless body. He threw his head back with a bright laugh she almost wished he had the microphone held to his mouth for, just so she could hear what his joy sounded like.
Even just this moment alone was something she was sure she was always going to remember, no matter how many times she was going to witness this over and over. Never had she been to a concert that held the same energy as these arenas—and eventually stadiums—she'd visited. She couldn't blame a single person in this room for everything they did to get to this place, every moment of planning, saving, celebrating, and crying. She understood.
Mr. Styles was meant to perform. Even with his brief breaks he spent on movie sets, it was clear why he came back to this space with these people that followed him like honeybees and gave so much love and kindness to him.
She watched as he finished his introductions of the band, launching into another song that had the whole arena moving and dancing. Even without the help of the spotlight and the cameras following his every move, she was sure she wouldn't be able to keep her eyes from him; he commanded the space, with every intention of taking that attention and thriving under it.
Despite the relationship—or lack there of—off stage, (Y/N) couldn't wait to see this almost every night for however many months she had the privilege of standing stage side.
"Call me if you need anything!"
Mr. Azoff shook off (Y/N)'s offer as she started off in the direction of the green room being used as the catering space for the day. A busy morning had ensued, leaving (Y/N) running around trying to find any trace of an adequate wifi connection in the middle of the venue just so she could answer emails and show up to video meetings she was attending on Mr. Azoff's behalf. It wouldn't have been so bad if not for the time differences given the fact she was on a completely different continent than any business she was working with. The stress of it all had her beat before the morning had even touched into the double digits for the day, still with another handful of hours worth of work to get through.
Finally—finally—she had typed away at every email, fielded every phone call, and spaced out the following day's agenda given the lack of a performance crowding Mr. Azoff's schedule. Now, she could sit down and eat before shuttling back to the hotel for a nap—as long as she wasn't needed for anything else, of course.
The catering space wasn't as busy as she sure it had been an hour prior, only a few others lingering about. One of the few happened to be Mr. Styles.
A clip was holding his curls back, a plain t-shirt with a pair of basketball shorts covering his legs revealed he had just finished with a workout before he would shower off and get to his soundcheck. He had his phone in hand as he forked food into his mouth, that intense look on his face that she always seemed to catch on him. His brows were knitted heavily in the middle, shrouding the bright green of his eyes in the shadow of his brow with his jaw tight as he chewed down whatever he had picked over from the table.
(Y/N) flitted her eyes to the rest of the crew littering the space before she was caught by Mr. Styles who seemed to always somehow know when someone had spotted him, even with nothing more than a phone camera. The little whiteboard catering hung above the food table was filled out with the day's menu. The prettily curved words brought a bright smile to (Y/N)'s face when she spotted the forth item down the list.
The catering team's arancini was easily one of (Y/N)'s favorite things she's ever eaten, on this tour or otherwise. She didn't care that it wasn't more than some risotto rice left over from the night before's dinner, repurposed as to minimize waste and turned into a crunchy, cheesy ball with the perfect acidic marinara served alongside it. If she could, she would live off those little pieces by themselves. Hopefully, there were at least a few left for her to devour, even if they were a little cold at this point.
Readying her plate with a small serving of Caesar salad and the lemon baked salmon (Mr. Styles' favorite and top request from what she'd heard), (Y/N) worked down the line until she reached the covered basin that held the arancini she easily dreamt of at least five times since the first bite. Lifting the lid, the fresh scent of bright tomatoes and fragrant oregano filled her senses, the bite of the smell hitting her harder with her empty stomach.
Nothing hit quite as hard on her expectant tummy than the fact she realized only a second too late that there wasn't a single rice ball left in the warmer. A thin layer of remaining sauce was laid along the bottom, but nothing was dropped beside the mushed tomatoes.
Maybe she was being a little dramatic, but (Y/N) felt her shoulders drop at the sight of the empty container. To be fair, she was almost two hours late to serving time, so she couldn't be that surprised that there wasn't any left to spare. Surely, she wasn't the only one obsessed with the parmesan coating on the outside of the sticky rice. She couldn't blame anyone for jumping on the opportunity to take as many as they could while they were there.
(Y/N) replaced the lid, taking her half filled plate to one of the small tables set up in the room. The day began to catch up with her as she sat down. Her morning had been hectic enough to suck the energy out of her bones, now combined with the disappointment of how high she put herself at the mention of her favorite food before finding it all gone. She slumped into her chair, taking out her phone and finally looking at something that wasn't work-related for the first time that day.
Every bite she scooped into her mouth was monotonous as she slipped a pair of earbuds in before screening the missed messages she'd had to ignore for the morning. Music was filtering through her headphones, the perfect distraction to her brain that felt entirely too empty now that she wasn't running at top speed like she had been the second she'd woke up. If not for the texture of each bite she took, she wouldn't know exactly what she was eating with the way she couldn't use even muster the minuscule amount of energy it would take to glance at her fork.
With her eyes glued to her phone as a video now played out on screen, (Y/N) didn't have enough room in her head to keep track of the rest of the room. As much as she prides herself on being a good assistant, especially being so new to this position, she doesn't think she would notice if Mr. Azoff walked in and screamed out her name while banging pots and pans.
That was exactly the reason she didn't notice Mr. Styles approaching her table either.
It wasn't until she noticed a plate being slid onto the table beside her, a hand complete with a tattooed cross and green glittery nails keeping a hold of the lip until she managed to pull an earbud out. Looking up, Mr. Styles still had that tight look on his face, his free hand fidgeting at his side like he was itching to get out of there.
"Yes?" she chirped, assuming he was finally taking her up on her offers to help him as well when she assisted Mr. Azoff.
Watching as Mr. Styles dropped his gaze from hers, (Y/N) had to keep from tipping her head at him. That wasn't like him at all, unable to keep eye contact. From what she knew, that was something he insisted on. She hoped he was okay.
"Um—'M full, but I thought I'd ask if y'wanted any before I threw these away," he said, his voice floating under his breath.
It was then that (Y/N) finally noted what was on his plate, finding a duo of the arancini balls she had been mourning only moments earlier. The same fragrant, acidic sauce laid underneath it along with shreds of parmesan cheese sprinkled atop, the same way she would have plated it. She had to keep herself from drooling at the sight.
"A-Are you sure?"
A beat passed, the green of Mr. Styles' gaze finally meeting hers again. "I thought these were your favorite."
(Y/N) had to stop herself from letting a pinch touch at her brows. "I mean, yeah, they are, b—"
"Then, 'm sure."
The deep vibrato of his voice was more soothing than any note of music she played could ever hope to be, the same voice she'd had the privilege of listening to every night while on the road on the loudspeakers. Despite the giving nature of his tone, underlying softness floating alongside, she knew there wasn't much room to argue. Besides, (Y/N) didn't think she had the strength to say no to his offer with that plate in front of her.
"Thank you, Mr. Styles," she smiled, reaching for the plate as he retracted his grip.
A chaste smile curved his lips, the tip of his nose seemingly blushing red before he gave her a quiet nod of his head. He didn't say anything else before he walked away, leaving her to constitute her two plates of food into one with that warmth in her stomach that could have energized her enough to work another hectic morning. Her only complaint was that she wished he would have sat down with her. She'd even give up his offer of the arancini if that meant he'd sit down beside her and finish his meal.
She didn't see him again until he was leaving the greenroom with a granola bar in hand, one bite already taken out. She had thought he said he was full.
It was with that thought that, shortly after, (Y/N) realized she had never told Mr. Styles what her favorite food was.
"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear (Y/N), happy birthday to you!"
(Y/N)'s skin felt warm with all eyes on her, a sheet cake in front of her with frosting flowers and twinkling candles stuck through. She didn't know what to do with everyone's eyes on her, twisting in her spot with a shy smile on her lips as the song came to a close. Fluttering her eyes to a close, she blew out the candles while everyone cheered. A wish absently flittered through her head, hoping for happiness to come to everyone in this room with her as they deserved so much after surprising her with a birthday celebration in the middle of an international tour.
"Thank you all, so much," (Y/N) muttered once the room grew quiet, her fingers knotted into a sheepish pile as she swept her gaze across the gathered crowd, "I didn't even realize anyone knew it was my birthday, this really means a lot. Thank you."
All of her new friends, crew and production members for the tour that she had grown close with over the last few weeks, all gave her mixed mutterings of more birthday wishes, that of course they remembered, and they were all more than happy to be a part of this with her. After the show tonight, they all promised to take her out to one of the clubs in town to help her celebrate before they would be off for the next city the following day. Cutting the cake came next, the grouping of crew began to break off as conversations rose in volume in the green room, leaving (Y/N) to soak in the atmosphere as the creamy icing spread over her tongue at first bite.
She truthfully had no idea anyone had been aware of her birthday, let alone have the time to put something like this together. Sure, it wasn't a huge celebration, but the fact a cake had been secured, complete with personalized frosting spelling out her name while on the road, was enough to have her heart hurting from how full it was. Even Mr. Styles had made it, huddling himself in one of the small corners with his arms folded across his chest as he sang along to the birthday song. She was pretty sure he had even been a few minutes late to a fitting for the next slew of tour outfits just so he could be apart of something like this for her.
"Happy birthday, (Y/N)," Mr. Azoff said, coming up behind her with his wife only a few paces behind, both with a plate of cake in hands.
(Y/N)'s features softened immediately as she took him in. "Thank you so much, Mr. Azoff," she started, still disregarding every invitation for her to call him by his first name, "You didn't need to put anything like this together at all. Really, thank you so much."
He would be the only one that might recall her birthday, she figured, coming from her hire paperwork. Besides, they spent enough time together she may have accidentally let it slip out while talking. Mr. Azoff would definitely be the kind of boss that would do something like this for her.
Instead of the humble way he swept away her gratitude she had been expecting, her boss let out a bubbling peal of laughter. Mrs. Azoff matched (Y/N)'s confused expression, knitted brows and all as they looked at him.
"I didn't put this together," he clarified, shaking his head before spearing another bite of cake, "I've been so busy I can't even remember what year it is, let alone the day."
"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, face dropping. "Do you know who it was then? I just want to thank them properly."
A shared look happened between the Azoffs, the missus' blonde brows raising in her husband's direction as if she was wondering the same thing. Mr. Azoff gave her a pointed look, flicking his gaze to (Y/N) for only a moment before he raised a brow. Realization seemed to spring across Mrs. Azoff's face, the kind (Y/N) was hoping she could share in.
"Tell her," Mrs. Azoff mumbled, quiet enough (Y/N) knew she wasn't necessarily meant to hear the command. She watched as Mr. Azoff floundered, his lips pressing into a thin line with wide eyes as if he were pleading with her without words. "Jeffery, I think it would be nice for her to know. He's not going to mind."
Her reasoning seemed to loosen him up some, only enough to have his gaze returning to (Y/N)'s with a small pivot. "Sorry," he told her, excusing the last few moments with a chaste smile on his lips, "Um—It was Harry. He was the one who remembered and put this all together."
(Y/N) had to keep her jaw from dropping at the new information. Her fork was limp in her hand. "Really?"
"Mhm," Mrs. Azoff chirped, "He was the one who came to us, telling us he had everything all planned out, we just needed to be here to surprise you. He did a good job, didn't he?"
The picture of Mr. Styles standing so nonchalant in the corner of the room, singing quietly to the birthday song while she stood in front of the warm glow of the sparkling candles took on a new tint. This had been all of his idea, even the light pink and warm green frosting spelling out her name with petite flowers on the sheet cake had been his idea. The cake itself was even her favorite flavor, something she was doubting was a coincidence.
"Really?" she asked, the question feeling dumb on her tongue but she couldn't help but ask.
"It's all he's been talking about his last couple of days off. He wanted to make sure everyone knew and would be able to come celebrate with you."
Mrs. Azoff's warm smile along with her boss's quiet curl to his lips was all the confirmation (Y/N) needed to know they were being completely serious. They were acting as if they were sharing a secret with her despite the room full of people that were in on it before she was.
"Th-That's really nice of him," she settled on, unsure if there were any real words that could convey just how much the idea of Mr. Styles planning this little surprise made her heart ache. "I'm going to have to tell him thank you when he has a minute."
"I think he'd really like that," Mr. Azoff told her, voice quiet as if he were sharing a tiny secret.
With the way Mrs. Azoff looked at hm after he spoke, (Y/N) wondered if there really was another secret she wasn't privy to.
Screaming cheers filled the SUV the second the door flung open, Mr. Styles piling inside with a towel hung over his shoulder and a bright smile gracing his features. His energy was vibrating off of him in waves, intoxicating the small space of the car as they pulled out of the venue as the curtains closed behind them. (Y/N) never really got to see him this closely after a show, tonight being an occasion that Mr. Azoff and she were to head back to the hotel with him right away in prep for the late night meetings needed before any of them were to be dismissed to bed (Mr. Styles' next album was coming up closer and closer, and labels needed answers if he wanted the vinyl pressings to be done in time).
Tonight, (Y/N) was packed into the backseat of the SUV with Mr. Styles, feeling that bright energy he harnessed on stage settling in like another person sitting between them. He used the towel offered to him by security to wipe off his glistening face, sweat soaking the fabric though he didn't stop smiling.
"Jeff, Jeff," Mr. Styles started, pulling on the neckline of his blueberry embellished top, drawing the fabric away from his skin, "Did you see that back there?"
She watched as her boss let out a small laugh, turning around where he sat in the front passenger seat to face his client. "See what, H?"
The smile that broke out on Mr. Styles' face somehow grew bigger. His breathing was still coming in pants, something (Y/N) wasn't sure was coming from his excitement or the lingering exertion from his stage time. "That girl, she was dressed like a clam and her head was the pearl! I think she had a sign too, but I couldn't see it because every time I looked, she was dancing and I couldn't stop laughing."
"Oh, that's why you could barely finish singing Sushi?" Mr. Azoff pressed, matching Mr. Styles excitement with his own bubbling smile. A small glance was flicked in (Y/N)'s direction, as if she were telling her to get a load of this guy.
"It was so funny, Jeffery," Mr. Styles insisted, the purple leather of his pants squeaking against the seats with the way he couldn't manage to sit still, "It was like there was a bobblehead out there, but with these little legs." Just when Mr. Azoff went to answer, Mr. Styles completely changed with his jaw dropping before he turned to (Y/N) with another layer of excitement brewing in the car. "Wait, (Y/N)! Did you see that girl dressed like a fairy? She was standing with the angel and the sushi roll!"
(Y/N) tried to school her features, keep the surprise off her face at the fact Mr. Styles was acknowledging her—and with a smile too! Attempting to focus on the question at hand, she racked her brain for whoever it was that he was referencing. "Maybe. Were they standing in pit?" she asked, settling into the leather of her seat with Mr. Azoff watching on with a less than neutral expression giving away his own shock.
"Yes, yes," Mr. Styles chattered off, "Towards the exit catwalk! She had on big sparkly wings, and everything!"
"Oh, yeah," (Y/N) perked up, giving him a matching grin, "That was the same costume—"
"—you wore for Halloween!" Mr. Styles cut her off to finish her own sentence, bouncing in his seat in time with the rhythm of the pavement underneath the wheels of the car. "That's why I noticed her! Y'had the same wings, and the dress, and everything, right?"
This time (Y/N) wasn't as smooth to recover at his words. She had been the only one to dress as such for the holiday, and she hadn't thought Mr. Styles had seen her at all in his own rush to be dressed in his own costume and prepping the extra song he was to cover for the occasion. It could have only been twice where she thought he might have seen her, especially as more than a blur that had to run past while doing whatever errands Mr. Azoff needed.
"Y-Yeah," she bubbled off, pretending she didn't stutter in hopes that no one else would notice, "that was my Halloween costume. I didn't realize you noticed."
The curls that flopped over Mr. Styles' forehead added to the boyish sparkle in his eyes as he looked at her, dimples denting his cheeks. "Your's was m'favorite costume."
It was only a second later that Mr. Styles was distracted once more in his adrenaline-fueled post-concert excitement, drawing Mr. Azoff into another bubbling conversation about a moment that happened on stage. (Y/N) was left to settle into her spot, seatbelt tight around her chest as her heart struggled to beat out of its cage.
If he wasn't careful, (Y/N) was going to start thinking he didn't hate her.
(Y/N) sidestepped out of the doorway, allowing Mr. Styles to brush past her in his rush to exit the room she'd just entered. He didn't bother to even make eye contact with her or shoot her an awkward smile she'd become accustomed to. All she caught of him was his strained expression as she bounced into the room, feeling much more awake this morning after the bubbling excitement she felt while riding back to the hotel with Mr. Styles being so happy to talk with her.
That excitement drained as soon as she saw the way he all but flinched at her presence now that the after show adrenaline had worn off. Mr. Azoff seemed just as surprised at the blatant switch as he watched Mr. Styles run off.
"Uh—Good morning, Mr. Azoff," (Y/N) attempted to chirp out.
She could see the way he floundered for words, his eyes flicking between her and Mr. Styles' retreating figure she was forcing herself to keep from glancing at. "(Y/N), I—"
"It's okay, it's okay," she waved him off, doing her best to convince herself with her own excuse, "He's probably still tired from last night, it's okay."
The look on Mr. Azoff's face told her he knew something she didn't. (Y/N) figured it was a secret she didn't want to know.
This had to be the first time (Y/N) had ever seen Mr. Azoff so stressed, especially after setting out on this tour with his favorite client. His hair was a mess with the usual day's worth of stubble on his face now growing into almost a full beard with the way the last few days have come stumbling around him. Near constantly did he have a phone pressed to his ear, preferring to take all of these phone calls as opposed to allowing (Y/N) to take care of them like he had so far in this route.
"We don't know if he's going to be able to make it on this Friday," she heard Mr. Azoff sigh into the receiver, dragging a heavy hand through his hair. Mrs. Azoff looked just as glum as she listened into the conversation from the small couch that was set up in the living space of their hotel room. "I know—we're trying. He's barely been able to get out of bed since he got off stage last night, we haven't started on the road at all."
(Y/N) felt concern spike in her chest at the mention of Mr. Styles' state. She knew he wasn't doing so well after last night, especially with how hard he had to start straining himself towards the end of the show just to hit notes she knew would otherwise be easy for him. What she hadn't known was the fact he didn't have the strength to even get out of bed. She'd hate for him to have caught the same flu that one of the crew members had suffered through just a couple of weeks earlier.
"We don't want to cancel or reschedule anything, yet, no," Mr. Azoff rushed out, sinking into the couch cushion beside his equally as exhausted wife, "We have a few days still, so we'll see if he feels any better by Thursday. If not, I'll call you with options."
It was only moments later that Mr. Azoff hung up the call, looking just as exhausted as he started the call. Seeing as how it was Tuesday, and Mr. Styles had only a few days left to be feeling better in time to even travel for his next show, she could understand his stress.
Before (Y/N) could even offer her services, Mr. Azoff said her name with a lingering exhaustion. "Could you call one of those liquid IV offices, please? And get his doctor on a call; if he needs antibiotics, I want them picked up by the end of the day."
Very few times did Mr. Azoff feel like a boss, always talking to her in gentler tones with requests rather than demands. Not that he was flexing any superiority and unforgiving directions even now, but she knew this was something he needed done thirty minutes ago, but was still willing to accept it being done now.
That was all she needed to hear before she had her phone pressed to her ear. Even if Mr. Styles didn't care for her as much as she may have thought a week ago, she wanted him better just as much as Mr. Azoff did, and not just because of the touring schedule.
How (Y/N) happened to be the only one within the central crew to have been vaccinated for the flu this season, she didn't know, but she didn't mind the added responsibility tied with the booster. Armed with a takeaway container of hot soup, a liter bottle of water, and another round of medication for Mr. Styles, Mr. Azoff sent her off to his hotel room.
Mr. Styles had all but been quarantined since he started exhibiting those early flu symptoms, a medical team having been the ones tending to him the previous couple of days as he apparently worsened into running a fever and getting sick to his stomach. It was into the late hours of the evening that Mr. Azoff finally shooed them off (at his client's request, supposedly. Mr. Styles felt bad to have so many people fussing over him, he had said), and thanked them for everything they did for his client. They were left with the tools and a regiment on the best and fastest way to get Mr. Styles healthy again. She remembered watching Mr. Azoff read over the extensive list left in his care, a humorless laugh leaving his lips and he muttered something about the miracle of this week being one of the longer breaks he had scheduled between shows.
As the crew couldn't afford anyone else getting as sick as Mr. Styles was, (Y/N) was chosen to be the first one to tend to him given the fact she would be the least likely to catch whatever virus he had—and even if she did, they could afford to have her on bed rest for a few days. Mr. Azoff had passed along the printed schedule of his medication times and what foods and fluids would be best to get his system back on track in the remaining forty-eight hours left until a decision would have to be made on whether or not the next show was in jeopardy, and she was on her way.
An apology was ready on her tongue for the second she breached the sanctuary of his hotel room, knowing that she was most likely one of the last people he wanted to see at a time like this. That was the hardest part, she figured. She wasn't afraid of falling ill or seeing him sick, it was knowing just how unwelcome she was going to be in his space, especially since he wouldn't be able to flitter away from her like she knew he was used to. But, that fear was going to have to be shoved into a box in the back of her mind. Mr. Styles wasn't feeling well and needed someone to help him, and that was what she was going to focus on.
After a quiet rap of her knuckles against his hotel room door went expectedly unanswered, (Y/N) pulled for the keycard Mr. Azoff had slipped into the bag of essentials he'd passed off to her. As soon as the handle clicked with a green light blinking, she twisted the knob carefully. A quiet creak whined from the hinges as she entered the dark room.
Mr. Styles' messy bed was empty, the only light coming from the dimly set bedside lamp revealing the creases and folds in the bedding she was sure housekeeping hadn't had a chance to come by and change since he'd been holed up in the space. His luggage was left neatly beside the closet, only a pair of brightly colored socks laid atop the case letting her know it had been touched in the last few days. If not for the fact she knew there was no where else for him to have gone without someone on his team being notified, (Y/N) would have assumed his hotel room to be deserted by the way the air felt stale as she stepped in.
"Mr. Styles? It's (Y/N). I know you probably don't wan—"
Before she could finish her apology for stepping into his space, a gagging noise from the bathroom gave away his position. That was when she noticed the sliver of light leaking from underneath the closed door.
Rolling her lips between her teeth with concern knitting her brows together, (Y/N) abandoned her doctor assembled and boss ordered care package on the bedside table. It was with shaking hands that she gently knocked on the bathroom door.
A groan answered a beat later. "Jeff, I promise 'm going to be alright in a couple of days," Mr. Styles grumbled out, voice deep and sour, "Don't cancel anything, please."
Releasing the hold her teeth had on her bottom lip, (Y/N) sucked in a deep breath. "Actually, it's (Y/N)."
"W-What are y'doing here?" was his stuttered response, raw voice leveling out in volume.
Not quite as biting as she may have expected in a moment like this, but (Y/N) had figured he would ask something of this type. "I'm the only one that's had my flu shot, so Mr. Azoff wanted me to come check on you. Is it alright if I come in?"
"Please, don't." That was the clipped response she had been anticipating, but (Y/N) thought his tone dipped into something more embarrassed than angry.
"Mr. Styles, I have water and food, and the medication you'r—"
Before she could get much further with her explanation, she was cut off by the sound of a guttural noise on the other side of the door. Mr. Styles gagged alone in the bathroom, his panting breaths being cut off only to be replaced with the sound of him getting sick.
As much as (Y/N) wanted to respect his privacy and foster a kinder relationship between the pair of them, there was no way she was going to be able to sit idly by knowing that she could help him when he so clearly needed some support. That was all it took for her to barge into the bathroom, rushing over the tiles to where Mr. Styles was hunched over the toilet.
Focusing herself on him and not what was currently leaving his system, (Y/N) stroked her hand down his back while the other worked on drawing his hair out of his face. A stray clip was fit against the top of his head, a sloppy attempt she was sure he had executed with shaking hands.
"(Y/N), no," he stuttered over her name until she felt a shudder rack his spine, his head being sent back to the toilet bowl as another round of sickness left his body.
She didn't say anything back, knowing not only would it fall on deaf ears, but this wasn't the time to start pleading with him to let her stay. That wasn't up for debate as far as she was concerned; whether he liked it or not, she wasn't going to leave him to be sick all by himself in a hotel room in a country he didn't call home. Nothing sounded more dreadful than that.
Instead, she only shushed him and lead a soothing hand down his spine with her other hand fixing his hair from his face. The strands had lost their curl after a few days without wash, matching the stale texture of his clothes that she was sure he hadn't changed out of in just as long. Having heard about how heavily he prioritized his self-care, especially when touring, she knew he really must feel terrible if he couldn't bring himself to do any of those basic things.
Nonetheless, she stayed a constant, steady presence beside him on the bathroom floor. She tucked baby curls behind his ears, the strands too short to reach clip on the top of his head, and she shushed him with a gentle hand on his back as he emptied his system before being reduced down to dry heaves and gags resulting in nothing more than stolen breath and teary eyes.
"It's okay, Mr. Styles, just breathe," she reminded him as he reached to flush the toilet, his breathing coming in rapid pants through his raw throat.
"Don't call me that," he panted, sitting back on his heels though he still didn't care to turn to face her, "I don't like it when y'call me that."
"Okay, okay," she soothed, the same word having fallen from her lips at least a hundred times at this point, "What do you want me to call you? What do you like better?"
"Jus' H, please. Want y'to talk to me like y'know me."
Her heart just about broke at how pathetic he sounded in that moment, his request just short of a whine given his burned throat. "Okay, I can do that," she agreed with a gentle pat to his back. "I'm going to be right back, alright? I brought you some water for you to sip on."
Before (Y/N) could even get to her feet, Mr. S—Harry—H twisted in his spot and raced to wrap his fingers around her wrists. He kept her from going any further with his manacle-like grip, bloodshot eyes glossy in the low light of the bathroom. "Wait, please. I-I don't want to be alone if I get sick again."
As much as she knew it was against her better judgment to leave the liter of water out in the bedroom, there was no way she could argue against him when he looked at her like that. And, for the first time ever, he was pleading with her to stay with him, not fighting for a way out of her presence. How could she say no to that?
"Okay, I'll stay a few minutes longer, but I need to have you drinking something soon," she reasoned, settling back down onto the tile floor. She crossed her legs underneath her, opting for something more comfortable than the cuffs of her knees digging into the hard floor as she was prepared to sit there for as long as Harry needed her (or until she could convince him of the importance of water right now).
Harry all but deflated with relief at her words, slumping into her arms in a way that had (Y/N) doubting he knew he was doing. Another sign of just how bad he was feeling then—he'd never seek comfort in her like this otherwise. Nonetheless, (Y/N) wrapped her arms around him without question, cushioning her back against the wall of the bathroom behind her while Harry's clumsy limbs found purchase around her. He shuffled up beside her with legs folded underneath him, his bottom on his heels. He was close enough to the toilet incase of an emergency, but his knees still knocked into hers with his arms around her waist, face tucking into the curve of her throat.
"Thank you," he murmured into her neck once he burrowed himself against her skin, his forehead clammy.
"Of course," she told him, her arms around his middle with her palms spanning the planes of his back. "Has it been like this all day?"
"Mhm," he practically whined, his nose scrunching against her skin, "I hate it. I hate being sick. I jus' want to be better already."
(Y/N) held him tighter the second she felt wetness slide over her skin, moreso than the sheen of sweat that covered his forehead. He was crying. That gloss that had lacquered his gaze had overflown, now leaking over her skin and pooling in the line of her collarbones. "I know, H, I know," she crooned to him, forcing herself to stay composed despite how much her heart ached for him then, "I brought stuff for you that's supposed to help you feel better. Do you want to try taking some medicine or drinking some water?"
"I don't think I can keep it down," he told her, voice watery as he spoke, "'M sorry."
"No, don't be sorry, okay?" she gently scolded him, shaking her head as she brought her hand up to card through the length of the curls on the back of his head.
"I jus' want to be better, (Y/N)," he repeated earnestly, a sniffle following right after to match the wiggle of his nose she felt against her skin. She wanted to be endeared at the small touch but that was quickly outweighed by the concern she felt the second another wave of tears washed over her skin, Harry's breathing shifting until she feared he would start sobbing.
"And you will be," she promised, hugging him tighter with her fingers lacing through his hair, "You need to give yourself a little more time, okay? Sleep a little more, and once you're up to it, we'll have you eating and drinking again and you'll be feeling so much better. I promise."
Harry tensed in her arms before could finish his thought. A scramble of limbs ensued then, leaving (Y/N) feeling the absence of his warmth while he hunched over the toilet and threw up the nonexistent contents of his stomach. (Y/N) was behind him in a rush, rubbing his back and cooing to him as he began to dry heave, only bile leaving his system now.
It was (Y/N) this time that flushed the toilet down for him after a few minutes of nothing else triggering his gag reflex, proceeding to gather him back into her arms once he was settled enough to unlock his joints and allow his muscles to go malleable again.
"It's alright, H—"
"See?" he cut her off, voice particularly raw after his latest showing, "'M not getting better, (Y/N). I jus' want to be better and-and play a show and I do-don't want to let anyone down."
"You're not letting anyone down," she cemented, relaxing into the stiff sidewall of the tub as he tucked himself into her warmth one more time with his face in her neck.
"I've heard Jeff talking about cancelling or rescheduling shows," he mumbled, a sniffle following after, "I don't want to do that. S-So many people travel jus' to see me, and 's be-been so long an—"
Harry was cut off by his own crying, the stress of the situation along with the just how awful he felt in that moment catching up to him now that someone was there to listen. His grip on her tightened with his arms around her waist and his face buried in her neck, his chest stuttering with his uneven breaths and squeezes of his sobbing lungs.
All she could do then was hold him against her, as if her hug could keep him from shaking so hard with his heady breaths. Her neck was slick with his tears, the tip of his nose wiggling with every sniffle he sucked in in hopes of regulating his breathing.
"Its okay, H, really," she cooed to him, drawing one of her hands up to the back of his head with her fingertips twirling through the curls, "You need to stop crying, okay? You're only making yourself more sick by crying, you know. Just breathe, alright? It's going to be okay, I promise."
Though it took him a moment, she could feel the way he tried to heed her advice. He fought off the stutter of his sobs, his breathing coming out in shaky pulls with the exhales being long and drawn out over her skin. Her palms soothed down his spine, the length of her nails dragging over his shirt in what she hoped was calming runs.
"Feel a little better now?" she asked once he curated a rhythm of deep breaths and sinking exhales. Though she could feel just the smallest remnants of his tears having seeped against her neck, she didn't feel that dampness growing as opposed to the way it was only a few moments earlier.
"Y-yeah," he mumbled, nodding his head against her neck, "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry, okay?" she told him, parroting her earlier words, "There's nothing to be sorry for. No one likes being sick, and I know you're under a lot of pressure since we're also on the road. It's okay."
A nasally little thank you sounded against her neck along with the brush of his lips being felt against her throat. A small smile touched at the corners of her lips as she felt him relax into her, exhaustion weighing him down now that he wasn't clinging to the edge of the toilet. (Y/N) tentatively laid her cheek on the top of his head, lending him more of her warmth in hopes of holding off another wave of his fever.
Just when she figured he'd fallen asleep, his breathing even with puffs of air fanning over her skin, he pulled his face from her neck. Harry's cheeks were flushed as he looked to her, ruddy and glistening with a sheen of sweat. His eyes were puffy and red, the scleras bloodshot from his crying session. Even his lips were swollen, the same hue as his red-tipped nose.
"Can I have some water?" he asked her pathetically, voice nasally given his clogged sinuses, "And a blanket. 'M really cold."
(Y/N) nodded her head right away, feeling her eyes rounding out as she took him in with pity in her gaze. "I'll be right back, okay?" she told him, brushing stray curls behind his ears.
Harry gave her another sad look, mimicking the nod of her head. "Thank you," he told her before tucking his swollen bottom lip between his teeth.
She made quick work of collecting the liter of water she'd put off to the side along with the knitted blanket that was bundled over the hotel bed. She knew that was something he'd brought from home, an item she'd seem him cart around to every venue and every hotel room to help him feel more at home despite the miles between. Hopefully it would be just what he needed in that moment.
Stepping into the bathroom, Harry was just where she had left him. He was bundled beside the bathtub, his legs now bent in front of him to make himself into a small ball with his arms around his shins. His glossy eyes seemed to widen at the sight of his blanket, completely glancing over the water in her opposing hand in favor of reaching for his token from home.
"Thank you so much," he repeated, grabby hands taking the knitted blanket as soon as she offered it to him.
Despite his aching limbs, the blanket was wrapped around Harry's shoulders in quick succession, the fabric being pulled up to his face with a finger wrapped in the material from underneath absently rubbing against his cheek. He soothed himself enough to have his eyes flutter to a close as (Y/N) settled in beside him, taking her spot against the bathtub wall with her legs criss-crossed underneath her bottom.
"Still want some water?" she asked in a crooned tone, hoping to keep from disturbing him too much from the sweetened state he was falling into.
"Yes, please," he murmured, eyes still closed.
Twisting off the cap of his water, (Y/N) offered it to him with a nudge against his shoulder. Harry begrudgingly untangled his hand from the knit of his blanket, taking the bottle with his eyes opened to only a slit.
"Only take sips, H," she told him as he raised the bottle to his lips, "Any more and it might make you sick again."
"But 'm so thirsty," he whined, brows pinching together in the middle.
"I know, but if you drink too fast it'll make you sick again," she reasoned with him, scooting in closer to him with her arm pressing against his own, "Just sip it for now and if you can keep it all down tonight, you can drink all the water you want."
Heaving a sigh, he gave a nod of his head as he heeded her advice and took small sips from his bottle. (Y/N) kept an eye on him as he drank, watching for any turn of the tide that would garner her helping him back to the toilet bowl. By the time he finally seemed satiated, handing her the bottle in search of the cap to be fixed back on top, he sunk down and lent his cheek against her shoulder. His eyes were shuttered closed once more, his hand working its way back under the knit of his blanket to press the material against his cheek again.
"Tired?" (Y/N) murmured, maneuvering to wrap her arm around his shoulders and cuddle him close.
"Yeah," he said, voice cracking some under the pressure of his raw throat.
"Here," she said, shuffling in her spot to move just far enough away from him to get a whine filtering through his throat. Uncrossing her legs, she unfurled them in front of her with her ankles folding over one another, "Lay down, H, its okay. You can put your head in my lap."
He seemed calmed at the prospect of her only moving so he could more comfortably. With his legs curled against his tummy into a ball, Harry laid his head in her lap, her plush thighs acting as his pillow. "Thank you," he sighed, nasally voice quietly bouncing off the tiles.
"When you wake up we'll take some medicine, okay?" she told him, placing her hands in his hair as she unclipped the sprout she'd made with the strands to card through his curls.
All she earned in response was a quiet okay, leaving him to fall asleep only moments later.
Sinking against the sidewall of the bathtub, (Y/N) let her own eyes close. Cuddling with Mr. Styles was definitely not how she saw this morning going. She was going to have to text Mr. Azoff to let him know not to expect her for the rest of the day.
Humming to acknowledge the call of her name, (Y/N) continued to clean up the little medication station she made up on his bedside table now that each of the pills were in his system. She was going to have to call up for another large water bottle for him now that there was less than a fourth of the liter left. And, probably another serving of hot soup since that had been forgotten hours earlier, going cold.
"'M sorry," Harry said behind her, the warmth of his glossy gaze being pinned on her back.
"You don't need to be sorry, remember?" she said to him, constituting all of his orange and white bottles back into the small pack the medical team had prepared as she gave him a small glance over her shoulder. "No one is upset with you; it's not your fault you're sick, we all know that."
"No," he croaked, shaking his head against the fluffed pillow, "That's not what 'm talking about."
"Oh?" she asked, settling into the nest of bedding she'd made her own since they carted him back to bed after his nap. He hadn't been sick for hours at this point, the main concern shifting to fend off the fever that was sapping his energy and drawing a fog over his brain.
As soon as he saw her close once more, Harry made a move to lay his head in her lap again. It was instinctive at this point to have her hands carding through his hair, pulling the strands from his flushed skin. This time though, Harry looked up at her with his slightly hooded gaze, a touch unfocused despite the fact he'd been awake for the better part of the last hour.
"'M sorry 'm so mean to you," he breathed, a sheen collecting over his eyes as he took her in, "You're taking care of me, and I don't deserve it."
(Y/N) felt like a deer in headlights with his tired gaze on her. This was definitely not how she ever saw this conversation going—if this conversation ever happened, anyway. She floundered for words as she shook her head, distracting him with a particularly drawn out run of her fingers through his curls.
"Don't say that, okay? What you don't deserve, is staying alone in a hotel room while you're sick," she murmured, "But, you don't need to worry about that right now, okay? You don't need to apologize for anything."
To be fair, she never really considered his behavior mean. He avoided her, sure, but he was never blatantly rude to her.
"No, no," he shook his head in her lap, "'M so mean to you 's not fair. I-I barely even talk to you, and you're still taking care of me. 'M sorry, (Y/N)."
"Harry, really, I don't think you're mean, ok—"
"I jus' don't know how to talk to you, (Y/N)," he continued as if he hadn't heard a single word she said, "'S so hard to talk to you, and-and m'brain hurts when I try to think about it."
Canting her head as she gazed down at him, she dropped one of her hands from his hair only to skate over the planes of his face. She traced over the height of his cheekbone, and brushed the length of his lashes before she grazed the bridge of his nose. "It's okay, Harry," she soothed him, watching as his eyes fell closed, "It's okay to be shy. I know Mr. Azoff's last assistant was really close to you, it's fine if we're not there yet. We'll get there someday, right?"
"No," he whined, drawing out the syllable as he peeked his eyes open, "'S not like that—not like with Mallory, (Y/N). I like y'so much that m'brain doesn't work around you. It wasn't like that at all with Mallory—I didn't have a crush on her."
(Y/N) was thankful for the cover of his illness to keep him from fully noticing her reaction to his confession. While it was sweet the way he described his feelings—a crush, he'd said—that had to have been at the very bottom of the list of reasons she would have thought up as to why he behaved the way he did around her. What was she supposed to say to something like that? How was she supposed to take it given the fact that this could be nothing more than one of his delirious ramblings given the state of his fever?
"I can't believe 'm telling you like this," he muttered, eyes fluttered closed in a tight pinch as he turned in her lap. He faced the soft of her tummy, his arms wrapping around her middle as he nosed at the fabric of her top. "I smell like vomit and I haven't washed m'hair for four days, 'm sorry."
A quiet sigh left her lips as she carded her fingers through his hair, the unwashed curls slipping between her fingers. "It's okay, Harry. Don't worry about any of that right now, okay? We can talk about that later, but you need to focus on getting better right?"
"Right," he peeped, voice slowing and dredging deeper into sleep, "And you'll stay with me?"
Her answer was automatic, "Of course. I'll be here to take care of you, I promise."
It was only moments later he was asleep again, face tucked against her tummy while (Y/N) was wide awake.
(YN) woke with a stiff neck to the sound of the shower running, still wrapped up in Harry's bedding though now she had his knitted blanket draped over her form. The side of the bed she had slipped him into once she was too tired to stay awake was now cold, only the impression of his body on the sheets giving away his presence.
Blinking her dry eyes, she tried to get her bearings after the long night she'd had tending to her boss's favorite client, along with every rambling confession he woke up in the middle of the night to share.
He apparently thought her hair was very pretty, wanted to share clothes with her, and thought she had a cute laugh. Though, those were only the confessions she could decipher in his sleepy, nasally voice.
She was still clothed in the outfit she'd donned the morning before, her phone waiting with a handful of texts from Mr. Azoff asking about Mr. Styles' state and if there was anything the pair of them needed now that (Y/N) had taken on the role of nursing him back to health for the time being. She pushed those messages off to the side at the moment, instead trying to untwirl her brain now that she had a moment alone without Mr. Styles' health at the front of her mind.
He liked her, he'd said—he had a crush on her even. That was why he didn't have it in himself to hold a conversation with her, too shy to speak to her without making an ass of himself. The thought made her heart flutter, a fact she couldn't deny especially after she realized the smile on her face when she recalled his exact words.
Despite the fact his kindness didn't always extend to her in the obvious ways, thinking back, she realized the signs were there. He remembered her birthday and put together an impromptu party that he couldn't even properly attend. He remembered her Halloween costume even though he was running around all day, preparing for one of the biggest shows of the year. He paid attention to her; he listened for her favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite books. While he was too shy to talk to her about those things directly, he still went out of his way to find them out and keep them to himself.
It was easier for her since she knew she got this job to send her own feelings packing, out of her head and her heart before she could find herself in trouble with an infatuation with her boss's favorite client and best friend. That fact grew even more important as soon as Harry started behaving the way he did around her, but now that she had that glimmering confession, the tender explanation, it was hard to keep those feelings from marching right back in. All those months that she had to school herself into knocking away the melancholy at the fact that one of her inspirations didn't seem to like her now were turned in a new light, trying to see those same moments from Harry's point of view.
How many times had she thought she felt his eyes on her, only to turn and find him looking the other direction? Had she really been only a second too late to catch his gaze? Every time she had chattered away with a member of the crew or Mr. Azoff himself, with Harry scrolling through his phone distractedly had he really been listening in and collecting information he was too scared to ask for? Or even the times he had dropped his gaze when she met his, the blushing hue to his skin now could be out of sheepish affection and not the need to get away from her as soon as possible.
She hadn't been invisible to him, or even a negative presence in his day-to-day, she was piecing together. He thought of her the same way she thought of him. What a heart-stopping thought.
(Y/N) jumped in her spot, the bedsheets rustling around her denim-clad legs at the sound of Harry's rumbling voice. Dropping back into the moment, she saw him standing just outside the bathroom door, luggage at his feet as he packed away the clothing he would need sent off to be washed before they were on their way to the next destination. A quiet smile was on his lips, a shy shifting to his gaze that kept him from meeting hers. His socked feet dug into the plush carpet on the floor, legs folded over in a pair of heavy black sweats along with a crewneck from his brand that hadn't been released to the public just yet. His hair was damp and dark, finally washed after the few days she was sure it had been bothering him.
"Morning," she chirped back, finding her voice, "How are you feeling?"
"Better," he mused, running a hand through his damp hair, "Finally getting to actually sleep last night helped a lot, I think. I took the medicine y'left on the table, and took a shower and I'm really feeling a lot better."
"Good, that makes me happy. Now, you can sleep all day and actually eat something instead of laying on the bathroom floor." (Y/N) felt proud of herself when she caught sight of the dimples denting his cheeks as he huffed out a quiet laugh.
A beat of silence passed between them as Harry finally dropped the guise of rifling through his bag to face her. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweats, he toed at the ground as he looked at her through the fan of his lashes.
"Um, thanks for taking care of me and everything yesterday, (Y/N)," he drawled, a pinch touching between his brows, "I really, really appreciate it. 'M sure it wasn't easy. My mum says I always get whiny when 'm sick, so..."
"You weren't that bad," she told him with a gentle smile, crossing her legs underneath herself from where she sat on the bed, "I used to babysit when I was in college, and you are definitely not as bad as some of the kids I used to help."
"Great," he laughed with a playful roll of his eyes, "'m not as bad as a child. I'll have to tell my mum, that'll show her."
After the short peals of laughter died down, silence filled in for their voices. Was she supposed to say something? Did he want her to say something? Or was what was said last night meant to stay right there—in the evening hours, in the brain fog that came along with his fever?
"Listen," he said, swallowing hard as he finally met her gaze head on, "'M really sorry about yesterday. I know I said a lot of things, and 'm really sorry if I made y'uncomfortable or anything. I-I don't know why I said any of that, honestly."
Fighting the urge to drop her own gaze as she'd seen him do so many times before, (Y/N) kept herself focused on him, following the small droplets of water that clung to his forehead from his damp curls. "You didn't make me uncomfortable," she said, "But—um—di-did you mean it? What you said? About being shy and everything because of... me?"
Another harsh swallow had his throat bobbing, the green of his eyes disappearing for just a moment as he blinked towards the ceiling before returning. "I mean, yeah. I did mean it. I never wanted to tell y'like that, though, that's for sure. I know y'were being nice, but I definitely did smell like vomit and you're a saint for sitting there and letting me talk like a crazy person all night. I don't even know how you found time to sleep with me constantly bothering you."
"You weren't bothering me," she said, a smile cracking her features now that she realized there was no catch to his confession. There was no reason to quash the happiness filling her chest. "I thought it was really sweet what you were saying to me. It was nice to hear all of that stuff, especially since I was pretty sure you didn't like me just two days ago."
He clenched his eyes shut at her finishing words. "I really am sorry about that, I hope you know," he said with a heady sigh, "I wish I had a better explanation, but really, you jus' make me nervous."
"It's okay," she waved off, shuffling towards the edge of the bed closest to him without much thought, "You make me nervous, too—I get it."
"I do?" he asked, a boyish smile touching at his features while his eyes seemingly sparkled in the low light.
"I mean, yeah," she revealed, a duh tone to her words, "Why do you think it's always so hard for me to talk to you?"
Harry took slow steps towards the edge of the bed, his socked feet dragging through the plush carpet. "But you're always so—," he trailed off, flicking his hands out in front of him with a flourish, "Everywhere, I guess. Talking to everyone and laughing. I don't think I've ever seen y'nervous."
"Well, I don't like everyone else the way I like you, so I don't get nervous like that. It's harder to talk to you when all I want is to say the right thing."
Before she even realized it, Harry was stood right in front of where she was sat on the edge of the bed. He towered over her with warmth radiating from his chest, the heat much more pleasant than the fever he was running the night before, especially when he looked at her so sweetly with his big eyes. It was in slow movements that he brought his hands out and settled them on her wrists, only to trail down to lace his fingers between hers. When she didn't pull away or make any sound of protest, she felt him squeeze her hands.
"I like hearing y'talk. Y'have a pretty voice," he murmured, his voice just a touch deeper than normal given the last week of his life.
"I like your voice too," she beamed up at him, "Why do you think I'm always out there during the shows?"
"Because, Jeff makes you?" he teased, shyly dropping her gaze to where their hands were bundled between them.
(Y/N) shook her head, adjusting her position on the bed to sit with her bottom on her heels and her legs folded underneath her. "I like listening to you sing and talk to everyone. You're amazing on stage. It's my favorite part of being on the road with everyone—getting to see you every night like that."
He keened under her praise, canting his head as he squeezed her hands. Dimples dented his cheeks as he looked to her. "Thank you," he murmured, the blunt ends of his front teeth sinking into his bottom lip once he got his gratitude out.
Looking at him like this, feeling the strength of his hands and the heat of his skin all the while he looked at her so tenderly had (Y/N)'s heart racing. How was this real?"
Dropping her eyes to his lips, the raspberry color just a bit drained from his illness though he wasn't any less appealing. She spoke without thought as her stayed stuck on his mouth, "Can I kiss you?"
She watched as a smile grew on his lips at her words. "I—uh—'M sick, remember?" he protested less than half-heartedly.
"I got my flu shot, remember?"
That was all the convincing it took to have Harry dropping her hands from his, only to then cradle the soft of her cheeks in his hands. His lips slotted against hers in a tender press, allowing her to taste the clean mint of his toothpaste and whatever scented chapstick he'd swiped over his pout. She didn't even have time to think about the fact she was still wearing her clothes from the day before with unbrushed hair and unwashed skin, not with the way he was holding her and pressing into her mouth for more. It was as unhurried of a kiss as it was wanting, making up for the lost time that had been wasted over the past few months.
The contact remained innocent, only sweet presses of their lips growing more and more delicate until Harry pulled away just to press a smattering of kisses against her pout. His actions drew a laugh from her chest, her hands reaching for his shirt as he kissed her smiling mouth.
"We don't have to leave for the venue until tonight, right?" he asked, slightly breathless though he matched her smile tenfold. (Y/N) nodded her head still in his delicate grip, the pad of his thumb sweeping under her eye. "We should probably leave for a little and let housekeeping clean up a little, but 'm still really tired," his gaze flickered over hers, his smile growing that much more at whatever he found in there, "Could we go back to your room? We don't have to do anything"—that had his cheeks blushing—", but I don't want to sleep alone again after this."
That was all (Y/N) needed before she was dragging him down the hall to her hotel room, following right after him into her unused, plush bed. It was instinct at this point the way he cuddled up to her, face in her neck with his nose pressed to her pulse. All she felt was a press of his lips to the curve of her throat before he was asleep again, leaving (Y/N) the time to send Mr. Azoff a message.
Harry was fine, she told him, but he'd probably need another day of rest and looking after. A job she was more than willing to continue to take on. She'd tell him the full story later, she decided, especially after he saw the room service charges for double meals to her room.
I got a request for something like this a super long time ago so thank you to whoever requested for being so patient! thank you so much for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if anyone has any ideas or requests of your own pls pls send them in !
FILTHIEST WAY POSSIBLE
18+ ONLY — whilst having, some pretty filthy sex, y/n finally gathers up the courage to ask harry to fulfil one of her fantasies (getting slapped during sex)
reblogs & feedback are appreciated :)
The pace of Harry’s thrusts was ruthless, his hips crashing against y/ns over and over again. His head was hung low, face nestled into her neck as his breath came out in pants. The sheets were pulled from the corners of the bed and the pillows were thrown on the floor, alongside their disregarded clothes. The sight was plain old filthy, y/ns fingers gripping onto the ends of Harry’s hair, her toes curled whilst Harry’s back muscles flexed with each movement, his tattooed body on display for his lover.
He lifts his head from the crook of her neck, his elbows now coming to rest next to Y/ns face to keep himself up. He looks down at y/n with a mixture of love and lust before his lips crash against hers in a sloppy kiss, y/n continues to pull at the ends of his hair, moaning into his mouth with urgency.
The pace of Harry’s thrusts, the way his cock was grazing perfectly against her g-spot, and the way his movement meant that her swollen clit was also getting pleasured was perfect. Everything was perfect but y/n still needed that little something that would finally push her over the edge and into bliss. She doesn’t know whether she should bring it up now. Scared of Harry’s reaction. It had been playing on her mind a lot recently, y/n and Harry weren’t exactly vanilla when it came to the bedroom, they definitely did play around but this, this was something she was unsure of how Harry would react to. She wanted to get slapped, wanted to feel his heavy palm against her face during sex. Something about it made her wetter, just the thought had her clenching tightly around Harry, causing him to groan and drop his face back into her neck.
“Fuck” he growled, “taking me so well. So fuckin tight ‘round me” his hips were still moving at the agonising pace, the plushy head of his cock reaching so deep inside of y/n, she could practically feel him in her stomach. Her eyes roll back at the sensation and her legs open wider, letting more of Harry in.
She bucks her hips upwards, meeting his thrusts. “Shit, just like that” she moans, looking Harry into his eyes. He was gone for her, he’d do anything in the world to please her and the look in his eyes was proof of that.
“You going to cum, love?” He asks, watching the way y/n squirms on the bed, beneath him. “You’ve taken me so well so far” he praises, pushing her hair back. Harry could tell she was close, he could tell she needed that final push to finally let go but he couldn’t quite place his finger on what exactly y/n needed. “What is it you need? Huh? Tell me, pet”
“W-want” she was cut off by a moan she couldn’t control due to a particularly hard thrust from Harry.
“Go on, say it” he eggs on, his mouth dropping open at the feeling of her warm and wet walls.
“Want, want you to slap me” she finally let out. Her head is thrown back, as Harry delivers another powerful thrust. “S-slap my face”
“My filthy little minx” Harry chuckles, moaning lowly, before pressing a hard kiss to y/ns swollen lips. She reciprocates, her tongue sliding into his mouth, exploring him. Harry pulls away to let out a groan, “such a dirty girl” with that he lands a harsh slap against y/ns cheek, she feels the burn on her face, but only moans at the contact.
“Fuck Harry” she cries out in pleasure, grinding her hips upwards, her thighs were trembling, heat pooling in her lower stomach. She was so close, and she was sure another slap would do the job.
“You like feeling used, don’t you?” He asks with a rough chuckle. “Like when I make you cum in the most filthiest ways possible?” With that he lands another harsh smack against her cheek, y/n bites her lip at the contact, shaking beneath him in ecstasy.
“My filthy girl” Harry growls, his hand sliding back to her, his fingers closing around her neck. Y/n grabs onto his forearm as Harry picks up a ruthless pace, his thrusts were so hard and rough that they moved y/n up the bed. His balls were slapping against her ass and her wetness was covering his and her own thighs.
With one final thrust and a squeeze of his fingers, y/n let’s put a high-pitched squeal, her nails digging into Harry’s back as he stills deep inside of her. His cock twitches once then twice before he finally let's go, his seed painting her walls. Y/ns walls contract and squeeze around him, and her fingers begin to play with her clit. The feeling of Harry’s hand squeezing gently around her throat and the way she could still feel the sting of his heavy palm against her cheek mixed with the rhythm of her fingers had her cumming, her wetness gushing out all over Harry.
She was unsure of the sounds leaving her mouth but she knew they were downright pornographic, she could feel Harry’s intense stare as he pulls out and falls onto the bed, beside her. “Did so good for me love” he speaks, pulling y/n into his hold again. Her breathing was still uneven, her heartbeat erratic. Her eyes were closed as she focused on coming down from her high all whilst Harry slowly rubbed her bare arm, leaving kisses here and there on her skin.
Harry also worked on calming his breathing and within a few minutes, it felt as if they were finally both back on earth and not floating in pleasure. “That was-”
“Incredible” y/n finishes off, cuddling into Harry with a smile.
“Yeah, it was, wow. Hope I didn’t actually hurt you though, how’s your cheek?” Harry asked, worry already kicking in as he turned y/n to look at her cheek, his thumb running along the skin gently.
“It’s ok, I promise. I wouldn’t mind if we do it more often” y/n spoke, kissing Harry’s bare chest, she looks back up at him with hope. “I like it rough”
“I do too. If it feels good for you then I’m down to do it again” Harry smiles, kissing y/n's hair before slowly entangling himself from her so he could leave the bed to go get a warm cloth to clean y/n up with.
Summary: Harry is the shy boy in school and y/n boyfriend. She gets to know him over the months and see him growing comfortable around her. So comfortable that he’s ready to make love to her for the first time.
Pairing: shy boyfriend!harry x fem!reader
Trigger warnings: soft dom, use of pet names, light teasing, begging, choking, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, mention of handjob, hair pulling, short mention of scars, protective sex, aftercare
A/N: I don’t write much smut, so it isn’t my best, but it’s soft and caring. Please give me some feedback I appreciate it s lot :) I kinda wanna write more about them
For three months she has been Harry y/n boyfriend. She loves to hang out with him. They always study together at her house or they go on walks.
Y/n noticed how shy he is. When they go out to eat dinner he asks if y/n can order for him. Of course, she says yes. She doesn’t want him to get too nervous around strangers. If he does he picks on his painted fingernails. He’s a good boyfriend, the best she ever had.
Harry hides his hands in the sleeves of his oversized sweaters. That’s one thing she loves about her lover.
Y/n liked him for over two years and finally took the courage to ask him out. She noticed over the two years how he blushed when he talked to his friends about something and often he looked at her. When she was with her ex boyfriend he looked sad and his friends tried to cheer him up all the time. He watched her a lot when she was with his ex lover. He couldn’t help it but always had his eyes on her no matter what.
Harry thought y/n is the most beautiful girl in school. She’s smart, soft, beautiful and so talented. She’s good in art class. He loves her sundresses and her big sweaters. He wants to steal one from her.
There is no reason not to have a crush on her.
"H can I braid your hair?" She asks sweetly. Her eyes scan his face and she sees how his cheeks grew red. It’s adorable to see him like this.
"Y-you want to?" He asks her back in a whisper.
"Mhm, you hide that face too often," and before he knew it his whole face was red. "May I?" She pressed her nose in his temple. He nods. She pulls his grey hood down and can’t help it, but look into his forest green eyes.
Y/n wanted to open his grey cardigan. He laid his hand on y/n. "’M only wearing a shirt, I’ll get cold." His voice comes out in a whisper.
"Okay," she kisses his hot cheek. Y/n love doing his hair. When he allows her girlfriend, she makes her boyfriend some pigtails or braids them. Sometimes she uses just some colourful hair clips. On other days he asks for buns with those colourful hair clips. Sometimes the shy boy asks her to make him some pig tails as well. Harry likes them a lot.
He’s too shy to talk to her on some days, that’s the reason why she always plays music. Y/n parents even talked to her about it and told her to have safe sex. Always use protection and that she doesn't have to do anything that makes her uncomfortable or don’t want to do.
After four months of being Harry’s girlfriend he opens up more. He’s still shy, but it gets better. He kiss y/n soft hair that smells like flowers. He loves smelling her hair or just watching her doing her make-up. He sometimes asks if he can curl her hair and of course she says yes. Harry loves helping her.
Harry brought his girl home one time to show her where her boyfriend lives. "Mom isn’t home don’t worry," he says walking into the kitchen. "Food?" He asks simple, still nervous.
"A yogurt, if I’m allowed to," he nods, taking the yogurt out of the fridge and a spoon with him upstairs.
She looks around watching him change out of his sweater into a long arm shirt. It’s the first time y/n sees how he’s looking under his long clothes. Y/n never really thought about how he looks under his big clothes, maybe a little belly that would be cute. But she never thought he had a trained back.
Y/n unlocked her phone and started to scroll on instagram she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable by looking. "Are ya still hungry?" Harry turns around and looks up at him and shakes her head.
In school her lover let y/n eat with his friends just for a few days in the week. It makes him really nervous. She sat there and ate with them. Harry picked again on his fingernails, "you don’t have to be nervous," she whispers in his ear before kissing him on his cheek. He gives her a simple smile and tangles their fingers.
Harry’s hugs are big, warm and comfortable. He was so shy, but grew more comfortable around her and touched her. He wanted to share physical touch with her. Harry hugs her now, touches her arms sometimes or kisses her face. Or talks a lot more than she was used to.
Today is a day where her boyfriend wants her to stay at his house. His sister is at home and Harry had to introduce y/n to Gemma. "Hi, it’s really nice to meet you. Harry mentioned you a lot." He turns shy, again. Gemma hugged her, they talked a lot. The prince stood by the two girls and held y/n hand patiently. Waiting for y/n to come to his room.
When they went into Harry's room he put some music on and asked y/n for pigtails. She did not put two strands in the braids, because it looks cuter.
H almost dropped his phone, when she pressed her soft lips against the delicate skin of his neck. Harry never admitted it, but he loves tiny neck kisses; it was the tingles that ran down his spine. He loved the intimacy of it. A little moan escaped his soft lips.
She was bold for the first time in their relationship. "S-sorry," she whispers and hides in his neck.
Something snapped in Harry’s head. He doesn’t know she feels that way about him. "Don’t hide from me, pretty girl," he turns his body to her. Harry can see how red her cheeks are. Now she knows how he feels around her.
He puts his hand under your chin and gently till’s her head up. "Hi," she smiles.
"Hi," he kisses her forehead. It's strange for her how gentle he holds her face in his big hands. Her eyes are big and glassy. Even with his pig tails he looks dominant. He freed his hair out of the hair ties.
He wraps his fingers with his rings around her throat and squeezes her sides with light pressure. She curls her fingers around his wrist. No one ever choked her. It's new, but it sends a rush through her body. His grip around her throat gets tighter. She can see the pleasure in his eyes just from choking her.
It’s strange to see his dominant side.
"H-harry?" He loses his grip around her throat. He smirks, he grabs her face between his palms to bring her down to his lips, he kisses her softly for the first time. She’s scared to touch him at the moment. The kiss feels so good, but she’s not sure if it’s okay to touch him now.
"Love?" Harry asks.
"Mhm," he chuckles.
"Can I touch you?" His voice is confident. H’s warm hands are smoothing over her hips. She swallows hard, "it’s okay if you don’t want to," he leans in for a second kiss.
"Do you actually like me?" She asks unsure.
"I can’t stop thinking about you for more than two years. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last when I go to sleep. You’re the best that ever happened to me. You help me a lot. I can’t lose you. I need you in my life. I told my mom about you before we even dated." She hugs him tightly, her eyes are teary. He rubs her back.
"You can," she said quietly, "I‘ve done it only once." She’s insecure about it for no reason. She knows he had more girlfriends in the past so he’s more experienced then her. One of his exes is y/n old friend. She was toxic. Y/n was happy to finally leave her behind. She told her how good he is and what they did even though she knew y/n likes him a lot at that time.
"No sex until you are 100 percent sure," he kisses her temple short. But there is another reason why she feels so insecure about it. "There is still something wrong," he murmured. "What is it?"
Her eyes closed, "you were with Lana and she told me so much stuff, what you did to her." Harry softly kissed her forehead, he stroked her knuckles.
"She was my girlfriend, but I never was intimate with her." Y/n eyes open again. Before her, he wasn’t shy. Maybe she used him, there was a rumour that he has scars on his body. She did something to him. She was never really in love with him. After she left him he was shy and insecure. Her boy won’t be the same. She did something he will never be the same.
She changed him.
"Can we wait a little longer?” He nods short.
Y/n found out after six months that her boyfriend is shy, but loves to take control in the bedroom.
He often finds an excuse why he needs to see her. Is it for homework or a project he wants to help her mostly it ends in a make out session. All he wants is to taste her lips.
H is still so shy around her, but he takes control over her, it makes her feel things. She never thought he could be like this. Not the shy boy.
She loves that about him.
Harry takes y/n out to picnic dates, in the summertime. He surprised her with a lot of dates in the past three weeks. They go book shopping or just go for a walk in the park and feed the ducks.
Harry invited y/n over, he’s alone at home for the next couple of days and he wanted to spend some time with her.
Y/n laid on his bed, he watched the pattern’s of her breathing. He tells her things she never heard before. He asked questions to the ceiling and never knew what she was thinking.
But she liked it, he liked her. He thought a lot about it. He laid his hand on her soft skin and started to stroke her inner thigh, teasingly. He saw how y/n breathing picked up. Her gaze stays on the ceiling above her. His fingers outlined her panties.
Harry loves it when it’s summer and y/n wears skirts and her pretty sundresses. Barney Stinson said it’s never too late to wear sundresses.
"Harry," she whines. His lips leave only a chuckle. It’s mean to tease her, but she looks so cute when she squirms under his touch. He can’t help it.
"Mhm, want me to touch you? Eating you out? You would like that, wouldn’t you?" She nods eagerly. "Words, bunny," he orders.
"Please touch me, need your mouth, please," a smirk grows on his lips. He hooks his fingers in her underwear and pulls her white lace panties down and puts them in his jeans pocket.
He settles his body between her legs and presses some light kisses against her skin. His fingers pull her sundress up to her belly. His plump lips suck eagerly purple bruises into her skin. Y/n reached her hand down to tangle her fingers in between his ringlet’s, "so impatient," he shakes his head and leaves a hickey on her hip bone. His tongue starts with slow board licks, y/n tugs on his hair.
"More please," she whines out. He flicks his tongue skillfully over her clit. She remembers that Harry told her to say what she wants. "C-can you maybe—" she got cut off by a moan.
He lifts his head up, "what do you want to tell me," he teased her by kissing, licking and biting her spread thigh.
"Can y-you maybe, um, suck a-and glide up," Harry nods and hums short. He brings his mouth back down to kiss her clit. The vibrations from the hum shoot through her, with the action she asked for making her eyes roll back in pleasure.
He repeated these actions using the tip of his tongue to play with her clit. All her soft whimpers and moans were music to his ears. He pulled her hips closer to his mouth. One of y/n boyfriend's hands slides down from her soft inner thigh to insert two fingers into her pulsing heat. She immediately clenched down on him. "You taste amazing," he murmurs between each stroke.
Y/n can feel how Harry brings her closer to her climax. "F-fuck…" she whimpers into the air. Her grip on his hair gets stronger, she earns a moan from him. Her legs tighten around his head. "I’m— I’m gonna—" a whiny moan comes over her dedicated lips
"Cum for me, bunny," he said out loud. Some seconds later her mouth leaves pornographic sounds. Y/n eyes are pinched and her mouth hangs open. "Good girl," Harry’s favourite sight. "You okay?" She nods. Harry kissed her hard and shoved his tongue in her mouth to let her taste herself.
“Thank you,” she pulls him down on his neck and keeps him close to her body.
“Can I– can I fuck you?” His voice comes out in a whisper.
“Please,” he opened a brown drawer from his nightstand to look for a condom. Y/n lunches inside, she sees some condoms, lube, tissues and chocolate. “Why chocolate?” She giggled.
“’M hungry after, uh, t–touching myself and too lazy to get something,” his whole face turned red and his voice broke at the end of his sentence. If she asks him, if it’s her she thinks about while doing it, he couldn’t answer her. It's too embarrassing for him. He’ll always be the shy boy around her. Obviously it gets better, but there is a part he always stays like this.
“It’s just me,” she spoke softly to him, kissing his cheeks and seeing some of her juices drip down his chin. “No reason to be nervous, you did amazing.”
“Can I stay dressed? I take off m’jeans and boxers, but not more.” He sounds really insecure, y/n don’t want to ask what it is. Why does he feel like this? She doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Of course she accepts him for who he is. She’s in love with him.
She’ll ask him what he has to hide and why he always wears big clothes at some point.
“Can I help?” He murmurs a quiet “yes” She sits up and fumbles with his belt when she finally undid it, he stands up from his bed and pulls his light blue wide jeans down. Her eyes scan his lower half. A long shirt covers his thighs a bit up. It looks out from under his sweater. “You are so pretty,” a shy smile formed on his swollen lips. H, crawled back between y/n legs.
He lets the loose straps from her dress fall down, “no bra, y’know my birthday isn’t anytime soon.” He smirks at chest. He had an obsession with her boobs. He often just grabs them or hides every bra she left at his house, so she never puts one on and Harry just stares at her chest with a shirt on. He loves them.
Y/n dress hung in her middle, Harry’s boxers lay with his jeans on the clean floor. Y/n gave him a lot of handjobs. But they are both horny teenagers. Knowing he will be inside her is intimidating for her. He’s not small.
He tugs a few times on his cock. “You sure about it?” She whispers a “yes” and takes his soft hand in hers. Y/n have seen him a few times but only a amount of times she can count it on her two hands. He opens the condom and rolls it carefully up. Y/n watched him, his pink tongue always pokes out when he concentrates. “We can stop whenever you want,” he pressed a kiss on her forehead. He grabs the bottle of lube, puts some on his hand and spreads it on the condom.
Her lover noticed how her face scrunched up in pain and he stopped. "Bunny? You alright? Do you want to stop?" He whispers in worry, stroking her cheek softly.
“No you’re just massive.”
“Oh bunny, you never had a cock this big?” She shakes her head, “’M sorry that it hurts.” He pouts and tangles their fingers. “I know you can be a good girl and take it.” His thrusts are slow and gentle. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He wraps her legs around his waist. His shirt and sweater are ridged up. She looks at his beautiful, soft and innocent skin.
The sunlight was bleeding through his curtains. Some whines and moans escaped both of their lips. He kept the pace filling her up to the brim, pleasure filled both of their systems. Harry peppers kisses around her chest, kitten licks her breast. He teasingly took one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked lightly. Each time he did that she moaned. “You are so handsome,” her fingers go through his damp hair.
She wraps her legs tighter around his waist and pulls him in deeper with a soft moan. “You are doing great, angel.” His hand holding her face tilted her up with tenderness, kissing her swollen lips as he ground his hips deeper into her due the new angle.
She stroked his cheekbone, her orgasm came over her. She whines and moans into his mouth and Harry is close too. He can feel his balls tightening, heavy and waiting. Two more thrusts and he shoots his load into the condom. His head drops to y/n shoulder as he rides his orgasm out.
He stayed for a short moment inside her, “Aww, did I wear you out, love?” She nods lightly and covers her chest up, he then pulls out of her. He throws the condom into the bin and returns with a warm washcloth and wipes the mess between her legs, clean.
Harry helps her to put on some of his boxers and slides the dress down from her middle. He puts a shirt over her body, “I am officially obsessed with your body.” She hasn't seen his body completely yet but she knows it makes him feel good about himself.
“Hungry?” He asks her while pressing soft kisses against her forehead and cheeks.
“Can we eat some chicken nuggets?” She kisses all over his face, brings him down on his neck holding him close. Y/n don’t want him to leave her for bringing food. She knows it’s important for him to take proper care of her.
“I must say I’m the slightest bit offended that we just had the hottest sex ever and you’re thinking about chicken nuggets,” he chuckles and sees the biggest smile on her plump ips. He went downstairs, put some dinosaur nuggets into the oven. When he comes back he sees y/n snuggled up in his bed with his teddy in her arms. “Love, I have your nuggets,” she opens her eyes, lazily grabs the water glass and drinks it. She eats a nugget. Harry ate some as well.
She kisses his chest and murmurs, "you are the best boyfriend ever,” before drifting off to sleep in his arms.
He whispers in her hair, “I love you,” but she didn’t hear it. She’s asleep. “You’re the best that ever happened to me.” He pulls her closer to his chest and kisses her forehead one last time before he falls asleep as well.
Pleasing (grumpy h blurb)
In which Harry's acting kinda grumpy, and y/n helps him... destress. :)
Harry’s hand slams onto his phone, muting the blaring chimes of his 6 AM alarm. His head hurts and his eyes are heavy, and the thought of having to get out of bed, get dressed, and go to a business meeting when it’s still dark outside makes his feel physically ill.
He’s tired… beyond tired. Last night had been another one of his annual “In-Chef nights.” He’d been up on his feet, cooking meal after meal from 6 PM all the way until midnight, and had then spent an additional two hours with his staff cleaning up. He’d driven home in the cold rain, and didn’t even have enough energy to change into his pajamas when he got home. He just stripped down to his briefs, and collapsed into his bed.
Running on barely four hours of sleep, he’s feeling cranky and miserable and irritable. The sound of his alarm has been nagging at him through three snooze cycles, and he knows if he stays in bed any longer, he’s going to be running late.
He forces himself to blink his eyes open. He feels gross and sluggish, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, and letting out a loud groan. The early morning meeting he has today isn’t even one that he’s excited for… he hates the constructors that are helping him open a new Pleasing location in New York. They’re bad communicators, and always make mistakes in the plans that they’ve made. Harry’s a very particular man, he’s picky about the way his food is cooked, a neat freak in his home, and has an organized schedule that he never strays from. So working with these incompetent people, who somehow always manage to royally fuck something up… god it really gets Harry frustrated.
He yanks the blanket off of himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His feet meet the floor, and it’s ice cold. Great.
This is just fucking great.
“Jesus fucking christ.”
Harry takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes to calm himself. It doesn’t work. His nostrils are flaring and his eyes have turned a dark, angry shade of green. “I fuckin’ said last week that I wanted gas stoves. So why is there an order for six electric stove tops?”
Ian, the contractor, fumbles in front of Mr. Styles, cheeks turning red. “Uh-um, t-the installation of the electric stoves was cheaper.”
“What did I explicitly ask for,” Harry seethes.
“Err– t-the gas–”
“So what in your right mind made you think that I’d be okay with this?”
“I– well, sir, we just wanted to go with the option that was more affordable–”
“Do you think I give a fuck which one is cheaper?” Harry yells. “For fuck’s sake, I’m running a multi-million business!” He slams the papers he’d been holding onto the desk in front of him and stands up angrily, his chair scratching loudly against the hardwood floors. “Get this fixed, today,” he says before storming out of the conference room and slamming the door behind him.
He locks himself into his office, and sits in his chair, rubbing his red-veined eyes. He’s too tired to have to deal with all this shit today. How hard is it for people to follow instructions? His life would be so much easier if everyone else didn’t fuck up so much.
He sits there for a few minutes with his head in his hands, fingers still rubbing at his eyes to try and soothe away the burning feeling he feels every time he opens them. His head is starting to hurt, a pounding migraine so intense that he can feel his heartbeat in his ears, and his stomach hurts. All he had to eat today was a black coffee before he went into that horrific meeting five hours ago.
Yes, the one hour meeting they had planned had ended up taking five hours instead. He literally had to clear his schedule to fix all the fucking mistakes that they were making. They’d chosen the wrong tiles for the floor, ordered the wrong stove tops for the kitchen, and had designed all of the countertops to be one inch too low… it literally pained him to be working with such incompetent designers.
And now he was behind on his work.
He lets out a tired sigh and turns on his desktop, opening his emails. The bright screen makes his eyes sting, and he has to squint to read the tiny word on the screen. He scrambles around in his drawers and finds his reading glasses, but still, the words blur together and make his head hurt. He bares with the pain, and spends an hour or so responding to emails and filling out paperwork, until there’s a knock at his door.
“What is it?” he calls out a bit snappily, not looking up from his paperwork.
He hears the door jiggle, trying to open but struggling against the lock. “It’s me, Mr. Styles!”
Immediately, he puts his pen down and unlocks the door for his sweet y/n to come in. She’s holding a plate of food for him, and looks up at him with her pretty smile, cheeks warm and dimpled with kindness.
“Hey puppy,” he murmurs, surprised. She hadn’t come in for the majority of this week because she had finals. In fact, she just had her physics final just this morning.
“Hi!” she says enthusiastically, entering his office. “Teddy told me that you’ve been here since 8, n’that you haven’t eaten anything all day.” She looks up at him with her adorable bambi eyes, “How come you’re allowed to scold me for not eating enough at work when you’re skipping meals too?”
He smiles lightly, “you’re right puppy, that’s hypocritical of me.”
“Very hypocritical,” she nods resolutely. “So, I brought you some food! I had Teddy make it, ‘cos I know he’s your favorite.”
His stomach growls at the sight of the fettuccini alfredo in front of him. He’s starving but he’d been way too caught up in his work to think about getting up to get himself any food. “Thank you,” he says, taking the plate from her and picking up her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles.
“It smells yummy, so I want some too,” she says, sitting down on the chair behind his desk. “But we gotta eat it quick, ‘cos I’m supposed to get back out there in five minutes.”
“Thought you weren’t meant to come in today?” he says, sitting down next to her.
“I wasn’t scheduled,” she says, shoving a forkful of the pasta into her mouth, “but then Grace texted me asking if I could cover for her. She got the flu.”
Harry hums, grabbing a tissue from his desk, and wipes off the little bit of white sauce clinging onto y/n’s lips, her mouth full of deliciously creamy and garlicky pasta. “How were your exams?”
She rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Don’t talk about it. So hard, but everyone else said it was super hard too, so hopefully there’s a fat curve.” She claps her hands excitedly, “But at least I’m done! No more school for the rest of the month!!!”
Despite his initial grumpy mood, he can’t help the smile that graces his face. His girlfriend is literally the cutest thing in the world, especially when she gets all giddy and excited like this. She’d been really stressed out and MIA all week because of her exams, so it’s refreshing to see his lively and happy y/n again.
“So proud of you puppy,” he says, cupping her cheek and giving her a kiss.
She twirls a forkful of pasta for Harry and feeds it to him. “Are we gonna hang out tonight?” she asks.
“Of course. Need t’cuddle tonight, you’ve been so busy I feel neglected.” Just sitting with y/n for a few minutes has already calmed Harry down, the stress in his body fizzling away.
She giggles cutely. “Okay baby. We can spend alllll night together.”
The ache in his stomach fades away after finishing the pasta that y/n brought for him, and after popping an advil, he feels his headache start to slowly go away as well. He’d gotten an email that the gas stove tops had been returned and that an order for the electric ones had been put in, so he’s feeling more relaxed about that as well.
He lounges around in his office until y/n is done with her shift, and they sneak out the back exit to head home together. He’s got a one hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on her thigh, and he’s feeling much better than he was this morning when he’d been all grumpy and stressed out.
When they get to a stop light, his phone rings. He thinks nothing of it when he picks up, not even looking at the caller id. “Hello?” he answers casually.
“Er– Hi, Mr. Styles.”
Harry rolls his eyes. It’s Ian on the phone. “What’s going on?” he says tersely.
“Um… so we figured out the stove issue, which is great…”
The light turns green. “Okay…?” Harry says, slightly annoyed.
“So… well– the stove company said that the shipment is gonna take a few weeks, which is gonna put the construction schedule behind since we can’t install the countertops until we put the stoves in, which means…” Harry sighs in disappointment, already knowing what’s coming. “Well, it means that the restaurant might not be ready for the opening date that we’d set.”
“Ian,” Harry’s knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel, and he’s using every cell in his body to keep his voice steady so that he doesn’t start yelling in front of y/n. “When I signed that contract with you, didn’t we agree it would be done in three months?”
“I– yes, it’s really unfortunate–” Ian stammers, but Harry cuts him off.
“I don’t want to hear fuckin’ excuses,” Harry bites. “We signed a contract.”
“Sir, I don’t know what to tell you,” Ian says casually.
“How about we start with the fact that this issue could’ve been completely avoided had you simply followed the plan that we had agreed upon?” Harry’s voice is steadily rising, an angry fire to his tone. “Or how much money you’ve already cost me from all the mistakes you’ve made? I signed a contract and I expect the deadline to be met. It’s far too late to push back the opening of the restaurant.”
“It’s out of my control–” Ian tries to explain, but Harry won’t hear it.
“Jesus christ, do I need to do everything for you?” Harry bursts. “Call the company and tell them the delivery is for Harry Styles! Figure it out with the investors, pay them extra! We will not be pushing the date back, not when we’ve already invested so much into it.” Harry hangs up the phone angrily and throws it into his lap. “Fucking hell,” he breathes angrily.
Y/n sits next to him quietly, her eyes wide. “Everything okay?” she asks timidly.
“S’fine,” he bristles tersely, pulling into his parking spot. He puts the car in park and gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him with such aggression that y/n winces for the car.
Scrambling behind him like a little puppy, she follows him into his penthouse. There’s an angry furrow in his brow as they ride up the elevator, and his lips are pressed together in a frustrated line as he types out a message on his phone. He storms into the kitchen without even glancing at y/n, and pours himself a glass of ice cold water to maybe help himself calm down.
Y/n stands shyly behind the kitchen counter, not saying anything but watching him quietly.
“Just a second, puppy,” he says, his tone impatient and clipped, pushing past her to head into his home office. He dials the number of one of his restaurant’s business partners on the phone, and spends nearly half an hour figuring out what they were going to do.
“I want a new fuckin’ contractor,” Harry rants.
His partner. Niall, gives out a hearty laugh, “I know mate, but don’t worry. I’ll figure it out for ya. I know the guys over there, I’ll give ‘em a ring and see if they can get your appliances sent over any quicker.”
“Thank you,” he mutters gratefully. Finally, there was someone who knew how to get shit done. He hangs up the phone and runs his fingers through his hair frustratedly. His headache is back and his neck and shoulders hurt from being so tense.
Y/n knocks on his office door, and he sighs heavily. “Not now, puppy, v’got to send some emails.”
She steps in, despite the fact that he’s dismissed her, with sad eyes and a pout on her lips. “If this is how it’s gonna be all night then… I’m just gonna go home.”
His eyes snap up. “What?”
“You’re working and being all… grumpy,” she says quietly. “So I’m gonna get an uber.”
“Y/n, don’t be like that.” He looks at her with an exasperated look. “Something important came up, v’got to deal with it.”
“I’m not trying to be like anything,” she shrugs. “You’re stressed out and you don’t wanna talk, so I feel like I’m just annoying you by being here.”
“Baby…” he sighs, rolling away from his desk and getting up to go stand in front of her. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest in a shy, almost protective manner, and she has her bag hanging off of her shoulder, fully prepared to leave. Standing in front of her, he can see the sadness in her eyes. “Don’t go, m’sorry.”
“I know you’re upset…” she whispers, looking down at the floor, “but that doesn’t give you the right to be snappy with me. It hurts my feelings.”
Oh, his precious girl, so sweet and sensitive. His heart breaks a little bit, knowing that he’d made her sad… he’d been so caught up in his own stress that he’d neglected her feelings. He knows that she was probably so excited to come over after having finished all her exams… and he knows that she’s sensitive. She gets teary eyed whenever someone uses a stern voice with her, cries for days if she ever gets yelled at. Of course it would hurt her when he pushes her aside and snaps at her to leave him alone.
He pulls her into his chest, “Sweetheart, you’re right, m’sorry. I shouldn’t be takin’ it out on you, you’ve done nothing but been sweet t’me all day.” She’d brought food for him when he was hungry, was cheerful and lovely on the car ride home, and had tried to talk to him when he was upset… only to get pushed away at the end of the night.
“I wanna stay, but not if you’re gonna be mean,” she says into his chest.
He presses a kiss to her hair, “no, m’done puppy. Not gonna be mean, promise. Please, stay?”
She looks up at him and smiles softly. “Okay,” she puckers her lips and leans up for a quick kiss. “Thank you.”
He smooths his hand over her hair, and rests his head atop her cheek, still hugging her close. She’s warm and smells sweet… holding her in his arms is all he wants to do for the rest of his life.
“How about I go take a shower while you send your emails, and then we can go to bed?” she suggests, pulling away.
He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. No more emails tonight, I can send them in the morning.” It’s late at night anyways, it wouldn’t make a difference if he sent them now or tomorrow.
“M’getting in that shower with you.”
In the shower, y/n washes away all of Harry’s stress and worries. She lathers up the loofah with the rose scented body wash that she keeps in his shower, and rubbed it all over his chest and back and biceps. She even went so far as to lift his arms above his head and scrub his armpits for him, making Harry cackle at how silly she was.
Then, she took his yummy smelling shampoo and had him bend down so that she could wash his hair for him. She threaded her fingers through his hair and scratched at his scalp deliciously, scrubbing his hair as though he were getting spoiled at the salon. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the foamy shampoo dripped down his forehead, but she always made sure to rinse the bubbles away before they got into his eyes.
They got out and dried themselves together, standing in front of Harry’s heater in their towels for a few minutes while y/n brushed her hair. He changed himself into only a pair of boxers, while y/n opted to skip on undergarments (it’s very important to let ur pussy breathe!!!), putting on only a pair of thin sleep shorts and one of Harry’s huge t-shirts.
“M’gonna give you a massage,” she tells Harry once they’re both changed, shoving him onto the bed. He chuckles to himself at her weak attempt to manhandle him, but complies easily, settling onto his stomach so that she could straddle his back. She squirts some lotion onto her hands and warms it up between her palms, then rubs it smoothly onto Harry’s broad and muscular back.
“Mm, thank you baby,” he groans. “So good t’me.”
It’s all innocent at first – y/n knows that Harry was stressed out and probably super tense, so she thought giving him a nice massage to work out the knots in his shoulders would be nice. But, of course, with Harry shirtless underneath her, it’s hard for her thoughts to stay completely pure.
Harry’s so strong and muscled… it’s so hot. He feels firm underneath her hands, her palms smoothing over the ridges and curves of the muscles in his toned back. His shoulders are broad and his biceps look huge, even without being flexed or anything. The skin of his back is warm and smooth… so soft and tan. Her mouth waters as she rubs her hands up and down his back.
Her fingers find his shoulders and she kneads them deeply, which makes Harry let out a loud groan. His shoulders are particularly tense, and her little fingers are rubbing the tight knots in them so nicely. “Harder baby,” he grunts, and she obliges. Her thumbs dig deep into the meat of his shoulders and rub in slow, painful circles.
She uses all her strength to massage him. He’s so built, every inch of his back covered with hard muscles, that it takes a lot of energy to really get in there. She has to put her entire weight into her hands and press deep onto his back. Luckily, the lotion made it easy for her to glide over his skin and knead his sore muscles. The groans that he lets out tell her which spots to focus on.
His eyes are shut, eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. It hurts so good. His cock has started to plump up a bit, twitching every time her delicate fingers knead a particularly painful knot in his back. She keeps rubbing him, digging her fingers into his muscles, and the pressure in his cock grows unbearable.
He flips himself around, unable to deal with it any longer. Y/n gasps at his sudden movement, then finds herself short of breath when she settles herself back down on his lap and feels how hard he is underneath her. Straddling his hips in nothing but her little, thin pair of sleep shorts, she can feel him… feels the curve of his cock, restrained in his boxers, and feels the ridge of his tip nudging against her clit. She’s sure that he can probably feel her pussy too, feel every fold and the tiny bud of her clit.
He smirks up at her when her little pussy flutters around nothing, twitching so delicately against his clothed cock. Her center feels hot, keeping him warm while she sits prettily atop him. “Keep going baby…” he says, voice low and dangerous. “M’arms hurt so much, can you rub ‘em for me?”
He pouts up at her, but it’s a mocking pout. He knows exactly what she’s thinking about, and it’s much more filthy than his innocent request for an arm massage.
Nonetheless, she squirts some more lotion on her hands and brings them down to his strong biceps. He’d been to the gym yesterday for arms, so he wasn’t lying when he said they were sore. But also, that means they’re particularly pumped today, firm and delicious… y/n just wants to bite them.
His hands rest on her hips while she rubs her palms up and down his arms, his thumbs tracing soft circles onto the skin of thigh where her shorts have ridden up. She looks like she’s intently focused on rubbing his arms, but really, she can’t stop thinking about the way his cock feels underneath her. He subtly grips her hips and presses her down harder onto the hard bulge in his pants, and lets out a strained breath through his nose. Y/n similarly feels her breath catch in her throat, her hands pausing momentarily as she flutters her eyes shut.
“Feels so good baby,” he murmurs when her hands migrate up to massage his chest, rubbing circles over his swallows and tracing over his butterfly delicately. It’s a not-so subtle innuendo to fuel the fire of the sexual tension burning between the two of them right now.
The hands on her hips start to slide upwards, under her shirt to rest on her warm tummy. He can see the soft peaks of her nipples poking through the shirt she’s wearing. “Baby… show me y’pretty tits, please?” he begs. He slides his hands even higher until his fingers graze the undersides of her breasts. “Had such a long day, I deserve a treat don’ I?”
“Y-yeah,” she agrees softly, taking her shirt off and throwing it onto the floor. She’s left topless, her perky nipple peaking in the cold air of Harry’s bedroom, and her wet pussy pressed firmly to his hard cock.
She continues rubbing his chest with her tits out, and Harry takes it upon himself to do the same to her. He plays with her tits, holds them in his palms and rubs his thumbs over her hard nipples. Still, it’s not enough.
“Come closer, baby,” he murmurs lowly, guiding her forward. She inches forward slowly, back arching while holding herself up with her arms, until her boobs are hanging in front of Harry’s face.
He sticks his tongue out and leans up, attaching himself to her nipple and sucking it into his mouth gently. His tongue licks the soft bud gently, and he hums happily. “Mmm, baby, so nice to me,” he mutters, switching to her other nipple, “Lettin’ daddy play with your pretty tits ‘cos I had a long day.” Hand engulfs the breast that he’d just hand in his mouth, palming it gently while his tongue plays with the other. His teeth skim her soft skin gently, and he starts sucking. Each purse of his lip and pass of his tongue sends a shock straight down to y/n’s center, and she’s absolutely, totally drenched. Her heart is beating erratically in her chest, and she can’t help herself before grinding herself down.
Since she’s lifted herself up to align her tits with Harry’s face, she’s no longer sitting on his bulge, but instead now sitting on the butterfly painted on his abdomen. She presses herself onto his abs, soothing the dull ache that comes each time he hums around her breast.
Her boobs are so plump and plushy, dangling in front of his mouth and covered in his spit. His hands grope her chest sensually, pushing her breasts into his face and letting himself indulge like a teenage boy. He lets them bounce on his face, skimming his lips against them then pulling himself back, teasing himself. He nudges his nose against them, and they jiggle prettily right in front of his face. God, he’s making himself so hard, playing with her tits like this, having them all up in his face. All he can see is her skin, the roundness of her breasts, the soft bud of her nipples. No matter which way he turns his head, he makes contact with her, her nipples skimming his cheeks or his lips dancing against her sideboob.
“Jus-” she gasps when he takes her boob back between his lips and sucks, tongue curling around her nipple, “Jus’ wanna make you happy daddy.”
“Doing so good baby, taking caring of me so well,” he murmurs, barely moving his lips from her skin before reattaching to her areola. “You know what would make daddy so happy?”
“W-what?” she whimpers, pushing her clit down against his hard abs.
“If you got on my cock and got yourself off. Could you do that for me, puppy?”
She nods eagerly and shuffles herself down, shoving Harry’s briefs down. His cock bounces up and slaps against his stomach, the tip completely slick with his own precum and arousal. She doesn’t even bother warming herself or Harry up – the massage and his little play session had gotten both of them 100% ready.
She doesn’t take her sleep shorts off, genuinely too excited to stuff herself full of his cock. Grabbing him by the shaft, she hovers right over his hips and slowly guides him into her dripping cunt. The slide in is easy, absolutely no resistance from how wet she is, and she’s able to bottom out on the first go.
Her hands rest on his chest to support herself, and she starts to lift her hips, up and down, skin meeting skin with every drop down. Her nails dig into his flesh, and it hurts just as good as her massage had. She’s riding him like she never has before – usually she’s a bit of a princess, mostly grinding her clit down and rubbing herself on his cock slowly until her thighs start to burn and she whines for Harry to take over.
Now though, with the way he’d teased her all nice, she’s bouncing on his cock properly, using all her strength to pull herself all the way up, then drop back down. She sets a messy pace for herself, but it doesn’t matter. He’s hitting all the right spots in her, and that’s all she care about.
Harry lies on his back in bliss, her pussy absolute heaven around his cock. Her messy pace and high bounces have her tits jiggling, and Harry pushes himself up onto his elbows to get a better view. “Fuck, puppy, you’re an angel.”
He brings a hand down to rub her at her clit, fingers rubbing tight circles as she grinds herself on him. “Gonna cum baby,” he groans, “Are you close?”
She whines out, and nods messily, eyes shut as she keeps herself going.
Harry throws his head back, and shuts his eyes, rubbing her clit faster and faster until she’s cumming, clenching around his cock and squeezing him so tightly. His vision goes white his ears start to ring, and he’s in absolute heaven.
Y/n collapses onto his chest, and he spurts out long streaks of cum into her warm pussy, balls clenching with every release and his hips twitching upwards, trying to get as deep into her as he possibly can. She lays on top of him heavily, breathing hard with rosy cheeks and a glistening forehead from how hard she’d worked to get them both to their end.
He pulls her up for a kiss. What had he even been stressed about, again?
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FORGET ME NOT
↳ In which Y/ns a baker and Harry’s the bad boy trying to get under her skin
Warnings: Slightly angsty and a confrontation as well as some grovelling. Hope you enjoy this, please remember to send some asks about the fic and to reblog! I appreciate it
Everything was in order. Cakes were baked, the dough was kneaded and the cookies were in the oven. The air was scented sweetly from all the baking y/n had been doing since the early hours of the calm and quiet winter morning. The sweet smell of the baked goodies was pungent yet fresh. It was a scent the locals absolutely adored.
Some would say business isn’t as good in the winter as it is in the summer but y/n would disagree. For her, and everyone else in the small town, business was good all year around. Everyone had their role in the town, some people settled on growing crops for the rest of the town whilst others, like y/n herself, settled on making the actual food/goodies people would eat.
Y/n hummed the tune of a song lightly, busying herself on decorating the cupcakes she had baked earlier. She swirled the tip of the icing bag around with ease, expertly icing edible flowers and patterns onto the cakes. She was on the fifth cupcake when she heard the bell placed on top of the front door to her bakery ring, indicating that someone was walking in.
As she looked up, she was met by the local librarian, Ms Anne. A smile crept onto y/ns face as she walked over to the counter to greet her first customer of the day.
“Hello darling” Anne spoke, a smile on her sweet face. She looked around at the variety of baked goods in front of her and inhaled deeply. “It smells lovely in here, as always”
“Hello, Ms Anne! How are you doing today?” Y/n asked, leaning against the counter. Ms Anne was a legend according to y/n, not only did she have an impressive library but she was also the sweetest, softly-spoken woman she has ever come across. Granted they lived in a small town so didn’t really meet a lot of people, but y/n was convinced Anne was one of the greats. Too bad her son couldn’t follow in her footsteps, she always thought.
“I’m doing alright, just came in to get the cake I ordered last week” Anne spoke, reminding y/n of the order which she totally forgot about.
“Oh, um, which cake?” Y/n asks, a sweat breaking on her forehead at the fact that she’s completely forgotten Anne’s order.
“The one for Harry? Remember, it’s his birthday cake” the older lady replied, if she has realised that y/n has forgotten to bake the cake, she doesn’t show it.
“Oh shit” the younger of the two curses, slamming her palm against her forehead. “I’m so sorry, fuck. I can’t believe I forgot about it. I can still get it done for today though, what time do you need it by?”
“Hey, it’s okay” Anne soothes softly, placing her hand over y/ns in a gentle manner. “Things happen, it’s okay. The party isn’t till 6 pm, would that be enough time?”
“Yeah that should be fine” y/n replies, her teeth tugging on her bottom lips “I’m so sorry again Ms Anne. I don’t know how it slipped out of my mind, it’s so unprofessional” she spoke, shaking her head at herself.
“Seriously darling, it’s ok, I promise” Anne smiles, slowly soothing y/ns worry and guilt. “I’ll send Harry to collect the cake around 5, is that fine?”
“Yeah that’ll be perfect, I’m sorry once again” y/n replies and Anne chuckles softly, once again reminding the younger of the two that it’s ok before she walks out.
Great. Now not only does y/n have to work under stress due to her own actions but she’ll also have to see Harry.
It takes Y/n approximately 4 hours to finish the cake, she baked the red velvet that was requested in the initial request and used royal blue icing to coat it. She drew on a yellow car, a nod to Harry’s career as the local mechanic, with some buttercream icing and wrote “Happy birthday Harry” in red icing.
Just as she puts the cake in the fridge, she hears the bell. Today had been a quiet day at the bakery which y/n was so grateful for, it meant that she could finish off the cake rather than entertain customers.
As she turns around to face the counter, she’s face to face with Harry, a smug grin on his face. He looked as annoyingly handsome as always, his curious emerald eyes trailing up and down her body. “Hey” he let out, his voice was a lot deeper since the last time Y/n had heard it, all the way back in school when they were best pals. Alas, things change, and people change.
“Hi,” she replies, staring back into his eyes.
He chuckles, “of course, it’s my cake you forget about.”
“It slipped my mind, ok, I’ve got other orders too you know” Y/n sasses back.
“Let’s hope you don’t forget them too” he challenges, one thing about Harry it was that he loved getting a rise out of people, especially y/n. It’s what caused that big fight all those years back to happen. Harry taunts people and y/n isn’t the type to stay quiet when that happens to her.
“I would never do that to them” Y/n hisses, putting an emphasis on the them to really get her point across. One thing Y/n couldn’t handle was when people came at her for her job, she was good at it, one of the best bakers in town and she deserved the respect.
“Nice to see you’re as feisty as always” he speaks, biting back a chuckle at the way he was annoying y/n. He loved the way y/ns forehead creased and the little burrow in her brows every time he annoyed her.
“And you’re a dick as always” she replies with a roll of her eye as she turns back towards the fridge to take the cake out and give Harry so he could leave as soon as possible.
“It’s funny, every time I see you, you’re always on about my dick. If you really want it, all you have to do is ask” Harry smirks causing y/n to groan.
“You’re so disgusting. There’s a difference between talking about your dick and calling you a dick” she argues, placing the cake on the counter and pushing it towards Harry.
“Wow, you’ve done a decent job. Thought I was going to get cake crumbs or something” he chuckles, pulling out his wallet to pay for the cake.
“It’s what you deserve but Anne’s much too nice of a lady and I couldn’t do that to her” Y/n smiles, sending daggers to Harry as he places the money in her hand. She puts the money away and waits for Harry to go.
“Thanks for the cake, sweet pea” he smiles and turns to leave, but he turns around again. “Look, I know I’m a dick, but I'm really sorry” he says, a look of guilt clouding his eyes.
“For?” Y/n asks, honestly taken aback that he sucked up his ego to apologise.
“For everything, all those years I treated you like shit. I didn’t deserve you as my best bud back then, you were amazing and I’m sorry for how our friendship ended.” He says, y/n knew Harry, she could tell the look on his face was genuine. He was actually feeling bad.
“Yeah yeah, it’s ok” y/n replies, not knowing how to act especially since he was walking right up to her. He smiles, but he can tell the conflicted look on y/ns face. Harry’s heart aches at the pain he had caused her the past years, how he treated her like shit, taunting her and essentially bullying her. He swears it was all friendly but he didn’t understand the impacts stuff like that could have until he was here, looking into y/n's eyes.
His own eyes soften as he leans down and places a soft kiss on her cheek before he whispers a quiet sorry into her ear. All y/n does is nod, she genuinely forgives him, and with that, he’s out the door. To nobody’s surprise, y/n needs a few seconds to compose herself before she’s back to work, her mind still wandering off to how soft his lips felt on her skin.
The next morning as y/n opens up her bakery, she hears the bell and looks up to see the postman. He was holding a bouquet and softly placed it on the counter. “Special little delivery for you hun” he speaks with a smile and y/n thanks him, waiting for him to leave before she examines the flowers.
They were Forget-me-nots from Gemma’s florist shop and instantly she knew who it was from, Gemma was Harry’s sister.
When she tugged out the little note, it wrote “I mean it, I’m sorry. Let’s try this again?” Below that was Harry’s personal number and without another thought, Y/n saved it into her phone before placing the forget-me-nots in the empty vase on the counter with a smile on her face.
2022 Fic Favorites!
Here are some of our favorite fics from 2022 and some we continue to reread!
American Honey- @londonbelow
Under Summer Skies - @helladirections
In My Feelings - @harrystylescherry
You’re Someone I Just Want Around- @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy and @sunflowervolvimp3
Peaches and Cream- @atlafan
The Witching Hour- @moonchildstyles
Baby Honey- @finelinevogue
Mixed Signals- @gurugirl
Don’t Worry Darling- @shroombloomm
Flower Girl- sushirrrry
Informed Consent- alisonfelix
Lucky Penny- alisonfelix
here's a blurb about 2014 y/n and harry getting freaky in the shower and then niall walks in and realizes you're in there together
warning: hand stuff
"You're so pretty," he hummed to you, hand cupping your cheek.
"I love you," you smiled up at him.
He smiled back and leaned down, mumbling against your lips, "I love you too."
His lips molded against yours, tongue slipping out and tasting you. The hot water ran across your and Harry's skin, melting away the chaos that came with joining Harry and the boys on tour. It was fun, but it was stressful. This was one of the rare moments you had Harry all to yourself and you were cherishing it.
Your arms were wrapped around his neck, your pink, painted fingernails running through his wet locks and massaging his scalp. Your lips continued to move against his as he deepened your kisses, His hands began to roam your naked body, feeling every inch of your soft skin.
His hands soon moved south and cupped your bum, squeezing it tightly. You felt your abdomen tighten with excitement before you whispered desperately to your boyfriend, "Touch me."
"Gladly," he smirked against your lips, his right hand moving towards your front and landing exactly where you want him to be.
His fingers moved back and forth across your clit, exactly the way that he's learned you like. You hummed against his lips in acknowledgment that you enjoyed it, now gripping onto his locks as the knot in your stomach began to tighten.
His free hand grabbed onto your thigh, lifting it onto his waist for better access to you. You held onto each other tightly, keeping you in position as his fingers began to move lower. He easily slipped two fingers in and you couldn't help the moan that left your lips. He began thrusting his fingers in and out of you, curling them up with each entrance.
His fingers were magical. He knew all the right spots to push you over the edge and you knew it wouldn't be long before you were trying to resist the urge to scream his name while he made you release.
All of the sudden, you heard the door open and Niall's thick accent fill the bathroom, "Harry?"
Both of your bodies stilled, eyes widening and heartbeats racing as Harry quickly replied, "what?"
"Paul needs us downstairs for a meeting."
"'bout what?" he replied, gently and quietly slipping his fingers out of you and urging you on both feet again.
"No fuckin' clue."
"Okay, I'll be there in 10," he answered.
"And where's Y/N? I didn't see 'er in the room." Niall asked curiously.
"Erm, sh-she's," he made a panicked face at you as you tried to urge him to come up with a quick excuse but he failed, stifling a giggle, "erm, she's in..."
"Jesus," Niall fake gagged as soon as he spotted your clothes on the bathroom floor, "she's in there with you, oh my god."
The door immediately slammed shut and Harry erupted into laughter and you wanted to actually die of embarrassment.
"Harry, what the hell is wrong with you!" you scolded, "why didn't you just say I went to get food or something?"
"I dunno, I blanked," he replied, giggles still erupting from his lips.
"Oh my gosh, that's so embarrassing. I can't ever leave this room ever again. Poor Niall's probably scarred for life."
"Oh he's fine, he didn't see anything," he grinned, before pulling you into him again and caressing you, "come kiss me"
"No, I'm getting out," you replied, pushing him off of you and beginning to step out of the shower.
"Baby, c'mon," he urged, continuing to giggle at the events that just happened prior.
"Nope. Mood ruined."
imagine older harry:
- making dinner for you after a hard day and a nice make out sesh in the bubble bath, and a massage that leads to more
- him getting jealous when you attend a party with people your age and gives you hickeys in the bathroom so everyone knows you belong to him!
- you’re picking up crocheting and he comes home and finds yarn (or whatever is used) all over the living room and you’re very focused on it. after he comes up to you, you guys make dinner together. FAST FORWARD WEEKS LATER: she surprises him with a cute blanket with hearts all over and he loves it + tears up
i am such a bad writer but have many ideas lmao. i hope these help you write about older!harry!!
all the love <3
Thank you for all the ideas, I’ll definitely write the others too
Trigger warnings: a bit angst, jealousy
“Are you going to tell me why you look so breathtaking? I would bend you over this table right now,” y/n smiles shyly. She gets all shy when Harry says stuff like that. They do it most of the time, but the breathtaking is something she never heard from her boyfriend.
“I’m going to a party. Is that okay?” She looks at the ground, she doesn't know how he will react to these questions.
Harry tilts her head up, “You’re not asking me for permission, do you?” He looks shocked. He presses a kiss on her lips, “Never do that again, you don’t have to ask me,” he whispers against her lips.
“I just thought—”
“Stop thinking, enjoy yourself a bit,” he rests his hands on her hips. “Should I come with you?” She nodded her head once again shyly.
Y/n enjoys the party, Harry is sitting at the bar and drinking a glass of scotch. She walks over to her lover, he can already say she’s tipsy. She is dancing with a few of her friends, they thought it would be a good idea to have some fun. He understands she’s always so exhausted from work or is hanging out with Harry.
“H, that’s my new friend,” she held the hand of a guy. “His name is Miles,” she smiles proudly at the new friend.
“Hi mate,” he waves to him.
“Excuse us for a second,” Harry places his glass on the counter, resting his hand on her lower back. Harry walks forward to the bathroom.
“You don’t have to be jealous,” she smiles.
“I’m not jealous, he’s younger. What if something happens to you?” He raises an eyebrow. He opens the door for y/n then he gets in.
Her back rests against the cold wall, she wraps her arms around his neck, and her hands are in his Harry. Harry presses sloppy kisses onto her neck. “I don’t want you to be around guys your age,” he breathes against your neck, his breath hitting your skin.
“God, you’re so jealous.” She mumbles. He sucks harshly on your neck. His grip on her hips tightened. “I won’t hook up with any of them, you’re my boyfriend,” he licks over the fresh hickey. Harry sucks one more hickey onto her neck. “If this is about—”
“Stop talking,” he mutters. Of course, it was about his ex, he didn't want to get hurt again. He wants to be with her, marry her and maybe have kids. He fell so hard for her. Harry relaxes, he wipes with the back of his hand his spit away. On his lips is a huge smile as he sees what he did. Y/n walks over to the mirror in the little restroom, she touches the marks he made.
“How am I supposed to hide them?” She looks through the mirror into his eyes. “You’re a jerk, and stop with the cocky smirk,” she slaps his chest.
“I don’t like your tone young lady,” he whispers into her ear.
“Shut up, you’re marking me, like I’m yours,” she spits out.
“You are mine,” he mutters. He leaves the bathroom. It takes y/n a while to get out, she wipes with her fingertips over the marks some of them hurt.
She walks out of the restroom, she places herself next to Harry. “I’m sorry,” he isn’t used to apologizing to someone, especially y/n. He wants her to be happy but she is upset.
“Save it, Styles,” she takes a sip from his scotch.
“No, I’m really sorry. I am just scared you’ll find someone better, I have always this fear I might be too old for you,” he rubs his thumb over her hickeys. “Do they hurt?” He asks softly.
“Some of them, you’re not too old. H you have the right age for me,” he kisses his cheek. “May I?” She points at the dance floor.
“Don’t ask for my permission.” She walks back to her friends.
“I love you,” he mumbles. Y/n didn’t hear what he said to her. He just wanted to tell her for so long, but he didn't have the ball, he still doesn't have the balls, and that's why he whispers into himself.
Lane looks at her neck, she’s searching for Harry. As he sees him she smiles at him.
in which Harry’s sensitive and you’re completely undressed.
He’d prefer if you stayed.
It’s his ideal perception of comfort; the warmth oozing from the usually unoccupied side of his bed, a faded essence of vanilla perfume tied in with a bit of rose oil shampoo, the amenity of another body lethargically intertwined with his.
Bouncing back and forth between one place to another, one city to the next; it’s inconsistent. And for a while, inconsistency worked. He had nestled himself comfortably into the odd routine of inconsistency. That’s what the bulk of his foundation in larger areas of life was built off of, and you were no exception.
“Casual,” and he used the word exactly months ago, “let’s keep it casual.”
He knows what happens when he puts his hand to the flame; he gets burned. He’s learned that lesson the hard way once. And again after that, and once or twice more after that. Casual meant there wasn’t any real need for consistency. Keeping a relationship with you as casual as possible seemed like the best fit; one that made sense.
At least, back then it did. All that coming and going, late night text messages, sporadic sleepovers after over indulging on wine and really shitty romantic comedies, it became consistent. 2 minute phone calls every now and then turned into one, sometimes two hours at least once a day. He’s caught himself checking his phone so that he doesn’t miss a text. He’s not used to consistent. This, however, is the type of consistency he’s becoming quite fond of.
“5 more minutes,” he’s barely gotten his eyes open but his hands are awake, pulling you a little closer to him, “s’all we need, yeah? Just 5.. maybe 10.”
There’s a content flutter purring in his chest when you hum in response, your body readjusting as he slinks an arm over your waist. He’s not ready to draw the blinds yet. There’s a straggling strip of outside light that's fighting it’s way through the gap in the drapes. It’s got to be well into the afternoon by now, but he doesn’t wanna check his phone to confirm. Instead he just pulls you closer; he’d rather stay here, like this, instead.
“Mm,” the scruff from his chin brushes up against the back of your neck when you hum, “I wish I could.”
“Don’t wish,” he giggles, “just do.”
He frowns when he feels you peel your body away, a small gust of cool air hitting his bare stomach when you tussle the sheets off and sit up. And he watches forlornly from his spot; admiring the way he his shirt hangs on you.
“I can’t,” you’re whine is playful as you snatch your pants up from the floor, “I’ve got a thing.”
“Mhm,” you assure, “a date thing.”
It’s like a punch to the gut. The words coming out of your mouth put a bad taste in his. He doesn’t even wanna talk about it beyond this point. Ignorance really is bliss, but the curiosity will eat away at him if he doesn’t try to dig a little deeper.
“Been seein’ him long?” He’s glad your back is to him because you can’t see the worry in his face.
“Oh yeah,” that’s one more punch to the gut; he was hoping you’d say no, “we’re getting married on our date tonight.”
“Harry,” your laugh is muffled as you tug your shirt over your head, “m’fucking with you.”
His shoulders drop a bit before he sits up in the bed. Watching you get dressed has always been one of those things he enjoyed; teasing you about outfit choices, making remarks about how he should take it all off again. 90% of the time he actually does end up taking everything off again. But this time just fucking sucks. You’re not getting dressed to go back to your place; you’re getting dressed to go back to someone else’s place. At least, that’s where his mind is taking him.
You’ve still got him all over you; a little bit surely still lingering inside of you. This no-named competitor might get to touch you like he did just minutes ago. He wonders if he knows all your best spots, whisper in your ear, hold you while you sleep. Is he gonna kiss you the way you like, run fingers down your spine until you hum in content. Can this guy please you like he can? Does he know that the the little indent above your right knee is from when you fell off your bike as a kid? Does he know you sleep with two pillows and not one? You can’t sleep with one pillow; Harry always keeps an extra one freshly fluffed for you when you spend the night. Which, evidently enough, has become more frequent than not.
“So deep in thought, eh?” You tease, “What’s going on up there?”
He smirks briefly when you extend your pointer finger towards his head, swirling it around as though you’re mimicking his jumbled thoughts. He’s got no right to pry. After all, the groundwork of the terms regarding the dynamic between the two of you were his idea. God is he regretting that now. The idea of another man knowing you at all makes his stomach hurt, let alone knowing you the way he does.
“Oh m’not,” he shrugs, idle hands twirling the loose sheet on his bed, “s’nothing.”
“Going once.. going twice.. give me something, Har.”
With your hands on your hips; expression playful, eyebrow cocked and breath baited in anticipation, he’s realizing that now might be better than ever to speak up. The answer to every unasked question is no, after all.
His mind is racing with the worst of thoughts. He doesn’t want you to leave at all. Especially if you leave now to meet with the embrace of any other man except him. It’s not a possessive thing. Part of what makes him so feral and drawn to you is how open and genuine you are with the everyone you know.
“This guy,” he trails, “I mean- like is this a date?”
“You writing a book or something?” You chuckle.
He knows that was a joke. It wasn’t his intention to answer so seriously and he wishes so badly he could take that knee jerk reaction back. The look on your face falls and so does his heart; right into his fucking stomach. The energy of the once playful banter is ripped right out from beneath the both of you and now it’s just uncomfortable.
“Yeah..” Your tone wanders as you look for your socks, “3rd one, I’m pretty sure. Why?”
There’s about an infinite amount of ways he could match that question. One of them being just high pitched screaming from frustration. Not even with any words, just endless agonizing groaning on a loop. Christ, the thought of it all just makes him want to melt into the mattress and become nothing. In theory he should’ve just kept his mouth shut and suffered in silence while he waited for the next time you texted or called. But he’s dug himself so deep playing 50 questions with you that there’s no point in retreating. He’s doubling down now; all or nothing.
“Know him well?” He spits out.
“Well enough.. still getting to know him a bit.”
“S’good,” he feels it coming, the word vomit and he just can’t stop it from pooling on his tongue, “knows you like I know you?”
If he was religious he’d start praying to God, any one of them, that you answer with a firm no. How could anyone know you like Harry knows you? He’s convinced that it isn’t possible. This morning, when he was wrapped up with you in a fresh set of linens sheets, he’d be so sure that nobody else had intimate access to you like he does; sexually and emotionally. Right now though, he’s starting to do something he seldom does; second guess himself. Maybe he was naive to be so sure before.
“Not gonna put all my cards on the table just yet,” oh how badly he feels like dying when you talk all confused like that at him, “but yeah. I mean, I guess.”
You think of how silly that question is. Why would he ask that? Everyone you know gets the same version of you; honest, open, and real easy going. You’re an open book and your relationships are all reflective of that. You are who you are, proudly and comfortably. So yes, of course he does.
And all he’s thinking is how desperately he wants to rewind to 15 minutes ago when he wasn't the only naked person in the room. He just wants you to get back in bed; stay with him a little bit until he feels like the only one again. Turmoil and anger coincide with one another as it bubbles in his stomach, metastasizing before it becomes so unavoidable that he can feel it in the pit of his throat.
“Hm,” the sarcasm and bitterness in his tone is so goddamn thick, “lucky him than, yeah? Have fun, m’s real happy fo’ you.”
“Ok...” and he can tell by your voice that you’re offended, “I’d say thank you but that felt more like an insult.”
Your jeans still aren’t buttoned and now that you’ve slid your shirt back on, he notices that your arms are folded over your chest as well. He doesn’t like the look on your face. It’s like you’re accusing him of something. And he really doesn’t like that the shirt you slept in, his shirt, is in a ball at the foot of his bed.
“Can take it however y’want,” he answers flatly, “not sure how that’s my problem.”
“Well what is your fucking problem?”
You’ve never taken that tone with him before. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this cross before in general. He knows for sure you’ve never been this cross with him. It’s frustrating that you’re lagging in an attempt to catch up to the very obvious point he’s trying to make. The only easier route to take would be to flat out tell you how he’s completely hooked on you. He doesn’t want to do that though, not right now.
What’s his problem? Are you genuinely that dense? Oblivious? His problem is you and how, against all odds, have become a crucial influence on whether or not he’s having a good day. His problem is if he doesn’t hear from you after a while, he gets grumpy. He hates waking up and rolling over to the left side of his bed made up and untouched. That’s where he wants you to be sleeping. All the time.
His problem is you’re leaving to be with someone that isn't him.
“He knows you like I do?” he reiterates, “Fat fuckin chance.”
“Harry you of all people know that I’m-”
“Shy?” he’s talking over you now because he’s completely lost all motor control between his mouth and his brain, “I know y’shy. Know that y’do tha’ little thing with y’lip, when you’re reading or real focused on something. Y’hum in the shower and, I never said this but it’s bloody fucking annoying sometimes ‘cos it’s off key. S’off key ‘n I almost like it.”
You blinked; face flat and arms fallen to the side. All you could do was blink. And he wants to stop. God, he wants to stop talking so bad but this is your fault. You got him started so he has to keep going.
“I know y’favorite pair of socks- those hideous fuzzy green ones with th’hole in ‘em.”
He’s standing upright, now. How he got here, two feet planted on the ground with less distance between the two of you than two minutes ago; he’s not sure. There’s no specific expression on your face for him to pinpoint, so he considers edging himself a little closer towards where you’re standing. Until he’s right in front you, about to wave his white flag when he manages to break your blank stare and lock eyes
“Knows how y’like to be touched?” he’s brought his voice down a few octaves now, his index finger grazing over the undone button of your jeans, “knows.. how to get y’off? Like I do?”
His eyelids are low, pupils blown as he peers down at you. A finger of his tucks away a stray piece of your hair before it embarks on a mindless journey; grazing your jaw before before he places it strategically under your chin. Then he lifts it. He’s giving you no choice but to look at him when he asks you.
“Do y’wanna know him,” he sighs, “th’same way y’know me?”
a missing set of keys and a mini skirt leads to lots of fun
enjoy 2k of smut I guess, yeah.....that is all (be kind to me)
Her keys were missing.
She always leaves them hanging up. It’s her pet peeve seeing someone lose their items simply because they didn’t put them away. She is not at all forgetful, but when Harry arrives home, she forgets all about those trivial things letting him drop his items by the door and swooping in to give her a deep kiss.
“H, have you seen my keys?”
Harry had seen her walk around the apartment, lifting every pillow and knit knack, trying to find her keys. He sits on their couch, carelessly flipping through a women’s health magazine his mum had sent Y/N.
“Don’t know, baby. Not hanging up?”
She sighs, “obviously not, if I’m asking.”
Harry giggles from his spot on the new couch they got a few months ago after they broke the old one. Y/N liked to say it was him, but really it was the both of them. Harry didn’t expect the couch's legs to give out when he had her bent over the sofa, as they both got lost in the pleasure. “Guess that means you’re staying home?”
He pouts but continues to let her search. Harry has now set the magazine down and is staring openly at his lovely girlfriend. She’s wearing a pink vest with baby cows printed on the front that they found thrifting a few months ago. It’s one of their favorite activities to do together. They always make a day of it. That’s how Harry has been able to find his favorite pair of Gucci jeans. One’s donation is another person’s treasure.
Y/N rolls her eyes. Since she started getting ready, Harry had told her to stay home and blow off this lunch with her friends. It had been something her friends had been looking forward to for the entire week, saying she never goes out with them anymore, which isn’t true. She goes out plenty with her friends. It is just that Harry tags along, loving being part of their girl's night. They have to admit he gives the best manicures.
Harry watches her return to the living room, checking the windowsill and behind their succulents. His sister gifted them for their housewarming party, and has been doing wonderfully for over six months. She bends over in front of Harry as she looks around the TV and their shared switch where game night always ends in one of them complaining and getting mad, having to fuck out all the tension from the evening. It’s a weekly tradition Harry looks forward to experiencing. He sees Y/N’s skirt ride up, and he has to bite back a groan. The tight black mini skirt and fishnets are a favorite look of his.
“Baby,” Harry groans.
“H? Help me find my keys.” She demands, ignoring his plead.
“This skirt, you know what it does to me,” he breathes out, and he sees her freeze. She stands up slowly but doesn’t turn around to face him.
“Harry,” her voice is calm, but Harry knows her. He knows her, how she’s feeling, and the thoughts running through her head. He knows her breathing has picked up, and she’s waiting for him to make the first move. It’s a game of predator versus prey, and Harry doesn’t intend to lose, not when she is the prize.
Harry gets up from his seat, stepping towards her and making Y/N turn to look at him. There’s a smirk on his face when he sees her eyes darken and fill with lust. She backs away, and he lets her, wanting to see where she’ll lead him. Y/N had only taken a few steps when she is forced to stop as her back met the wall.
He shakes his head, an unmistakable gleam of desire visible in his emerald eyes.
“Come on, baby. Let me take care of you.”
She lets out a deep breath and shakes her head, knowing she would head out still or she’d never make it to lunch, but Harry is looking at her like he wants to devour her, and she knows he’d follow her out and bring her right back into their apartment. There is no telling him no, not that she actually wants to. Y/N feels how damp her panties have gotten and is ready for what he will give her, but she’s not giving in so easily.
Harry raises his and brushes her hair back, letting Y/N lean into his touch. He loves her and will do anything to remind her of that. “You just wanted me to beg. Huh, beg you to stay home so I can fuck you.”
Y/N whimpers as she sees Harry get down on his knees in front of her. He kisses her hips through the fabric of her skirt, pushing her vest up, letting his hands feel her smooth bare skin. He feels her stumble, losing her footing, putting her hands against the wall to keep herself up.
He smirks. He’s in control now. He’s ready to have her screaming his name.
“You wanted this,” he breathes out after another set of kisses. “This little skirt on, and you knew there was no leaving me without me fucking you. You’re a tease.”
“Harry,” she breathes out.
“Wanted my cock, such a slut.”
She can’t take it. She needs something, anything. “Please, H, please.”
Harry laughs against her skin, sliding his hands to cup her ass, pulling her closer to his mouth, taking in her sweet aroma.
“You’re such a slut for me.” He kisses her tugging at the fishnets playfully. “Where do you want my mouth, baby?”
She sinks a hand into his hair and guides his head closer to her clothed pussy. He knows she’s dying to be touched, wanting any kind of relief, but Harry doesn’t dare move. He laughs, and her breath hitches as she feels his breath against her thighs, closer than before. A few more inches, and his mouth is exactly where she needs him.
He clicks his tongue shaking his head, “need to hear you say it?”
“H,” she whines.
“Be my good girl. Know you can do it.”
“Want—,” she moans as Harry bites her thigh, and she knows she’ll have fresh new bruises he’ll admire tomorrow. “Want your mouth on me, please.”
Harry smirks, “I’ll give it to you. My slutty baby can’t think, huh. That’s alright. All you need to remember is my name, baby.”
“That’s right, angel. You know I like Daddy too.”
Harry reaches up and pulls down the fish nets. As much as it pains him, he knows Y/N would not be so forgiving if he ripped another pair. After the fifth pair, he told her to stock up, but she still hated being wasteful. He pushed up her skirt, the flimsy material now scrunched at her waist, while he took in her silk red panties with a wet stain and knew she was more than ready for him.
He kisses up her thighs until he’s right where she wants him. Harry kisses her against her panties, and he knows she loves it with the moans that fill the room. He pulls them down, done with depriving himself of seeing her sweet pussy wet for him. It’s a sight he will never get tired of, she’s glistening, and it is all for him.
Harry leans in his mouth, licking up her lips, and the moan he gets sends him close to the edge. He places his hands on the back of her thighs, holding her tight as he lets himself have his way with her. His tongue slips out, licking up her juices, not wanting to miss a single drop.
“Daddy,” she whimpers.
Her moans drive him forward. He wants her to come on his tongue. Harry teases her, allowing his tongue to familiarize itself with her beautiful pussy. Y/N’s thighs are shaking, and Harry knows she loves the teasing, but she can only take so much. He presses himself closer as his mouth kisses her and his tongue slips inside her, getting her to tug at his hair as she begins to ride his race. Harry doesn’t care if he can’t breathe. All he knows is he needs to make her come.
“Close, Daddy. Let me come.”
Harry doesn’t answer her. If anything, her words drive him to work faster. He takes a long lick until he reaches her clit and sucks it in his mouth. He feels her knees buckle but keeps his hold form. He doesn’t stop, hearing her screaming that she is close.
“Daddy, coming. I’m coming.”
Harry feels her tense and, in the next second, relaxes as her orgasm washes over her. He hears her head thumb against the wall. He doesn’t move, letting her settle down. It isn't until he hears a quiet thank you that he begins to clean her up.
Y/N whimpers feeling sensitive. She opens her legs wider giving him more access, and Harry wants to laugh because she looks fucks out but would never dare to tell him to stop. It’s a few minutes, or ten Y/N isn’t sure when she feels Harry pull away from her.
“Fuck me,” she breathes out when Harry kisses her now bruised thighs.
“You want my cock? Hmmm,” Harry urges her on.
“Please, Daddy,” she mewls out.
He stands up, careful to help her set her feet on the ground, arm wrapping around her waist to keep her up while her hands land on his waist, slipping under his white tank top, showing off his tattooed arms. Harry didn’t make leaving the house easy for Y/N, knowing she loves when he shows off his arms, and she can see the contrast of tattoos on them.
Harry leans in to give her a deep kiss, and she moans against him as she can taste herself against his tongue. He smirks against her mouth, drawing out a whine as he pulls away. “My baby knows I’ll give it to her. Always will.”
“Fuck me, please. Fuck me, Daddy.” She pleads.
“Oh, my dirty girl still has manners.” Harry smiles, tugging at her bottom lip.
She's panting, ���please, please.”
“Anything my slutty baby wants, I’ll give her,” he promises.
Harry takes her hand, aware of her shaky legs, and guides her a few steps to their dining table, where she happily bends herself over the small table for four. Harry gives her ass a hard slap that makes Y/N yelp in surprise.
“Dirty slut, Daddy, was going to set you on the table, but his slut wants it hard and fast.”
“Sorry, Daddy.” They both know she doesn’t mean it.
He gives her another slap, watching her ass jiggle, and this time Y/N moans, encouraging Harry to give her one more. He doesn’t want her to be too sore, but he’ll happily rub lotion when she’s whining that her butt stings. Harry would do anything for her.
Harry takes off his shorts in a hurry, happy that he never uses briefs at home, knowing he loved having easy access to his girl as they both were insatiable. Y/N looks beautiful, waiting patiently bent over their table, her skirt scrunched around her waist and pink vest still on her hiding her breast from view, but Harry doesn’t worry. He’ll make sure he gives them their deserved attention later in bed.
He is thankful they had the talk and have decided to stop using condoms. He assured her they didn’t have to, but she promised she wanted it and who was he to deny anything from the love of his life. He grabbed his cock and rubbed it up and down her slit getting himself ready before fucking his girl.
“Harry, please. I want it.”
He chuckles. She’s desperate for him. Harry isn’t in the mood to play dying to get himself inside her tight cunt, or he would continue to tease her.
“I got you, baby.”
Harry guides himself in slowly; as heated as the moment was, he wouldn’t dare hurt his girl. He groans, feeling how tight she is, feeling her squeezing him the deeper he pushes inside her (his) pussy.
“Baby,” he huffs, “need you to relax.”
She shakes her head, “too good, love it too much.”
Harry laughs, making Y/N moan. “You filthy girl, I’ll give it to you exactly how you want it.”
He pushes in, taking in all her moans, aware of how much pleasure this brings them. Harry leans down his back against Y/N’s and kisses up her neck as he thrusts back in. Y/N pushes her hips to meet his wanting him to go faster, but Harry wants all control because he knows what she needs. He rests his hands on her hips, holding her still over the dining table as she tries to claw her nails into the table, looking for extra support.
“Scream for me, baby. Tell Daddy how much you love his cock in your sweet cunt.”
She screams as his hips snap into hers, the slapping of their skin echoing in their quiet apartment apart from her moans.
“Daddy! Love it, so good,” she sobs. “Love you.”
Harry is so close, and he knows Y/N isn’t far behind. She has grown tighter, but it does not stop him. It pushes him to go faster and harder. He’s so overwhelmed all his senses heightened, but all he can feel and smell is her. He’s wrapped up in everything that is Y/N.
“I love you, baby. So much.” He kisses her neck, and she lets out a whimper feeling his deep grunts against her ear, “be my good slut and come.”
“Harry!!!” Y/N throws her head back against Harry’s shoulder, letting her second orgasm go through her entire body. It’s euphoric.
Harry groans. He thrusts into her one more time, allowing himself to fall apart and come inside her, resting his head against her neck as she falls slack against the table. Harry follows close behind. Their breathing is heavy, and soon their laughter fills the air.
He truly enjoys every moment with Y/N, but the comedown from intense sex is his favorite because he loves the aftercare and taking care of his girl. Harry is careful to slip out. He feels his cock twitch seeing his come spill out of her. He acts quickly, reaching for a cloth sitting on top of the clean laundry they have yet to put away. Y/N hums, letting Harry take care of her. He helps her stand up slowly, hugging her close to his chest, breathing her in, taking in how much she fills him with love. He decides it’s also time for truths.
“Your keys are in my pocket,” he breathes against her neck giving her neck a teasing bite and letting his hands rub her stomach.
Harry frowns, “what?”
She giggles, “canceled lunch as soon as I saw my keys missing.”
He turns her around and sits her on the table. “Say that again, baby?”
She throws her head back, laughing, her hands looping around his neck. “You know I never misplace my keys. Knew you hid them from me to stay home, and well, I know what that skirt does to you.”
“Fuck, you cheeky minx.”
Her laugh rings through the apartment, and Harry can’t help but join in. He’s never felt love like this and knows he never will. He knows that the ring at the back of his sock drawer will be on her finger sooner rather than later.
hola amores, I wanted to give you this little gift one because I had the idea and knew you would all enjoy it and two because this is my busiest week and I might not be around all week but now I love you and appreciate you.
let me know what you thought please 😘
"aw, it hurts? too bad. you're gonna keep taking it until i’m satisfied." and "you can give me another one, can't you baby? for me, please?" with Harry, Sorry I’m just a greedy girl😫
Warnings: smut, p in v, domrry, punishment, overstimulation, daddy kink, choking, rough play
I wrote this in 30mins xoxo
send me a smut prompt from this list!
"Harry I can't... it's too... it's too much" you panted, writhing underneath him.
His fingers flexed against your neck, his other hand tightening on your hip as he drove into you hard from behind. You were stomach down on the bed, hips propped onto a pillow with his body straddling the back of your thighs with your legs wedged between them.
He had already relentlessly teased you, fucking himself between your thighs squeezed tight together, making sure he’d bump against your puffy clit every now and then as he used you for his pleasure.
You had been bratty all night, and while Harry was a patient man he had his limit. He knew it was because you wanted to be punished, but a cute little spanking wasn’t going to do the trick anymore, he knew you liked it too much and that it got you off.
So overstimulation it was. Your body was sensitive, and after only one orgasm your clit became unbearably sensitive unless you took a no contact break for minutes at a time.
So when Harry decided to fuck you hard, hit that spot inside you with so much force and so often while he made sure your clit ground against the pillow underneath you over and over again, you were dying.
It was all too much, too many sensations at once, too much pleasure, too much pain.
You wanted to be spanked, that’s all you wanted and Harry hadn’t hit your ass once. It was like he knew what your true intentions were before you even did. He had a way of reading you better than anyone else in the entire world.
“Aw it hurts?” He pouted, his tone teasing and feigning hurt even though he didn’t feel the slightest bit bad for what he was doing to you. “Too bad. You’re gonna keep taking it until I’m satisfied”
“Please” you whined, clutching the duvet in your hands as your body shook with every thrust.
“No, you wanted this remember. You acted like a brat so you could get punished” he leant down to murmur against your ear.
“No, no I just wanted to get spanked.. not this!” You shook your head hard, feeling him smirk against the side of your face at your admission. He knew it wouldn’t be too long before you told him the truth.
“Doesn’t Daddy always give you what you want? You wanted to be punished and that’s exactly what I’m doing, so what makes you think I wouldn’t spank you if you asked huh? Hurts my feelings that you don’t think I’d take care of you”
Your heart clenched at his reply, tears falling faster down your face at the thought of hurting him. You didn’t want that at all, you just wanted him to show you attention and mark you up a bit. You never wanted to hurt his feelings.
“‘M sorry Daddy! I didn’t mean it, didn’t mean to hurt your feelings” you cried out, feeling him kiss away the saltiness from your cheeks.
“It’s alright baby, but you gotta make up for it yeah? Wanna make Daddy feel better?” He cooed, already feeling your walls tightening around him in delicious pleasure.
“Yes, yes, yes” you chanted.
“Cum for me, can feel you’re close already” he nipped at your neck, working to create another mark close to the other ones he had already made.
Your body screamed at his request, knowing how much another orgasm would hurt. God it would feel good, if you hadn’t already came four times.
“I can’t, Daddy I can’t”
“You can give me another one, can’t you baby? For me, please? Would make Daddy so proud” he coaxed, kissing you gently to try and convince you. He knew you’d do it for him, all it took was a bit of praise and you would do anything he asked.
“I-it would? Would make you feel better?” You whimpered, the only thought in your head about making up for hurting your Daddy’s feelings. Harry only hummed a yes in reply, adjusting his grip on your neck so your head went even more dizzy than it currently was.
You couldn’t respond after that, the pleasure coursing through your veins making you tremble and shake underneath him. Your thighs tensed up when your body went over the edge, a borderline scream erupting from you at the flood of pain and pleasure that consumed you all at once.
Harry’s grip on your hips ground you deeper into the pillow to carry you through, his cock nudging against that spot inside you that was making you weep. Your chant of his name turned into pleads to stop as he kept touching you post orgasm, until finally he stopped moving together.
“Good girl my love, did so well” he praised, letting your neck go so your face could drop into the duvet beneath you. Harry kissed along your upper back, giving you your first moments of relief from his touch as he let you calm down.
It wasn’t too long before he pulled out of you and turned you onto your back, collecting your legs by the ankles in one hand and pressing them to your chest.
“Daddy what are you doing?” You asked confused, thinking that in your own high Harry also came and that you two could cuddle and go to sleep.
“Oh my sweet girl, did you think we were finished?” He tapped the tip of his hard cock against your clit in a motion that made your hips jerk.
“We’re far from over”
y/n is a cupid and harry might be her soulmate. if that's even possible anyway.
"Excuse me? Are y'okay?"
(Y/N) froze at the sound of an accented voice speaking from behind her. She could feel eyes on her back, spying the shimmer covered skin left bare from the draping of the tulle-esque cloud weaved fabric that made her dress. He wasn't supposed to be able to see her.
"You... You can see me?" When did her voice get so breathless? (Y/N) didn't dare to turn around just yet. Maybe, this man was talking to someone else.
A beat passed.
"Yes?" his tentative response came, sounding more like a question than a definitive statement. "I-I just want to know if you're alright. It's a little cold out, so..."
Was it? (Y/N) didn't really notice things like that any more, temperature and changes in the weather. It all felt the same to her at this point. The goosebumps rising on her skin were a new reaction.
Turning on her heel, her bare feet left a divot in the snow beneath them. That's never happened before. Facing whoever it was that caught her, (Y/N) felt her voice freeze like the air around her that she was beginning to become conscious of.
He was pretty. Very pretty.
Split down the middle, his hair fell in brown curls with blonde speckles touching at his temples from time in the sun. She wished she could tell the shade of his eyes, but the way he was backlit by his porch light kept her from seeing that detail. Instead she was left with the impression of a pair of big eyes, squinting to see her to see her through the space. Pillow lips, a pretty shade of pink that was muted through the lack of light, were pursed as he looked at her, concern tugging at the corners. Freckles dotted the bridge of his nose and decorated his otherwise clear, slightly tanned skin.
No one had ever been able to see her before, but she figured she was at least a little lucky that the first one who did was someone as pretty as him. But, that might have just been the romantic in her talking.
This man responded to her silence by talking a careful step over the threshold of his door, creaking floorboards groaning under his feet as he walked over his porch. A hand lingered on the knob to the door, not allowing it to swing completely shut after him.
"Can I call someone for you? I know Jack's parties get a little out of hand sometimes, so if you need to wait for someone to drive y'home or need to call an Uber, I can help." This man spoke to her as if she were a wounded animal: careful and delicately.
While she'd never really been able to garner a lot of reaction to her appearance given the fact she was supposed to be invisible, she didn't think she looked particularly creatureish. At least not enough to be taken for a limping dog. Maybe she wasn't so lucky to be seen by someone as pretty as him.
Her silence stretched on, prompting him to take another step towards her. The door behind him shuttered closed, leaving him out in the cold with her despite the fact she didn't think she could feel it as intensely as he did. "At least let me grab you a jacket, or-or some shoes if you want to walk. I don't know how you've made it this far out anyway, Jack's property is miles down the road," he continued, brows knotting together in the middle when he dragged his eyes over her bare legs.
Jack, he mentioned again. Was that whoever was in charge of the party she had fluttered through before finding herself out here and seen by this man? She'd done her work there, bringing more than a few couples together before she flittered on her way. Valentine's day was busy enough as is, she couldn't linger longer than needed. Besides, that party was a lot more stressful and wild than she had any interest in hanging out at, even if no one would interact with her. That was where he thought she'd come from?
Clouds had must have filled her head, and by the time they cleared out and she focused once more on the man, he was much closer than she remembered. Despite the stretch of yard still between them, his lessened proximity gave her a startle.
Green. His eyes were green.
She could tell when he jumped back, eyes widening as his breathing stopped.
It was (Y/N)'s turn to feel concern warp her heart. She couldn't help herself before she took a careful step towards him, reaching a hand out. "Is everything okay? Are you hurt?" Noticing now, he didn't have shoes on either and the ground could be littered with anything that gave him a shock when he walked.
"Th-Those are real?" he breathed out, pointing with a shaky finger. His pretty green eyes weren't even looking at her she realized. He was looking behind her.
Right at the fluffy pair of wings peeking over the slopes of her shoulders, the feathers laying down now that the start he gave to her heart was settling.
While she planned on trying to explain away what he saw (obviously, he'd thought she was in costume, like she'd seen on a few of the participants at Jack's party), especially with the way he'd gone pale and his hand was shaking a lot more than she figured was safe, she didn't get very far before the sound of something skittering away behind her had her jumping in place. Turning to look at the field behind her, a white cottontail could be seen running to the cover of a shrub, prints left in the crunchy snow to account for the crackling sound that scared her out of her skin. It was an involuntary response, the way her wings fluttered behind her, feathers raised to ready her for flight in case of emergency.
But that response seemed to be the last straw for her new friend as he dropped to the ground, eyes fluttering closed.
Once getting him safe inside, draped across his couch with a roaring fire alive in the hearth, (Y/N) only felt a little guilty snooping around. When he didn't wake right away, she figured he might need a little bit of a nap, if only to get his blood pressure under control before she would be on her way and keep him from experiencing another panic.
In his kitchen sat a plate of untouched food on the counter, a pair of slippers by the back door from where he had approached her, and a knocked over glass of water with droplets still dripping down the cabinets to the tiled floor. He dropped everything to help the girl he'd found wandering through his property it seemed. She must have really been an unusual sight for him to have forgone his own shoes.
His home was cozy, she thought fondly, as she wandered down the hallways and traipsed up the stairs. The walls were lined with photos of her friend and two other women who both had similar dimples and sparkling eyes. Others included people who looked nothing like him, but he still held a happy grin on his face. Always his arms were draped around their shoulders, nails painted as he clutched them close in a pose for the camera. Books about fashion, philosophy, and happiness were littered throughout the home, occupying shelves and the space on his nightstand. His shoes were stuffed under the edge of his bed, his most favorite pair appearing to be a set of beat up white tennis shoes, threaded through with baby pink laces. The whole place smelled warm and sweet—lavender and spice, vanilla and cinnamon, and the underlying base of whatever it was she'd smelled when she had to lean him against her side as she lugged him into safety. That part must just be him, then.
Seeing all of this made her feel even more guilty for spooking him so terribly. She hadn't meant to, of course—he wasn't even supposed to see her—but maybe she could have been a little bit more aware of her wings when she realized he had spotted her. Hopefully, he would be alright and take her ensuring his safety as her apology.
Cupids had famously tender hearts, so she didn't know what she'd do if he held a grudge against her for this whole accident.
The least she could do was clean up some for him before he woke, she decided. That way, he might be able to convince himself it was nothing but a silly dream he had while waiting for his dinner to be ready.
Fluttering with the tips of her toes dancing across the hardwood of his floor, (Y/N) made it to his kitchen. She made quiet work of cleaning up the cup and water marring his clean floor. The now chipped crystal of his glass caught the light from the dining room just perfectly, casting shimmering rainbows across the kitchen. Hopefully he wouldn't notice that too much. Rag in hand, (Y/N) dropped to her hands and knees to mop up the water spilled across the tiles, the hem of her short dress grazing the floor as she worked.
Standing to her feet, damp rag in hand and a clean floor before her, (Y/N) felt the warmth of eyes on her back. Jeez, if this being seen thing was going to start to be a regular thing, she was going to have to be a little bit better about hiding.
Turning on her toes like she'd seen a ceramic ballerina in a music box do once, she braced herself for a repeat of what happened in the yard. Maybe this time she could catch him.
Behind her stood her new friend (no matter how much she searched around his house, she couldn't find anything with his name on it), eyes wide but decidedly much more color in his cheeks.
"I thought you were a dream," was all that fell from his lips, voice graveled and quiet.
(Y/N) watched him, hoping to catch the signs before he'd drop to the floor. "A-Are you going to faint again?"
"I don't think so, but..." he trailed off, eyes never leaving the fluffs of wings over her shoulder. "What are you?"
Twisting the damp rag in her hands, (Y/N) worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She'd never had to explain herself to anyone before. No one other than those like her had ever seen her before.
"Do you know who Cupid is?"
The man seemed to take her in slowly then. She was aware of the heat of his gaze as he skimmed over the breezy dress on her form, the sheen of shimmer that permanently covered her skin, and, of course, the wings pinned to her back. "Like the baby with the arrows?"
A slight smile touched at the corners of (Y/N)'s lips. "Kind of. We're not really babies or have actual arrows, but close enough."
A beat of silence filled the space between them, the plush green of his eyes keeping her attention as he couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from her.
"This isn't a joke, is it?" he murmured, finally landing on her face with his eyes softening.
"No," was her simple answer, but (Y/N) had the feeling he wasn't listening.
Looking at this man with pretty green eyes and sleep mussed curls crowning his head, she watched a look come across his face that she'd seen thousands of times before. Only it had never directed at her before. The softening of his jaw, the small parting of his lips, something just a hair behind his pupils turning into hearts as he looked at her. She'd seen all of those adjustments happen to those she helped fall in love with their right person; it was true love the first time they looked their beloved in the eyes.
And he was looking at her.
While arrows weren't the preferred method to infect someone with the love bug, there still was a process Cupids had to go through to ensure their target had those butterflies in their stomach and thoughts questioning if love at first sight really was possible. (Y/N)'s favorite was the deliberate touch of her fingertips over their heart to get it racing or purposeful flick of her wrist with a brush through their hair to get love on the brain, but she didn't do either of those things to her friend right? She had been very careful when carting him inside to not touch him too much where it could impair him, but it wasn't even possible for people to fall in love with her anyway.
Cupids weren't meant to be the objects of love; they were only there bring those who were meant to be, together. Except for a single story she had heard a long time ago...
"I'm awake, right?" the man said, a dreamy cast over his gaze, "Y'promise this isn't a dream or a joke?"
He thought she was a dream. (Y/N)'s heart stuttered at the thought. She'd never been someone's dream before.
"You're awake, I promise," she smiled, nails digging into the rag as she tried to keep herself from reaching out to brush back the curl that flopped over his forehead. "Are you feeling okay? You fell kind of hard outside."
"Yeah, yeah, 'm fine," he mumbled, shrugging off her questions as he took a careful step towards her, "You're really Cupid?"
"Kind of," she started, the volume of her voice matching his, "I'm a Cupid, but my name is (Y/N). What's your name?"
"'M Harry," he rushed out, a dimpled smile perching itself on his lips as he allowed his gaze to take her in once more.
The fact he wasn't running for the hills or reaching for a pitchfork or a straitjacket to tie her up in was a miracle in and of itself, (Y/N) thought. She never thought of such a lovely reaction to someone finding her out. No matter how lovely it was, though, it wasn't supposed to happen. No one was ever supposed to see her.
Harry must have picked up on the direction her thoughts had taken as he reached a tentative hand out, soft fingertips brushing the back of her hand that was still worrying her cleaning rag. "Are you okay?"
Swallowing, (Y/N) took a slow step back, her bare feet on the cold tile causing a shiver to rocket up her back. "You're not supposed to be able to see me. I don't know why you can."
"Oh," he sounded, gaze dropping to the floor. "Do you think something's wrong? With me?"
Her heart strings were pulled taut at the sound of his voice, dejection an undercurrent to his words. "No, no, there's nothing wrong with you," she rushed out, dropping the rag to take her turn reaching for him with a carful hand. Unlike her, he didn't hesitate to reciprocate her touch as he turned his palm towards her and curled his fingers around hers in a loose hold. Never had (Y/N) actually experienced the butterflies she induced in other people's stomachs or the rollercoaster drop feeling that surged through her veins. Not until now.
She swallowed before speaking, forcing her eyes to fixate on their joined hands instead of his eyes so she didn't forget what she was saying. "I've just only ever heard of this happening once before for a Cupid, but I guess I didn't really believe the story until now."
"What was the story?" he asked her, taking another calculated step towards her with his hand shifting to hold her own better, "Was it bad?"
"No," she started, chancing a look up at him where he still looked like the star of a campaign for the validity of love at first sight. God, he really was so gorgeous. "It was about a Cupid, he—uh—he was working and suddenly there was someone who could see him. It turns out the man that could see him was the Cupid's soulmate. No one else in the world was supposed to see him except for this man because that was the only way he was going to fall in love like the Cupid was supposed to help him with."
Harry's gaze never shifted from her as she spoke, only draping itself over her features to catch every flutter of her lashes and molding of her lips around her words. "Soulmate?" he uttered, the only thing falling from his tongue when his eyes refocused on hers. (Y/N) only hummed a confirmation in response, her voice a little stuck as she tried to keep from seeing just how many lashes he had bordering his eyes. "Is that what you think I am? Y-Your soulmate."
(Y/N)'s wings fluffed out at the sound of his voice wrapping around the words your soulmate. If not for the fact she could feel the solid ground beneath her feet, she would have suspected she was flying with the way her heart soared.
"Maybe," she peeped, feeling a warmth bubble under her skin when he squeezed at her hand in his, "Do you feel any different?"
Those softened eyes met hers in a heartbeat, tearing away from her lips when he processed her question. "I feel everything," he told her in a rush, the words seemingly coming out before he knew he wanted them to, "Everything good. Is that normal?"
"When someone falls in love, yes," she told him, voice small as if the truth would break everything if she uttered it too loudly.
The L-word sat between them in the silence of his kitchen while she gauged his reaction. (Y/N) watched as he shifted on his feet only to grow closer to her, his fingers lacing between hers in a proper hold, and his pulse thrummed at the base of his throat. He didn't resemble at all the pale man that had dropped to the ground in fright at finding out her wings were real. He looked like a man in love.
"'M falling in love?" he rasped, his voice dropping with the way he'd grown close enough she had to crane her neck to look up at him, "With Cupid?"
"Maybe." She'd correct him later that she was only a Cupid, not the Cupid, himself.
"How will I know for sure?" This close, she could make out just how many tiny freckles dotted the strong line of his nose. Her favorite might be the one just off to the side of his mouth, though.
"K-Kissing, usually makes it pretty clear." (Y/N)'s heart jumped to her throat when she uttered the K-word.
He wouldn't actually kiss her, though, right? He didn't even know her, and these things typically took a bit longer than this. But, she guessed, she'd never really heard about what the effects of being in love with the embodiment of love could do to a person.
"Kissing?" Harry mused under his breath, as if she weren't meant to hear him despite the proximity. The hand that had been hanging limply by his side carefully reached out and cupped the curve of her waist over the cloud-light dress that curled around her form. While it covered what it needed, (Y/N) could clearly feel the ridges and lines of his palm through the fabric, warm and soft as she tried not to hug him closer. Instead, (Y/N) settled with a gentle hand on his chest. She wondered if he could feel her warmth through his shirt.
When Harry dipped his head down, his exhale sweeping across her skin, (Y/N) held her own breath. As much as she wanted to catalogue just what shade of pink his lips were tinted, how many lashes were fluttered around his eyes, and the gradient of the blonde hairs on his temples into the deep chocolate of his curls, there was nowhere else she could look but at his eyes. A spring day right in the middle of winter, that was the only description she could think of for the shade of his irises. The perfect green stems to blooming roses, wrapped up and gifted to a lover on Valentine's Day.
"Kissing," she confirmed, answering the question she wasn't even sure he knew he was asking.
That seemed to be all he needed to hear before he nudged his nose against hers, eyes fluttering closed. He paused a breath away from her lips, giving her an out if she wanted to step out of his hold. When she didn't make any more to push him away or back out of his warmth, Harry surged forward and closed the gap between their lips.
(Y/N) had never been kissed before, but she had a feeling this was how it was supposed to be done. His lips were soft, softer than she could think of any rose petal ever being. He was careful as he slotted their lips together, lingering in an affectionate kiss against her top lip. It was innocent and slow, nothing like the kissing she'd seen at Jack's party a property over. This felt more akin to the kind of kiss she'd peeked on at weddings, or private moments between lovers who knew there was no one else out there but the one in their arms.
True love's kiss.
Harry pulled away first, (Y/N) stopping herself from following after him as if she was the one that needed to confirm she was in love with Cupid. He didn't immediately open his eyes once he gained the space, leaving (Y/N) to gaze up at his lidded eyes with his pretty pink lips parted to let out an airy sigh.
"Are you okay?" she broached after a beat, Harry's eyes still shuttered.
A slow smile took over his mouth. Dimples thumbed themselves deep into his cheeks, the skin growing pink with a blush bubbling to the surface. He blinked his eyes open only for his smile to widen when he found hers.
"I think I'm in love."
ahhh! this is super different for me!! ive never written something and posted same day along with no editing shfushfuhs an most of the time I don't really write my y/ns as the supernatural/fun characters so lots of nw things for me on this one!!! anyway im SO sorry for any mistakes nad thank you sm for reading! if you have any ideas or requests of your own please send them in!
FUELLED BY LUST
18+ ONLY — harry and y/n can’t wait till they get home to fuck so they have a quickie in the back of the car (heavily inspired by Harry’s brits post)
reblogs & feedback are appreciated :)
Harry’s movements were fuelled by lust as he pulled up onto a deserted road, the only source of light coming from the dimmed lampposts around them. He had enough, watching the way y/n slowly slipped her hand into her panties, undoubtedly finding her clit. She was touching herself in-front of him, too impatient to wait until they got home to get what she needed.
The thing that did it for Harry though, was the way she pulled her hand out of her panties, her fingers wet with her own slick. She trailed her tongue over her fingers, sucking and licking at them. “You’re such a minx” Harry growled, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight next to him.
Y/n was breathless, her leg spread open on the seat and her fingers now trailing over her panties. “I need you” she moaned, “want you to fuck me”
“Hmm, you couldn’t wait could you?” He asked, leaning over, his breath now fanning over y/ns heated face “you just need my dick so bad. Going without makes you crazy”
“Please-” her begging was cut short as Harryreached his breaking point, leaning over the console to smash his lips against y/ns. His hands were sneaking down her body, replacing her fingers as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth.
Y/ns fingers clutched his jaw as he slowly began to trace soft circles above her panties making her rut up against him. She was moaning into his mouth, her other hand coming up to pull at his hair. It was straight up filth, the kiss becoming sloppy and desperate.
“In the back. Now” Harry growled, the demand made y/n impossibly wetter, her thighs squeezing together in anticipation as she got rid of her top and dropped it onto the floor, joining her trousers from when she removed them before to tease Harry. Once she was done, she climbed over into the back, Harry grinning as he spanks her exposed butt. “Going to wreck you” he mutters.
He was quick to join her in the back, his lips on hers within seconds. He moans into her mouth as his fingers tug down her bra, Harry cups her exposed breast, squeezing it roughly, just the way y/n liked it. “N-need you so bad” she moans against him, pulling away to roll her hips upwards against Harry’s clothed hard on. The boner he was supporting showed just how bad he needed her too.
“My needy girl” Harry groaned, his lips quickly finding one of her exposed nipples to tug at, this illicits a squeak from y/n making Harry chuckle. He sits up, his legs spread as he unzips his trousers, pulling his heavy cock out with a hiss. “Ride me” he demands.
The mushroom tip of his cock was red and oozing with precum, the veins were bulging around his length and y/n so desperately wanted to lick her way up them before sucking on him but she knew she couldn’t. Not here anyways. They were running out of time.
Y/n slowly climbs over him, Harry manoeuvring her into the exact position he wanted so that she was now hoovering ontop of his awaiting cock. “Put it inside” he spoke, his eyes focusing on the way she moves her panties to the side before grabbing his length and slowly seating herself ontop of it.
“Fuck” he hisses, head thrown back “so goddamn tight” he thrusts his hip upwards, meeting her movement. A moan leaves her lips and Harry smirks, knowing how he was already hitting at her spot. The spot that had her eyes rolling back, her toes curling and her shrieking out in nothing but orgasmic pleasure.
“S-so deep” she moans, bouncing on his lap, Harry’s hands reach forward to spank her ass before grabbing onto her hips, his fingernails undoubtedly leaving their bruises, he guides her up and down on him, feeling the way her walls constrict around his thick cock.
Y/n could feel every single vein and ridge of his cock, she was going crazy with lust, loving the way she could hear the sound of sweaty skin against sweaty skin, the way Harry’s breathing got deeper and the few profanities that spilled from his lips each time he bottomed out inside of her.
“Like feeling me so deep, don’t you baby?” He asks, his eyes opening to take in the sight infront of him. Y/ns breasts were bouncing with each movement and Harry was quite literally drooling. He leans forward to kiss down her chest, tongue licking a stripe over her breasts before his warm mouth engulfs one of her nipples. He bites, sucks and nibbles on her, enjoying the way she squirms ontop of him.
“I-I love you” y/n moans just as she falls over the edge, her orgasm rocking through her with urgency. She shrieks in pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut as she shakes ontop of her lover. Her walls squeezing repeatedly around his cock.
Harry’s lips crash against hers, muffling the sounds of her pleasure as he works on getting himself to come. He wanted nothing more than to get home and give her a proper fuck, a fuck that isn’t a quickie in the back of his car.
He only pulls back to groan, his teeth biting his lips as he thrusts upwards once and then twice before finally letting go. His load spills into her, filling her up just how she likes it, it was chaotic moments like these were he really did appreciate the birth control y/n took daily. She moans above him, shaking ontop of Harry’s body, completely blissed out, Harry runs his fingers up and down her back as they both come down from their highs. Their laboured breathing being the only sound in the car now.
“I love you” he praises after a while, kissing into her hair “let’s get home so I can make you come another three times yeah?” He asks earning a chuckle from y/n in return.
“Good luck with that, I’m spent” she speaks, her voice hoarse.
“That’s fine, we can cuddle instead” Harry says with a kiss to her forehead making her smile against him.
Summary: Harry is y/n boyfriend of twenty months. He’s still the shy boy around her, but now more comfortable. It leads to it that Harry stops wearing long big clothes and have sex with out a shirt.
Pairing: shy boyfriend!harry x fem!reader
Trigger warnings: mention of throwing up, use of pet names, praise, mention of handjob, short mention of sucide, unprotective sex, aftercare
A/N: I write for Niall too, I would like to write more about him. But I don't enjoy it when no one reads it and I hardly get any feedback. It is demotivating for me. I don’t write much smut, so it isn’t my best, but it’s soft and caring.
After thirteen months y/n dad insisted on meeting Harry. He knew it got serious between them. Y/n was never so long with someone in a relationship. Her ex-boyfriend just broke up after seven months and the next day he had a new one. Y/n knew something was wrong but she couldn’t prove it.
“Y/n when can I meet your boyfriend?” Her dad asks her softly. He brought her a glass of water. She stayed home, she got sick to her tummy overnight. She couldn’t rest well the night before the whole night she sat before the toilet and puked.
“He’s really shy. He doesn’t like to talk to new people,” she swallowed the water down. She lost a lot of liquid over the night and it stopped only this morning.
Her dad opened his mouth, “I love you. I just want to make sure he’s the right guy for my little girl.” She hugs him tightly. “Try to sleep a bit,” y/n lays her body on the warm sheets. “If you need anything tell me,” she gets a kiss on her forehead.
Y/n tried her best that Harry doesn’t come over the next few days. She doesn’t want him to get sick either. But he loves her too much not to. He wore a big fabric jacket from her. His favourite actually. It’s just a plain dark blue jacket.
Harry rang the doorbell, he can feel how sweat builds on his hands. He decided to hide his face with the hood. He has never seen y/n dad. “Is y/n home,” he asked quietly. Her dad is almost as tall as Harry.
Harry saw her dad a few times and he finds him intimidating. She told him that her dad is the sweetest guy he’ll know. Something important that she told her prince is that her dad is young.
Y/n dad let her in and brought him upstairs into her room. “Look who’s here,” y/n turned her body to the door. The corners of her mouth curled up when she saw him.
She missed doing his hair so she made him braids, her eyes shining. She kissed him a lot and in return H helped her with the school stuff she missed. “Do you miss me?” He asks insecurely. He never asks anything like that. He doesn't want to sound clingy.
“Of course I did,” y/n couldn’t help but smile from eye to eye. It’s been four days since she wasn’t in school.
The next visit to the sick. Y/n can tell something is wrong with him. “Wanna talk about it,” she put some colourful hair clips in his hair. She stroked his knuckles. He told her how pretty he feels when she puts them in his hair. She sees some tears on his cheeks shining.
“Don’t like seeing you sick,” he says. Something is off with him. He’s quieter than she’s used to.
Luckily it wasn’t something serious. Y/n just ate some old food and her stomach did not tolerate it. “My dad wants to have dinner with you,” she says.
“Is that okay, I mean you don’t like talking to new people?” He nods. “Great, he'll be happy to meet my Harry.” Her smile is so big it might burst.
After fifteen months y/n found out the word shy doesn’t exist in her dad‘s vocabulary. “Sweetie, can I talk to you in the kitchen?” Her dad asks softly, Harry looks up. He hates meeting parents, it’s the second time he agreed to this.
He loves y/n so much. Harry couldn’t say no to her begging.
“What’s wrong dad?” She asks.
“Did I do something wrong? Did I upset him?” Her dad put the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.
“He’s shy. I already told you that,” she’s looking at Harry. He picks his nail polish and his leg is bouncing.
He raised his eyebrows, “what can I do to get him to talk to me?” Her dad is insecure; he never had to deal with a person this shy or shy in general.
“Talk to him about something he likes,” she put some ice cream in the bowl.
“And that is?”
“Music, he’s amazing at singing and playing the piano.”
Her dad took her advice and talked about music. He opens up. She whispers some praises in his ear and holds his hand under the table. It turned out that y/n dad loves him. He never said it to him but y/n told him. She knows the signs. He’s really happy about it after his lover told the prince. He even told his mom and she saw how happy her son is after this dinner with his girlfriend's dad.
Sixteen months into their relationship and y/n had only seen Harry in oversized hoodies, sweaters, jackets and long-arm shirts. Even when he wears long-arm shirts he wears a big jacket over it.
“I love you,” she murmurs in his chest, “so much.” Harry pulls her more into his body. “I love you, my lover.” Her grip on his body is strong. He pressed a kiss on her soft hair.
Harry loves these moments. He can be himself and he knows y/n won’t judge him. Harry heard those words for the first time from his lover.
Her prince didn’t like them. He pinched his eyes shut. It made Harry feel uncomfortable. He felt the knot in his throat tighten. The prince never thought that “I love you” would make him feel that way, again. He knows this time it’s different. His knuckles turned white from the way he holds his jacket. His chin rests on the top of y/n hair. “What’s wrong,” all she can see is his white knuckles. He feels sick to his stomach.
“Nobody will ever love me,” these words came so easily over his lips it hurt her to hear them. It sounded so painful in her ears. “You are lying! You don’t love me, it’s a fucking lie." She can hear his sobs.
“Harry,” she touched his white knuckles. He put some space between himself and y/n. His sobs are getting louder. He felt pressure, the feeling of the knot went to his chest. “What is wrong? Don’t you feel the same way about me?” She loves him, she never said that to anyone. It was the first these words came over her soft lips. She wasn't sure if this relationship works anymore. It can’t work anymore.
“You can’t love me,” the tears in her eyes form. Y/n was so vulnerable with him, and he just said those words. “Please don’t love me, I don’t deserve it.” It sounds like he doesn’t care about her. “I’m a freak.”
He always said those words but never got them back.
“Sunshine,” he turned around y/n only called him a couple of times, sunshine. “Don’t say those things about yourself.” He pinched his eyes shut; he never broke down before her. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“My ex saw me shirtless,” y/n sits down on the ground with him. Her soft fingertips wipe his tears away. He leaned into her touch. “I-I was really happy.” He swallowed the sobs.
“Yeah?” He nods, “then why are you freaking out about those words?” She asks softly. Harry takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself down. Y/n helped him a lot during the process.
“I had sex with her, without my sweater. She said it’s okay we’ll leave the lights off,“ he took a deep breath before the next thing he’ll say, “she switched them on. Everyone in school was wondering what was wrong with me.” Y/n touched his hand gently, “I loved her,” he let go of his jacket.
“I would never do that to you,” Harry doesn’t answer her. He doesn't feel good.
“I’m a freak,” he whispers into her smooth skin.
“My little freak,” she corrected him. A small chuckle came over his lips.
“Your little freak?”
“All mine, every inch is mine,” his smile grew bigger. His fingers fumble with the zipper of his jacket. She helps him out of his jacket, “are you sure?” A secure smile plays on his lips. She takes the hem of his long-arm shirt in her hands and pulls it over his head.
Y/n is scared to look at his chest, his lips placed a lazy kiss on hers, “it’s okay. You can look,” his palms are sweating. Y/n hears his sniffles. “I want you to see my body, it’s okay. I really want it.” His tears are still rolling down his cheeks.
Y/n lowers her head, she takes his body in. All the tattoos he hid underneath his big clothes. His pale skin and his body look so beautiful. She takes every inch in. Her eyes couldn’t leave his body. “It’s hard to believe you hid that beautiful body of yours, all that time.” She loves his butterfly tattoo already. “Thank you.” Y/n leaves her hands by herself, she doesn’t know if he wants her to touch them.
“You meant that I love you?” She hums, “I love you too,” on y/n cheeks and runs happy tears down. She never heard those words before. “I want a hug,” he opens his arms for her.
His girl always feels so safe in his arms.
After seventeen months she saw him walking around in a shirt at home only around her and his parents. He told y/n that he got bullied and had to change schools. He was suicidal, it this changed when he meet y/n. He wanted to be her friend and now he’s more. He told her about it and she felt sorry for him. No one deserves this.
“Harry,” she whines, “come back, it’s mine, please,” a whine came over his lips. She saw Anne in the kitchen cooking some food. She ran after him, he stole her blush and held it high in the air. She couldn’t reach it. “Harry,” she whines, “that’s unfair!” She pouts.
“Told ya, only need some compliments and you have the same effect,” she’s wearing a big shirt from him and his boxers. It’s now her shirt. He pressed his lips against her light pink lips. “It’s now mine,” she tugs his arm a bit down but he takes her blush in her other hand.
“Your 180 centimeters, that’s not fair,” she walks into the bathroom, maybe she finds something from Gemma. He pressed his lips against her ear and whispered softly something in her ear. “Pervert!”
“Can I do your blush?”
After twenty months, Harry is so comfortable with y/n that he sleeps shirtless. She couldn’t help it but always touched his skin. She draws little hearts on his back. It’s his favourite thing she does.
He knew she was the right one for him. For the first time, he saw her. Her little smile and her rosy cheeks and her hair, she’s perfect. She heard from his friends how kind she is and that she babysits on the weekends to get extra money.
He saw her often in the schoolyard enjoying herself with her friends. She laughed so much and she still does. The sun makes her skin glow. He has seen that glow so often on her.
His parents and her dad are really good friends, but Harry was too shy to say hello so he stood by his mom like a toddler who wants to leave. Now she's sleeping next to him cuddling by his side, little puffs of air leaving her lips.
He yawned and noticed his hard one. At first, he didn’t notice, but now it’s painful and he wants y/n to help him out. Most mornings it doesn’t happen but when it does he wants y/n help.
“Love please wake up,” he whispers in her hair. “Please, love you so much.” His lips leave some wet kisses on her neck.
“You're needy,” she murmurs and nuzzles her face more in his chest. Y/n kissed his chest. She loves his smooth, soft skin. “Go back to sleep.”
“Can’t ’M hard, hurts,” she can’t see his pout, “please baby,” he whines. Y/n couldn’t ignore it anymore. She wants him to cuddle with her.
“Handjob?” She asks.
“Need you wrapped about m’cock, please.”
“Go on,“ she whispers in his chest. Harry pulls her cozy pyjama pants down and his sweatpants. He dips his fingers in her warmth, she’s ready for him. All his whining got her worked up. She doesn't want to admit it, but it’s true.
“Can we go bare?” She doesn’t answer, “buy you a plan B after it.” She nods, “words, pretty girl.”
“Please,” she whines. Y/n opens her eyes a bit and sees him as nervous. “Just me is okay.” His head drops to her shoulder. “You don’t have to be dominant, be my Harry, please.” She keeps her fingers in his hair. She knows it calms him and he feels comfortable with her hand in his hair.
Harry grins his hips into hers, he gets some moans and whimpers out of her mouth. “Never wanted to do it without a shirt before I met you. Just nervous,” she feels his lips on her neck. She’s so happy to hear this come over his lips. She thought he didn’t want her to see him without.
It’s true love.
He’s careful with her, Harry knows that his girl is sensitive in the morning. They once had morning sex. She’s so whiny and audible in the morning. Y/n never was so loud until that one time. Y/n tried her best to keep her eyes open to see her pretty and vulnerable boyfriend. A gaps came over her lips, “love you too,” she whispers back.
A big smile creeps onto his plump lips. Her prince noticed how her eyelids fell shut, “stay awake,” he held her face “’M not going to do anything when you sleep.”
“I'm tired and wanna sleep again,” she whines.
He sees the tears build in her eyes, “‘s okay not long anymore then we can cuddle.” Harry knows how much she loved her sleep. She pulls him down on his neck and keeps his thrusts deep.
She tugs and reaches her hand through his hair “love you,” the sunlight leaves a beautiful glow in the room. She moans and whines into his neck.
It’s a beautiful late summer day.
“Look at me, please,” her prince keeps his eyes on her face. She’s glowing thanks to the sun. “Love you so much.”
They are so in love.
His soft lips left some light kisses on her own lips. His thrusts are slow and steady. She can’t help but pulls him deeper. Harry moans and whimpers too. He’s sensitive too and doing it without a condom feels incredibly good for him too.
Morning sex is the best.
All her soft whimpers and moans were music to his ears. The room is filled with sex sounds. Harry’s thrust is getting harder, clenched down on him. He hits all the right spots.
He stops a whiny sound coming out of her mouth, he pushes y/n soft, small hands from his shoulders. “Prince, are you okay?” She asks with a sleepy voice.
She knew he would always be the shy boy. It gets better but some days he doesn’t talk at all and keeps quiet around her. “Will you tell me what's wrong with you?” Y/n kissed his damp skin.
“I want to cover up.” He said with a broken voice.
She pouts, “really? Wanna draw some hearts on you.”
“That would help,” he smiles again. He takes his big hand in her small palm. He grounds his hips deeply inside her. Y/n immediately clenched down on him. She’s close, she draws hearts on his back and fills the air with pornographic sounds. “Fuck– come for me. Get me all dirty please,” he continues his deep thrusts.
Some whines and moans escaped both of their lips. He kept the pace filling her up to the brim, pleasure filled both of their systems. Harry peppers kisses around her covered chest, and kitten licks her breast. He teasingly took one of her clothed nipples into his mouth and sucked lightly. Each time he did that she moaned. “You are so handsome,” her fingers go through his damp hair.
Her orgasm came over her. She whines and moans into his mouth and Harry is close too. His balls are heavy and waiting for release. “I‘m– fuck close,” his eyes roll back in pleasure. He finished in y/n for the first time. His head drops to y/n shoulder as he rides his orgasm out. He stayed a short moment inside her warmth.
Her lover gets a warm washcloth, wipes her mess, cleans. As he promised her he cuddles again with her. She’s so tired all she wants to do is sleep. Harry helped her into some new boxers and a shirt. “Love you so much my angel,” he pressed a soft kiss onto her hair. He wore some boxers too and kept kissing y/n and thanked her.
“Love you too,” she murmurs. Another sentence she said was; “I’m obsessed with your body,” before falling back asleep. It made him smile so much and some happy tears ran down his cheeks.
They are definitely doing it again without a condom.
In which y/n is pretty sure her neighbor hates her, and Harry needs someone to take care of his bunny.
For y/n, the month of December was truly the best part of the year.
She absolutely loved getting into the holiday spirit: whether that meant hanging multi-colored fairy lights around her bed frame, baking snowman shaped cookies for her friends and family, or busting out her reindeer printed fuzzy socks – she loved it all.
And, more importantly, she loved getting three weeks off from school. Winter break meant the end of finals week, which meant no more flashcards waiting to be memorized or textbooks waiting to be annotated. Just pure holiday bliss and seasonal joy.
The only part of the holiday season that y/n wasn’t particularly fond of was New Years.
While many considered the new year to be a “new beginning,” y/n only really thought of it as the official end to her holiday joy. She never really indulged in the thought of new year’s resolutions – in fact, she found them to be quite silly. Why on Earth would someone create a half-hearted promise to themselves, knowing very well that they would give up on their goal one month into the new year? It seemed like a far too disappointing cycle for her.
But this year… this year was different.
The ending of this year also meant that the lease on her current apartment was ending. Now, don’t get her wrong! Y/n doesn’t hate her roommates or anything. She’s actually incredibly close with the three girls that she’d spent the last two years living with, and considers them to be some of her closest friends.
But, as the months went by, y/n realized that a two bedroom, one bathroom flat was far too small for four girls to peacefully coexist in. They were always nagging each other to clean the dishes, fighting over who gets to shower first in their tiny bathroom. And honestly… she was getting really tired of listening to Nia (a business major) rehearse presentations at 3 AM.
So, when y/n timidly mentioned that she was thinking about moving out, the three other girls agreed that their living situation wasn’t the most ideal, promised that they would still remain besties even if they didn’t live with each other, and began to search for their own places so that they could turn in their keys at the end of the year.
For the first time in her life, y/n had a place of her own. And that was honestly the best thing the new year could’ve brought for her.
It’s safe to say that the first morning y/n wakes up in her new apartment is undoubtedly one the most euphoric moments she’s ever experienced.
The window facing her bed allows for the morning sun to light up her room, slowly rousing her from her slumber. She blinks her eyes open, and it takes a moment for her to fully recognize that: no, she’s not dreaming and yes, she’s actually in her new apartment!
She sits up and stretches, flexing her muscles and twisting her back until she hears the delicious sound of her spine cracking – a sign that she’d slept through the night like a baby. Glancing out the window, she notices a little bluebird perched on her balcony’s railing.
Yes, a balcony!
It had actually been one of the main reasons she chose this apartment building. Although it was a rather small balcony, she immediately fell in love with it. The railings were twisted and had a rustic look that reminded her of the balcony Juliet would stand on in a Shakespearian play, and it overlooked a beautiful cobblestone street. When she first saw the balcony during the apartment tour, she immediately envisioned herself spending her mornings out here with a nice cup of tea, maybe doing her assigned readings out in the fresh air. There was just enough room for y/n to make a cozy little nook for herself, with fairy lights strung around railings and fluffy pillows piled on loveseats for her to chill out on.
She scrambles out of her bed and rushes over to the window, smudging the glass with her fingertips as her palms press flat against it. The glass is ice cold to the touch and fogs up around her nose, a sign of how cold the morning air outside must be. Dressed in a pair of flowery sleep shorts and a sweatshirt with her university’s logo embroidered on the front, she’s hardly dressed appropriately – but she slides the glass door open anyway and steps out onto the balcony. She can’t help it, she’s just so excited!
As soon as she slides the door open, the chilly air invades her senses, her lungs burning and legs prickling with goosebumps. She leans her forearms on the railing and looks at the street below, empty of any cars or people. Directly across the street from her building, she sees a small antique store, and right next to that, a cute little cafe with cartoonish snowflakes painted onto the glass windows. Dozens of other restaurants and boutiques line the street, not yet open but anticipating the rush of people that would most likely flood in within the next few hours. y/n makes a mental note to herself to text her ex-roommates and invite them to visit the coffee shop she currently had her eye on.
Yeah, maybe it was a little cold, and maybe there’s nowhere to sit, but honestly, all y/n could think about was how much she loved her brand new balcony in her brand new apartment.
Life couldn’t get any better than this.
Harry isn't too big on New Year’s resolutions.
You see, he’s not fond of forcing himself to do things (the more pressure he has on himself to finish something, the less he wants to do it), and he really doesn’t like dealing with the inevitable end of year disappointment that comes with not finishing what he starts. He knows the chances of him actually going through with his resolutions are quite slim, so he doesn’t find a point in establishing any.
Therefore, he really only has one goal for the upcoming year. Don’t let Thumper die.
Thumper is the love of Harry’s life. When Harry realized just how lonely living alone could get, he decided he needed a companion to love and care for. He had the fullest intentions of going to his local adoption center and befriending a little kitty like Evie (his cat back home) so that the two cats could get along when he visited his family. But, when he stepped into the adoption center and saw Thumper, tiny and frail compared to most bunnies his age, he knew he had found his new best friend.
So really, Harry’s only “resolution” is something he knows he wouldn’t be giving up on any time soon.
As he brews himself a steaming vanilla latte (with a shot of caramel cream on top), he gives Thumper a little bit of food, petting at the bunny’s furry cheeks as he nibbles some hay from his fingers. When he turns away momentarily to pour his brewed coffee into a mug, the rabbit proceeds to thump its clunky hind feet (hence the name), begging to be the center of Harry’s attention once again.
Obviously, Harry could never ignore his bunny’s pleas for love – so he quickly picks up his mug in one hand, and, similar to the way a mother holds their newborn baby, coddles Thumper to his chest with the other. Thumper tends to get uneasy when he’s high up from the ground, usually thumping against Harry’s forearms to display his displeasure, so Harry always makes sure he’s sitting or lying down when cuddling with his bunny. Taking a seat on his pink sofa, he turns the TV on to a random news channel and gently runs his hand up and down Thumper’s back, cooing every time the fluffy bunny twitches his tiny nose with approval.
Once Thumper is happily settled and Harry’s finished with his coffee, he places Thumper back into his comfy den and puts his dirty mug in the sink. Grabbing the watering can from right underneath, he fills the can until he has a suitable amount of water for the flowers he grows on his balcony.
Whistling along to a happy tune (“Whistle While You Work” from Snow White), he steps onto the balcony and takes a deep lung-full of the pristine air. The sky was serene, the morning dew was fresh on the railing, and everything was at peace.
That is, until an unrecognizable voice far too energetic for the tranquil calm of the morning startles him.
Harry drops the watering can out of surprise and whirls around, yelping out a “bloody hell!” before his eyes land on a stranger.
“Who are you?” he grumbles, putting a hand on his chest to calm his pounding heart, thumping hard from the scare.
The girl’s eyes widen, clearly not having expected to get such a reaction from her neighbor, and she carefully introduces herself, much quieter than the initial greeting she’d just given him. “Umm, I’m y/n. I just moved in.” She flashes him an apologetic smile, “Sorry for scaring you, wasn’t my intention.”
Harry looks down to assess the damage his startle caused. His watering can is on its side, laying in a puddle and steadily leaking out water, while his sock-covered feet are soaked through (one his biggest pet peeves are wet socks).
Looking back up to the girl, he sees her nervously chewing on her lip and fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt. She seems more scared of him than he had been of her, and very timidly makes eye contact with him, praying that he wouldn’t explode on her.
Harry saves his breath.
“That’s alright,” he responds as nicely as he can muster up (wet socks = grumpy Harry), picking up the watering can from the floor. He runs into his apartment, slipping on a new, dry pair of socks, refilling the watering can, and grabbing a towel to clean up his balcony.
Y/n still has her brows furrowed in distress when he comes back outside, quickly confessing, “I really am sorry… I didn’t mean to make you jump. I was just excited to meet my new neighbor, I guess.”
He doesn’t make eye contact with her when he says, “Don’t worry about it. Everything’s okay. No need to fret,” focusing his attention, instead, on making sure the floors are dry.
“I just moved in yesterday you know! I dunno if you saw all the boxes n’ stuff, but that was me!” Christ, was she still there? He thought she would’ve gone back inside after he gave so little attention to her.
Again, he barely looks in her direction when he responds, “I hadn’t noticed anyone was moving in.” His answer is short, clipped, and uninterested.
The girl carries on the conversation, “Yeah, I’m super excited about moving in and everything! It’s my first time living without anyone and it’s just so nice to have all this space to myself– y’know I made some cookies last night, and I was gonna bring ‘em over later today to introduce myself but since we already met I could totally bring them over–”
Harry cuts her off right there. “Don’t put yourself through the trouble,” he says tersely, sparing her one final glance before walking back into his apartment.
He holds eye contact with her as he slides the balcony door shut.
Y/n’s positive she’s made her neighbor hate her.
She’s drinking coffee with her ex-roommates, Sameera, Savanna, and Nia, at the coffee shop she saw earlier that morning from her balcony window, explaining her conundrum.
“I just don’t know what to do! I didn’t do anything to make him hate me. I mean, except for balcony thing, but obviously I didn’t mean to scare him! He wouldn’t even look at me!”
She tried to make things up to him, greeting him calmly on the balcony the next time they were out there at the same time, but only managed to get the grimest acknowledgement from him. He avoided eye contact with her whenever they passed each other in the hallways, would shut his door if he ever saw her coming out at the same time as him, and would stay silent if they ever got caught in the elevator together.
He hates her, she’s sure of it.
At this point, she’s honestly just given up, opting to just sit with her mug and book silently when he watered his plants on the balcony each morning. Far better than the hurt she’d feel when he’d inevitably ignore her if she tried to make small talk again.
“Maybe he’s got a fragile sense of masculinity and is embarrassed that he got scared by a girl,” Nia says, taking a bite of her croissant, “so now he can’t face you anymore.”
Sameera adds on to that, “Or he’s intimidated by you. Is he ugly? Ugly guys tend to be intimidated by pretty girls.”
Y/n is quick to deny this with a furrow in her brows. “Oh, but he’s not! He was really cute,” she pouts. Considering his reluctance to make eye contact with her during their short conversation, y/n had plenty of time to unabashedly admire her next door neighbor. He had chocolate brown hair, swept atop his head in messy waves and bright green eyes that glimmered in the dreary, gray morning weather. And though he had an intimidating demeanor, with his short attitude and furrowed brows, the fact that he was wrapped up in a fuzzy, lavender sweatshirt made him ever so endearing to her.
Call her crazy, but she has a bit of a crush.
“What’s his name?” asks Savanna, chiming into the conversation for the first time.
Y/n has to think for a moment before she responds. “I don’t think he even told me! I just said hey and he walked away from me!” She sits back and crosses her arms, huffing sadly, “Maybe this is a sign from the universe that I should just stay away from boys in general.”
“Don’t say that!” Savanna defends, “You’re beautiful and a total sweetheart. Nia’s right, he probably just has a bruised ego for now. Just be yourself and I’m sure he’ll come around.”
Being herself doesn’t work.
Yesterday, when she’d clearly been running with all of her groceries to catch the elevator, he made direct eye contact with her as the doors shut. Made no effort to hold the elevator for her. Just watched her struggle with her groceries as the elevators closed.
Y/n accepts the fact that he’s probably not going to come around.
It’s 10 PM on a Tuesday night when someone comes frantically knocking on y/n’s door.
She’d just been painting in her living room (a casual hobby of hers), dressed in a pair of dark blue, denim overalls splattered with paint, when out of nowhere someone was at her door, knocking as if they were in a life or death situation.
She has no idea who it could be, and is honestly a bit frightened considering this person is pounding on her door so violently, but she hurries over to the door. Peeking out of the peephole, she’s met with a very familiar furrowed brow.
It’s Harry, her next door neighbor. Except, for the first time, he looks more stressed than angry.
She opens the door, a bit embarrassed in her messy painting overalls. She chews on her lip and she stands nervously behind her door, almost as if she’s using it to protect herself. “Hi?” she says timidly, worried about why he might be at her door. Had she done something to make him angry? Was her music too loud or something?
His hair, normally curled atop his head neatly in chocolate colored swirls, now sticks out in every direction as if he’d been running his hands through it constantly, and his eyes are wide and frantic. “My sister…” he pants, out of breath as if he’d run a mile to get here, “She’s in labor. I-I have to go to see her, could you–,” he pauses to catch his breath, chest rising heavily. “Could you please take care of my bunny while I’m gone?”
She blinks for a second. This man, who’d been so cold and mean to her ever since she moved in, was in front of her door… begging her to take care of his bunny?
“Oh!” This was definitely not what she expected when she opened the door and saw Harry standing there. She thought that he was for sure about to yell at her for something, tell her to turn the music down or blow out her candles because he could smell them from his apartment.
This, however… this she could work with. Maybe it would make him finally come around.
“Yes!” she exclaims, after a second. “Oh my gosh, yes, of course! What do you need me to do?”
His shoulders sag with relief. “Thank you,” he says gratefully, letting out a deep breath. He knows that he hasn’t necessarily been the nicest to her and had been worried that she might tell him to fuck off (rightfully so), but he was desperate, and thankfully… she’s an angel.
He ushers her into his apartment, which (as respectfully as she can put it) looks like a tornado has just passed through it. A pile of unopened mail sits on his kitchen counter, abandoned in his rush to get packed, and what seems to be his dinner sits half eaten on his dinner table, fork thrown onto the table next to his plate with a piece of broccoli still hanging onto it. A lone suitcase sits in the middle of his living room, piled with clothes that aren’t folded – just haphazardly thrown in there. It’s abundantly clear that he’s been frantically rushing around his apartment, trying to pack all his stuff together while also figuring out what to do with Thumper.
“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes over his shoulder, double checking that she’s still within earshot with how fast he’s running around into his apartment. “I-I wasn’t planning on having to go see her so soon, she’s not due for another three weeks,” he rambles, messily shoving a pant leg into his suitcase as he zips it up. “But then she called, and she’s all alone, and–” he looks up at her with wide, earnest eyes, “I just have to be there for her.”
“Hey, don’t be sorry,” she says gently. “I totally get it. It’s no problem.”
He stares at her for a second, eyes flickering between hers, a soft look in his eye. It seems like he’s about to say something– but he stops himself. Instead, he walks over to a large bunny playpen, filled with hay and piles of soft blankets and towels.
Sitting atop one of those worn-out blankets is a fluffy white bunny, nibbling softly on a piece of hay. Harry reaches in and gently picks the little bunny up, who fits perfectly in the palm of his hand. “This is Thumper,” Harry introduces softly, his finger gently petting along the little bunny’s back. “Thumper, this is y/n. She’s gonna take care of you while I'm gone.” The little bunny’s nose twitches softly, chewing on his hay mindlessly.
Y/n doesn’t know what she expected from Harry, but it definitely wasn’t this. From all of her interactions with him, he just seemed so cold and mean and intimidating! But watching him pet his little bunny that sits so peacefully in his large, tattooed hands… hearing him talk to this tiny ball of white fur as if it’s a real person… well it just makes Harry look like a bit of a softie, to be honest. It’s a side of her grumpy neighbor that she never could’ve imagined.
“Hi Thumper,” she coos, taking a timid step forward. “You’re just the cutest thing in the world.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Harry says proudly, a soft dimple in his cheek as he smiles down at his bunny that he loves so much.
Passing Thumper over to her, he maneuvers her hands so that the bunny is resting comfortably. “He likes to be held like this,” he instructs, his hands brushing against hers, “On his stomach, so he can look around. Sometimes he gets a bit nervous when he’s too high up from the ground for a long time, so if he starts thumping that just means he wants to be put down again.”
She nods, copying the way he’d been holding Thumper to the best of her ability. The bunny feels so small and fragile in her hold and she’s terrified of hurting him – but Thumper just twitches his nose gently, completely unaffected by whatever is going on around him.
“This is where he sleeps and spends most of his time,” Harry continues, pointing down at the little den of blankets. “But if you can, try to take him outside for at least an hour everyday. I made the balcony bunny proof and there’s a little grassy area out there with all his toys, so just let him hop around there for a bit. Maybe hang out with him if you can, he’s really playful. It’s just really important for his health, to be outside and have some playtime.”
He puts his hands on his hips and stares at his bunny, who seems totally content in y/n’s arms. A weight is lifted off his shoulders, seeing that Thumper feels comfortable in the arms of this half-stranger. It makes him feel a little less guilty for having to leave him so suddenly.
Harry checks the clock. “Shit!” he cries, gathering his bearings once more. His sister lives almost two hours away, so he needs to leave now.
She follows him, Thumper still in his arms, as he scrambles towards the kitchen. “This is his food,” he says, pulling out a bag of leafy, green vegetables – a nice mix of lettuce, kale, cabbage, and parsley – from his fridge. “Give him a bowlful of these veggies twice a day. He’s not on a really strict schedule, just give him some whenever you have breakfast and dinner. And you saw, he has a bunch of hay in his cage too, which he snacks on all day, so it’s okay if you’re a little late.”
He’s running around his apartment, grabbing things and shoving them into his suitcase at the last minute, and calling out instructions to y/n as fast as he can – frantic, stressed out, with absolutely no time to waste. Y/n watches him with wide eyes, absorbing everything he says, while Thumper sits in her arms quietly completely unbothered by Harry’s frantic bustling.
“Um, if he’s being annoying or thumping or anything like that, give him a treat – they’re in this jar – and he’ll probably calm down. I’m pretty generous with the treats ‘cos he’s just such a good bunny, but also he needs to watch his diet, so I’d limit him to like… 10-12 pellets per day.”
He runs to the living room and picks up his suitcase, dragging it to the door frantically while still spewing out instructions. “He loves cuddling, and he’s a really good bunny so you can leave him on the couch or on my bed and he won’t like– chew anything up. And if it gets really cold at night he has a heating pad in his playpen, just put it in the microwave for a minute or two, and he’ll get on top of it if he wants.”
“Here’s my number if you need anything,” he says, scribbling down his phone number onto one of the abandoned pieces of mail sitting on his kitchen counter. “That’s a three, I know it doesn’t look like it, sorry!” He slams the pen down on the counter and runs into his bedroom, then hurries back out with a backpack, filled to the brim with all his toiletries and other essentials. What seems to be his phone charger hangs out of the front pocket, just about ready to pop out and fall to the ground, but he shoves it in and somehow manages to zip up the overstuffed bag.
“Okay,” he sighs, letting out a deep breath. Now that he’s all packed up and ready to go, he lets himself slow down for a second. He takes a look around to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, then turns around to face y/n. Thumper looks up at Harry with his cute little eyes.
“Alright bud, I gotta go,” he whispers quietly, petting the bunny’s cheeks. “Be good, okay?” He leans forward and presses a little kiss against Thumper’s forehead, his cheek brushing against y/n’s arm, who still has Thumper coddled to her chest.
“I should be back soon,” he says to y/n, looking at her with gentle eyes. “Thank you again, for taking care of him. I know it’s all last minute.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says with a smile.
Harry smiles back at her softly. The first time she’s ever seen him look at her with a smile. It makes her heart flutter happily, one step closer to making her neighbor stop hating her.
“Here’s the key to my apartment. I… I’ve got to go now. But text me if anything happens.”
With a final deep breath and a pat on Thumper’s head, Harry heads out the door and runs to the elevator.
And then it’s just y/n and Thumper, alone in Harry’s apartment.
Who would’ve thought.
Y/n doesn’t really have much experience with bunnies… but she imagines that if she were a bunny and her bunny Dad randomly left her with a stranger in the middle of the night, then she’d be a pretty stressed out bunny.
Luckily, Thumper seems pretty relaxed.
After Harry left, she just put him back into his playpen and watched him chew on some hay and relax on his comfy pile of blankets. She warmed up his heating pad, just as Harry instructed, but Thumper didn’t even need it. He just headed to bed like a good little bunny and went through the night peacefully, with only the occasional twitch of his nose and a little scuffle as if he were having a rabbit dream.
Just to be safe, y/n spent the night on Harry’s couch, sleeping right next to Thumper’s little pen just in case he started thumping in the middle of the night and needed some attention. In the morning, she scuttled back to her apartment to make herself a quick breakfast, then hurried back to give Thumper his morning veggies. And in the time that she’d normally spend reading on her own balcony, she instead went out onto Harry’s balcony and watched as Thumper happily hopped around in the grass and played with his little bunny toys.
She runs into very little problems while bunny-sitting for Harry, and actually finds herself particularly fond of this fluffy little creature. But she wonders, even if she has no questions for Harry, should she still send him a text? He left her his number in case she had any questions, but he’d probably wouldn’t mind an update text either? I mean… if she were a Bunny Dad and she had to randomly leave her bunny in the middle of the night, then she’d probably want to know that her bunny was safe and happy!
After much overthinking and lots of nervous pacing around Harry’s kitchen, she decides to send him a text. A simple, “Hi, it’s y/n!” accompanied with a cute picture of Thumper, chomping on some lettuce with his floppy ears hanging cutely and his big eyes glimmering. She then follows it with another text, saying that they just ate some breakfast together and went out on the balcony for some morning playtime.
She throws her phone down after she sends the text, beyond nervous to be sending messages to the grumpy neighbor that had scared her for so long. She jumps when her phone chimes with a message less than a minute later, apologizing to Thumper who gives an annoyed thump, as if he’s telling her to stop being so dramatic.
“How’s he behaving?” reads Harry’s response.
“Like an angel!” she says. “Slept through the night without any thumping and had lots of fun playing in the grass.”
“Good,” he texts back, and she thinks that’s the end of it. But after a minute another message comes through. “Give him an extra treat from me, he deserves it :)”
A smiley face! Who knew grumpy Harry knew how to use smiley faces.
She sends back a picture of Thumper with his treat. And a smiley face for good measure.
Harry comes back home five days later.
He’d managed to make it to the hospital just in time. His sister had been in active labor on her own for about four hours at that point, and spent another four hours in excruciating pain once Harry got there. His mum arrived around 45 minutes after he did, and Miles (his sister’s husband, aka the father of this child), arrived last, only about 30 minutes before she was fully dilated and ready to start pushing.
All of them had scrambled to make it there on time, considering how unexpected and early his sister went into labor. He’s just thankful that Miles and his Mum were there too, so that he wouldn’t have to be the one holding her hand while she pushed (as supportive as he wanted to be, he had to leave the room or else he would’ve passed out).
The baby did come a bit early, but after a few tests the doctors said that she was fine, just a bit smaller than usual! They spent the night in the hospital, just to be safe, and were discharged to go home as a happy little family the next morning.
Harry and his mum stayed with Gemma and Miles in their cozy little for a few days, helping around the house while the new parents rested and recovered. Harry helped with the finishing touches of the nursery and went out shopping for extra diapers and baby toys, while his mom cooked homey meals for her kids and tutted over her new granddaughter.
It was nice for them to be all together again, celebrating the newest addition to their happy family, but after a few days the guilt of being away from Thumper for so long was growing too heavy. His mum promised to stay with Gemma and make sure that she’s recovering well, and with a kiss to his newborn baby niece, he headed back home to his precious baby bunny.
He unlocks his door, dragging his suitcase in behind him, and faintly hears a soft, sweet voice from inside. He abandons his suitcase and tiptoes closer and closer to the voice. He finds y/n, out on his balcony with Thumper.
“You are so cute!” she says to Thumper, sitting on her knees and rolling a little ball towards him, which Thumper nudges back with his nose. “I wish I could give you another treat, but your Dad said not to give you too many… I dunno though, should we break the rules a little bit? One extra treat since you’re being such a good bunny?”
Thumper’s nose twitches excitedly, as if he knows that she’s about to reward him with another treat, and Harry’s heart flutters in his chest. This scene – y/n, talking to his little bunny as if he’s a real person, coddling him and giving him treats – it’s a bit endearing. He tries to stop the soft smile growing on his face, to ignore the fuzzy feeling in his tummy… but he can’t help it. He’s endeared.
He tries to casually lean against his couch and watch the scene for a few more moments, but he accidentally knocks a pen off of his coffee table, making y/n yelp and turn around. “Oh!” she bubbles, “Hi Harry!”
He straightens himself out and clears his throat, wiping the silly smile off his face and trying to come off as neutral as possible. “Hello,” he says, with a polite nod of his head.
“How was your sister? Did you have a nice trip?”
“Y-yeah it was good, thanks,” he twists his hands nervously behind his back. “She had a little baby girl. Healthy and happy. It was really nice.”
Y/n’s eyes round out, a soft glimmer in them. “Oh, I’m so happy to hear that.”
He ignores the fluttering in his stomach, and wipes away the nervous sweat of his hands onto his pants. “Um– How was Thumper?”
“A right angel!” she exclaims, picking Thumper up and handing him over to Harry. “Wish I could steal him from you. If you ever need me to watch him again, don’t be afraid to ask, I loved hanging out with him.”
Harry can’t help the dimple that pops out on his cheek, blushing slightly at her kind words and pretty smile. “I– Really, I can’t thank you enough.”
“No worries, honestly! Just don’t be a stranger,” she says, a playful glimmer in her eye.
The next morning, sitting on her balcony with her mug in hand, she watches anxiously as Harry steps out of his apartment with his watering can.
Would things go back to normal, with him ignoring her and hating her and pretending she doesn’t exist? Or… has he finally come around?
She holds her breath as he slides his balcony open. He looks at her. She looks at him.
He breaks a smile. “Good morning,” he says, dimple in cheek.
“Good morning, Harry,” she responds with a grin.
Y/n hates thunderstorms.
She hates the sound of thunder, hates how loud and unexpected it is. Hates how her entire body trembles when thunder crashes outside her window, hates how she can feel it shake her apartment. And lightning… don’t even get her started on lightning! She has a recurring nightmare that she’s sound asleep, only to be woken up by electrocution ‘cos the lightning bolt decided her bed was the perfect place to land.
Now, when she lived in her old apartment, she was lucky enough to have amazing roommates who would comfort her during really bad storms. She could sit and talk with Sameera until the storm passed, watch a movie with Savanna to block out the sounds of thunder. Sometimes, if the storm was really bad, Nia would even cuddle y/n to sleep so that she’d calm down. Y/n would bury herself in her roommate’s loving arms, hiding her face in Nia’s chest as she willed away the anxiety attacks and tried not to cry every time she felt the rumbling thunder outside.
Now that she lives on her own, however, she has nobody to comfort her.
She thought it’d be fine, told herself that she’s far too grown to still be hiding in her closet whenever it rained a little bit outside! So she climbed into her bed, snuggled herself under her blankets, and turned on a movie, ignoring the storm outside to the best of her ability. With her pretty fairy lights turned on, her favorite movie playing (Pride and Prejudice 2005), and her headphones blocking out all the thunder, she was 100% confident that she’d be able to get through the night all on her own!
That is… until the power went out.
Her movie paused, her heater went silent, and her fairy lights suddenly turned off. She tried to turn on the main light in her room, but the light switch flicked on and off with no effect. Same with her desk lamp, and the light in her bathroom. Everything was pitch black.
Sitting in the dark, with only flashes of lightning to illuminate her room… it was terrifying for y/n.
She scrambled to turn on the flashlight on her phone, and felt her heart drop when she saw that she was only at 9%. How was she going to survive the night without her phone? She rushes around, trying to see if she has any extra flashlights or candles… but her emergency flashlight has no batteries, and although she has a wide variety of candles to choose from… she has no matches in her new apartment.
She’s thoroughly fucked.
A bolt of lightning strikes outside, followed by a crash of thunder that makes y/n yelp and fall to the floor. She’s on the verge of tears, with nowhere to turn and nothing to comfort her… when she gets a text.
Harry: Everything alright in your apartment?
Her hands tremble as she types out a response.
Not really :( she responds. trying to find a flashlight or something but im having no luck and my phones gonna die soon :(
Another rumble of thunder shakes her apartment. She closes her eyes and tries to regulate her breathing with shaky inhales and whimpery exhales.
Harry responds a minute later.
Do you want to come over to mine?
PART 2 IS ALREADY POSTED ON PATREON :) HOPE U LOVE EM!!!!
SKIN CARE & AWARD SHOWS
↳ In which Harry uses a face mask before the Brits and has a deep conversation with y/n
Warning: sweet sweet fluff and a little article at the end! Please reblog and show some love if you enjoyed, i appreciate it! Anyways, have fun reading :)
It was no secret that Harry took care of his skin, from the very get-go, the first concert he ever had to perform, the night before, he stood in front of his mirror applying his face mask. And now ten years on, he was sitting on his bed, his beautiful wife sat opposite him, slathering his soft skin with a layer of creamy goodness.
“Harry, stop wiggling!” She whined, trying her best to smooth out the cream all over his perfect face. Harry smiles, listening to his wife, but not before cheekily sticking his tongue out and licking her hand that was hovering over his lips as she applied the mask to his nose.
“Oi!” She giggled, playfully slapping her annoyingly handsome husband on his thigh causing him to let out a belly laugh. “God, you’re so annoying”
“You love it though” he smiles, “it’s why you married me” Y/n rolls her eye, as she works on applying the face mask onto his forehead. She appreciates the headband Harry put on earlier, to keep his unruly locks out of her way.
“Is this the pore cleanser one?” Harry asked, looking at his wife, he was in awe of her. To him, his wife was the most beautiful person to ever grace the earth. To him, she was his everything. Harry often finds himself saying that he would be lost without her, he wouldn’t know what to do. Apparently, y/n keeps his head screwed on, she grounds him and sometimes humbles him. It’s what a man needs, he says, someone to not only love you but to keep you sane and make sure your ego doesn’t inflate too much.
“Mhm, it also calms the skin, helps any breakouts. I know you get some before a show, so this is perfect” y/n says as she finally applies the mask to his chin. She knew it’d be a good time to bring this mask out seeing as the Brits were approaching. The Brits meant a lot to Harry, his whole family would be watching and as he was opening the show, y/n knew he’d hate for a breakout to start right before.
“So thoughtful” Harry hums softly and a smile tugs on his face as his wife pulls back, inspecting her work. “Done?” He questions, earning a nod from his partner.
“All done” she smiles. “Just got to wait until it hardens now” she says.
“Whilst the mask hardens, I’ve got something else for you that I’m sure would harden up in a second” he smirks, eyeing his own junk, and y/n rolls her eyes as she realises what he’s referring to
“God, you just had to go and ruin the moment, didn't you? You can’t help yourself mister” she giggles and Harry laughs.
“It’s hard to contain myself around you, you’re m’everything. Y’know that, right?” Harry smiles, tucking y/ns hair behind her ear as he tugs her over towards himself.
“Be careful!” She warns as Harry ends up on his back, y/n now straddling him. “Don’t want to ruin my masterpiece” she spoke, referring to the face mask.
“Oh no! Would never want to do that, what a tragedy that would be” sarcasm thick in Harry’s voice. It was one of the many things y/n loved about him; his humour. It was very British, but also very funny. To y/n, Harry was the funniest man on the planet, but she didn’t dare tell him that, why boost the ego of a man who had millions of people going crazy over him any more than it already was? To y/n, Harry was also the sweetest, the best thing to happen to her. He came into her life and made it so much better, God what would she do without him and his humour to get her through the day?
“You’re so adorable” y/n speaks, her hands on Harry’s chest as she took him in, some parts of the facemask were now hardening, like the part around his nose and beneath his eyes.
“That should be my line” Harry jokes, “but thank you, baby. You’re not too bad either”
“You’re such a meanie” she pouts and Harry reaches up to carefully pull her lips towards his own, there was no doubt that some of his face mask had transferred onto y/ns face but she didn’t mind.
“I’m only kidding baby” he says, pulling back, “I was serious before y’know that? You’re my everything, my most favourite person. Sometimes, it blows my mind, like I actually found my person you know?” He ponders.
“It’s crazy, isn’t it? I’m glad to be your person, I love you so much” smiling, she leans in for another kiss.
“I love you so much too, I’m happy to call you my person” Harry says, gently squeezing his wife’s side, happy that he found his lifelong companion and soulmate, happy that he knew he’d wake up to the same person by his side every day for the rest of his life, something he thought would once be impossible. You proved all his inner thoughts wrong and he couldn’t be happier.
And he certainly showed his appreciation when he won his four Brit awards, thanking you in each and every speech.
A CLEAN SWEEP FOR STYLES! HARRY STEALS THE SHOW WITH HIS BIG FOUR WINS
The former one direction star won all four Brits he was nominated for, including best album and best artist.
It was no surprise when Harry opened the show with his hit song, As it was, which later went on to win song of the year. Fans were, as expected, chanting the anthem back at him.
Styles looked absolutely amazing tonight, sporting four different looks for this occasion. Onlookers went on to say that although he looked absolutely stunning tonight and did have his fair share of jokes with the crowd, he made it quiet obvious that he is a happily married man.
During his acceptance speeches, Harry didn’t fail to recognise and shout out his wife, Y/n Styles, going on to say that she was his “forever muse” and that he would be “no where without her”
He also thanked his mum for pushing him to audition at x-factor, claiming that he “wouldn’t be standing here” if it weren’t for her. One thing we all know for certain is that Harry is a family man and we love him for that.
Even during his post award show interview, Harry was seen thanking his wife with a kiss on her lips before talking about how she was “always there for him” and this “album would be impossible to make without her” so cheers to y/n for these bangers.
He also mentioned how he was planning on “having a drink” so we hope he has a great rest of the night! A true champion like him deserves that.