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#harry’s house
styleswithaseaview · 2 months
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sometimes babygirl is an (almost) 30 year old man
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School Pick Up.
masterlist || ask me anything <3
my blurb masterlist is here !!
authors note - these photos just screamed dad!harry so enjoy ☺️
word count - 700
in which, harrys on school pick up duties for his little one, and it’s his babies favourite time of the day when he sees his best friend, his father standing at the gates.
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Harry stood patiently at the school gates, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow around him. His daughter, Indigo, was finishing up her day in school any moment now, and he couldn't wait to see her.
With his signature pink phone case pressed to his ear, he listened intently to his wife, (Y/N), who was asking him to stop by the shop on the way home to get some bread.
"Hey, lovie, everything okay?" Harry greeted warmly, a smile playing on his lips as he leaned against the gate.
"Hi, H. Could you do me a favour and pick up some bread on your way home? We're fresh out, and you know how Indi loves her beans on toast after school," (Y/N) requested, her voice carrying a hint of urgency.
Ah, of course.
Since Indigo had started school back in September, each day after school either you or harry would whip her up some beans on toast, it was like her little treat for getting through the school day because god knows she hated going to that place.
Most morning you would drop her off and she would be hysterical, clinging onto you like a tearful little monkey crying out that she wanted her ‘daddy!’
"Of course, no problem. Anything else you need?" Harry replied, already mentally adding bread to his list of errands.
"No, that's it for now. If I remember anything else I’ll text you, Thanks, baby," (Y/N) said gratefully, her tone softening with appreciation.
"You're welcome, lovie. See you soon," Harry said, already looking forward to their reunion.
As the school bell rang, signalling the end of the day, Indigo's teacher led her class out of the building. Being in reception, Indigo's class was among the first year groups to come out.
The children, still buzzing with energy from the day's activities, chattered excitedly as they followed their teacher in a neat line.
Indigo, with paint smudges on her uniform and her brown hair now a tousled mess from a day of play, eagerly scanned the crowd of parents waiting at the gate.
Her heart leaped with joy when she spotted her dad, leaning against the gates. With her bag hanging off her shoulder, she couldn't contain her excitement.
"Mr Anderson, look, there's my daddy!" Indigo exclaimed, tugging at her teacher's sleeve to get her attention.
Her teacher smiled warmly and nodded, understanding Indigo's eagerness to reunite with her father. "Go on, Indigo. Have a wonderful evening."
With her teacher's permission, Indigo dashed towards Harry, her small feet barely touching the ground as she called out,
"Daddy!"
Harry's heart melted at the sight of his daughter running towards him. He pushed himself off the gate and opened his arms wide, ready to catch her.
As Indigo reached him, she threw herself into his embrace, her laughter filling the air.
"Hey, my indi girl!" Harry greeted, lifting Indigo up and spinning her around, his heart brimming with love and joy.
Harry placed her down on the floor before heleaned down to Indigo's level, a playful glint in his eyes. "How was school today, sweetheart?"
Indigo's face lit up with excitement as she recounted her day. "It was really good, Daddy! I played with my friend Tommy, and we made a castle out of blocks in the sandbox."
Harry chuckled, tousling her hair affectionately. "Tommy, huh? Sounds like y’had a blast. But y’know the rule, no boyfriends until you're thirty-five, alright?"
Indigo wrinkled her nose in mock disgust. "Ew, no, Daddy! Tommy's not my boyfriend. Boys are yucky!"
Harry couldn't help but laugh at her exaggerated reaction. "Oh, really now? Well, s’a relief. M’not ready for you to have a boyfriend just yet."
Indigo nodded vigorously, her brown hair bouncing with each movement. "Me neither, Daddy! Boys are gross!"
Harry smiled, feeling a surge of affection for his daughter's innocence. He squeezed her hand gently, grateful for these lighthearted moments together. "S’my girl. You focus on having fun and being yourself. No need to worry about boys just yet."
Indigo grinned up at him, her dimples deepening. "Okay, Daddy! I'll remember that."
"Alright, Indi, it's time to go home and see Mummy," Harry said, gently guiding his daughter away from the school gates.
Harry brushed his finger over her knuckles, “You know what that means indi girl?”
She gleamed up at him, dimples shining. Before exclaiming:
“Beans On Toast!”
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itsallyscorner · 10 months
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Maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two | H.S
pairing: boyfriend!Harry Styles x reader
summary: you unintentionally help Harry with a song he’s been struggling to write
warnings: a lil on the cheesy side tbh, but she’s cute. Mentions the pandemic
a/n: this was one from the drafts, originally written when Harry’s House was released and I finally got around to finishing it :)
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Sometime during 2020 and the pandemic
His soft murmurs and humming were the only sounds that can be heard in his makeshift studio. The occasionally creaking of the house or him clicking his pen would break the silence from time to time. His frame was hunched over on the burnt orange colored couch, with his knees almost pressed against his chest, the couch was far too small for his tall figure. However, he liked the couch and it was comfy to lay on when he took breaks from writing. The journal he used to jot down lyrics was balanced on his left knee while his right hand scribbled words on the paper sloppily.
He had just gotten off a zoom call with Kid, Mitch, and some other members who he’s been working with for his new album. While they were supposed to be working in the studio for today’s session, one of the writers had come down with a cold. While it wasn’t confirmed to be COVID, Harry and his team decided it would be safe if everyone just isolated themselves for a while until further notice. Harry actually enjoyed the thought of working on the album at his home. He considered this to be one of the most intimate albums he’s ever made. The artist in him believed that being in the place where he’s comfortable being vulnerable would allow him to write more personal songs. Being home also allowed him to be closer to his muse—you.
The small claw clip holding his fringe from his face began to feel a bit too tight and his eyes were straining against the warm toned light to look at the page on his journal. He had been stuck on a certain verse for a while now and couldn’t bring himself to just call it a day on writing. He had been on the grind when he first started it, but all of a sudden his verses were turning into single words waiting to be properly knitted into a song. So far, some words/phrases he had were:
Wine glass
Puff pass
Side boob ;)
Cocaine
Toothache
Yellow sunglasses
They were the most random and absurd words to be grouped together, yet he knew he was going somewhere with whatever he had. His train of thought came to a halt when your voice rang through the room.
“Hey, you”
His eyes shifted towards your voice and there you were leaning against the door frame. You wore one of his old sweatshirts, which came up to your knees, and some socks on your feet. You weren’t wearing much but your presence and the soft smile gracing your features screamed comfort to him.
The slight frown on Harry’s face turned into a smile that resembled yours. Pushing off of the door frame, you slowly approached Harry’s spot on the couch.
“Hi angel.” He greeted you, spreading his legs out to make space for you. You happily make your way in between his legs and settle on the floor. You crossed your legs and sat so you were looking up at him. Harry craned his neck to place a kiss on your temple, his lips continuing to move down your face to spread little kisses all over your face. When he got to your lips he placed a soft peck on them with a smile on his own pinkish lips.
“Hope you don’t mind me bothering you.” You tease, the sweet smile still on your face. Harry scoffs playfully, “Y’never a bother to me. I missed you today, what’ve y’been up to?”
He’s been in the “studio” since the morning, having a quick breakfast with you and immediately hopping on zoom to work with his team. It was now 6pm and you couldn’t recall seeing or hearing your boyfriend leave the room throughout the day for a break or a snack—which led to you checking in on him.
“Not much, finished up some things for work and caught up on some Love Island.” You shrugged, Harry rolling his eyes jokingly at the mention of the reality tv show. “How ‘bout you? Was today’s session successful?” You ask. Harry hums, reaching for his journal.
“S’half ‘n half. We finished that track we wrote last month—don’t know if y’remember it—but it turned out really great. I have a good feeling ‘bout it once it’s out.” He began while still flipping back to the page he last wrote on. “I started writing another, b’now I’m just stuck. M’brain feels like it can’t think of anything else, s’blank.” He ranted using his hands to express his emotions. You let out a chuckle as you avoid one of his large hands waving around from hitting your face.
“Maybe it’s time for you to take a break, H. You’ve been here all day, god knows how long you’ve been slouched on this couch.” For emphasis, you nudge said couch, Harry shooting you a look.
“S’not a bad couch, leave m’couch alone.” He pouts, silently agreeing that it was definitely time for a break. You duck out of his arms and get up, walking towards the door. Harry follows, moving to get up but halts his movements when a crack comes from his back. You swiftly turn around with your eyes wide and an amused look.
“Oi m’back!” Harry exclaimed in shock. He stood there for second before making eye contact with you. The two of you burst out laughing.
“I fucking told you!” You pointed at him, only to be gently pushed out the door by Harry who was muttering for you to “shuddup”.
Despite the two of you being home, Harry linked his fingers with yours while you both walked to the kitchen. His large hand engulfed yours, his rough thumb stroking the top of your hand.
“I’m actually hungry.” Harry thought aloud once the kitchen came to view. He was wondering what he should eat, deciding between leftovers, cooking, or ordering in. However, he let out a gasp when he saw food already on the table.
He turned around to you beaming, “Y’made my favorite!” On the dining table were pancakes, hash browns, eggs, and coffee. Even though he was eating healthier, Harry believed that one can never go wrong with breakfast for dinner. The main reason why he loved it was because of a memory you both shared during the early stages of your relationship.
The two of you had overslept at his house after movie night and skipped dinner. By the time you both woke up, everything was closed. So the two of you ended up rummaging through his kitchen only to find eggs, pancake mix, frozen hash browns, and coffee. Harry loved that night so much because it was the moment you two truly got to know each other more and connected. It was like finally breaking the barrier of whatever was holding you back from one another. Till this day he remembers the sleepy haze behind your eyes as you shared stories from your past. Your mascara smudged beneath your eyes and your hair was a mess, but none of that mattered because he thought you were beautiful either way. Ever since that night, the two of you would have breakfast for dinner as a staple in your household.
While Harry piled two plates with eggs, pancakes, and hash browns, you filled up two mugs with coffee. Harry liked his black, while you liked yours with a bit of cream and sugar. The two of you settled in the living room, ditching the dining table because it just wasn’t comfy enough. You smiled down at your plate—which had maple syrup dripping down a tower of pancakes—as Harry picked a record to put on. Call it old school, but it was one of the normal things keeping you sane during this lockdown. He had chosen one of his Elvis ones. The same one he played that first night you had breakfast for dinner.
You sat across each other on the couch, feet nuzzled together and your knees bumping alongside the other. The sound of your forks and knives scratching against the plate filled the room along with Elvis’s voice on the record player.
Harry had forgotten he had been writing the entire day. Instead, he remembered all the places you traveled to and the memories you made together on those trips. Being stuck at home for months made the both of you crave the outside world and the normality of it all. Though as much as you wanted to book a trip to Italy, it wasn’t safe to leave the country.
It felt like the world was ending, but to Harry it didn’t feel like it because he was with you. You brought light to the darkness—yes, it was cheesy—but it was the only way Harry knew how to describe being with you.
You guys spent the night eating and reminiscing on past memories you made together. As the hours passed, your plates were now empty and on the coffee counter, while you had found your way into your lover’s arms. His arms held you close to him as your body rested perfectly against his. Your head laid upon his chest, allowing you to feel him breathe and hear the beating of his heart. You were surrounded by his warmth and it was truly all you ever wanted.
Harry could feel you dozing off, your sentences had gotten shorter and your voice had a slight slur. With his nose against your temple he whispered, “Y’know I’ll always love you, right?”
You shifted your head to look into his dark emerald eyes, “Yeah.”
His eyes squinted at you playfully, “How so?” He tested you.
“Because I know I’ll always love you too.”
Then just like that, a spark set off in his head, and all of a sudden the words he has jotted down earlier that day made sense.
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shawnxstyles · 1 year
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holy fuck
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cupid-styles · 8 months
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come on, disco queen*
Word count: 6,200+
70s!Harry and virgin fmc!! Enjoy disco bbs 🪩🍒💌🔮🫶🏼🩷
Smut CWs: dirty talk, talk of anal, fingering, squirting, fmc being a pillow princess hehe
Daisy's limbs are haphazardly thrown askew over the length of the couch when Harry walks into the apartment he shares with his sister, Willow.
He resists the urge to roll his eyes at her appearance; her stature barely covered in a crocheted halter top and a hopelessly tiny pair of denim shorts. She's barefoot, eyes closed and buried in the crook of her elbow. He assumes he's sleeping as he kicks his sneakers off and moseys into the kitchenette, focusing on the all-consuming dryness coating his throat and mouth.
San Diego in the middle of summer was not for the faint of heart.
She lifts her head up when her ears perk up at the sound of someone shuffling through the kitchen. She expects to see Willow, but instead is met with Harry, and huffs, dramatically tossing her head back against the woven pillow.
"Don't you have a home?" Harry finally bites, breaking the silence between the two. The only other sound echoing through the area of the apartment is the large fan Harry managed to snag with some leftover cash from his paycheck earlier this summer. Even though it's not efficient enough to cool down the entire place, it's decent at breaking down the sticky humidity.
"It's too hot to move." Daisy mutters. He glances over, trying to ignore her uncovered midriff and the way her breasts are barely covered by the white stitches of her top. This time, he does roll his eyes — it's not that he doesn't like his sister's best friend, it's just that if she was going to hang around the apartment, especially without Willow, then maybe she could cover up just a little bit more.
"Better start pitching in for electric then," he utters between sips of lukewarm tap water. "Willow still at work?"
Daisy sits up now, her long brown hair mussed by what Harry can only assume is an afternoon of laying down on his couch. She nods, blinking her eyes slowly as they adjust to the warmth of the room. It was one of Harry's favorite parts of the apartment — the way the sun hit in the late afternoon, effectively making it glow.
"Yeah. I think she swapped shifts with the pregnant girl she works with so she went in later. Think she said something about being home around 10 tonight?"
Harry nods as he finishes his glass of water, giving it a quick rinse and placing it on the dish towel they used for drying.
"You sticking around then?" he asks, leaning his hip against the refrigerator and crossing his arms over his chest. Daisy shrugs and glances up at the clock, her eyebrows raising slightly when she reads the time.
"Was thinking about hitting the record store before they close. I wanted to grab that new Fleetwood Mac album. I haven't been able to get that one song out of my head since I heard it on the radio the other day — you can go your own way, or something?"
Harry nods knowingly. He'd been a fan of Fleetwood since they release their last album and had been first in line to snag their most recent.
"Rumours, yeah?" He asks, and Daisy lights up, her eyes wide, "I have it. There's this one incredible song — "Dreams" — and it's all Stevie. The lyrics are amazing."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Harry replies, "I'm surprised you didn't already snag it when it came out."
Daisy works at the local record store which, if Harry's being completely honest, is kind of his dream job. He thinks it's really cool that she gets to check out all the newest music and has first dibs on albums, even if their music taste differed sometimes — he tended to lean more towards Led Zeppelin, while Daisy favored Donna Summer.
"It's been sold out for ages," Daisy says with a shrug, "I swear, there was a week where it was the only record I sold."
Harry chuckles at that and opens the refrigerator, reaching in to grab a can of Miller.
"You want one? I moved the player into my room 'cos of that party Willow threw a few weeks ago, when that kid almost ralphed all over it," Harry rolls his eyes, "We can listen to it in there, if you want."
Admittedly, Daisy is taken aback just a tad. She's been hanging around Willow for the past few years — she's originally from the Pacific Northwest and moved out to San Diego shortly after graduating high school, chasing a pipe dream on the tail end of '60s-fueled free love, only to find a major culture change in the early '70s.
The war out in Vietnam had created a ton of tension and, on her second day here, she spent the morning at a diner, her green eyes widened and glued to the hazy television reporting on the latest death count. She rolled her eyes when an older man huffed past her, mumbling something under his breath about being a sensitive hippie — she wasn't, she just had a compassionate heart — but she felt slightly seen when one of the waitresses sat down in the booth next to her, coffee pot in her hand, her own face crawling with horror.
They sat there in silence as the local news anchor read off the names of American soldiers that had passed in combat.
"'s heartbreaking, isn't it?"
Daisy turned to look at the waitress, a tanned, fresh-faced girl with curly brown hair.
"Totally freaky," Daisy sighed out with a shake of her head.
"You know anyone out there?" The girl asked, nudging her chin the direction of the television. Daisy was fortunate; she'd known a few guys from high school that had been unlucky enough to get drafted shortly after their 17th birthday, but that was it.
"No, thankfully not. You?"
The waitress pursed her lips, "No. My brother would've gotten picked for sure if he was an American citizen. Lucky for us, we're still working on the whole immigration thing. Brits and whatever."
"That's a trip." Daisy breathed, and the girl nodded.
"Totally." She stood from the booth and reached over to refill Daisy's coffee cup. "Are you new to town?"
"What, the duffel give it away?" Daisy smirked, making the girl laugh out loudly.
"Far out. Do you have a place to stay? You seem nifty, my brother and I have some room if you need a couch to crash on."
The rest, she supposes, is history.
Daisy only stayed at Harry and Willow's place for a month or so before nabbing a job at Sam's Records. Thanks to their generosity, she was able to save up to snag a small loft in the neighborhood, but she was happy.
She was especially happy when she was around Harry, too.
He didn't express a huge interest in Daisy, and she soon found out it was because he was a casanova of sorts. He worked hard, enough to maintain the apartment and pay the bulk of the rent and bills, but he was constantly bringing girls back for quickies. Willow would roll her eyes and gag, Daisy would ignore the twinge of jealousy in her heart.
So that's why she's a little surprised when Harry makes an offer to actually hang out without Willow. They normally ignore each other or make small talk until Willow gets home from work or relieves them of their awkward conversation. They haven't really spent too much time together one-on-one in the five years Daisy's been in San Diego.
But she's not foolish enough to let this opportunity to waste — it'd be a lie if she said she wasn't just a little bit attracted to Harry. Besides, with the amount of people he hooked up with, she as undeniably curious about what he had to offer.
"Yeah, sounds groovy," Daisy replies, standing from the couch and stretching her achy limbs out. She swears she catches Harry's eyes linger a little too long on the swell of her breasts beneath her top, but quickly convinces herself otherwise as he digs in the fridge for another beer. She follows him into his bedroom, a space that Daisy could recall being in only twice before: Once, a few days into her initial stay here when she was high off a few bong hits and thought she was walking into Willow's room, only to be met with a strawberry blonde straddling Harry's lap, mid-makeout (she'd quickly stammered and shut the door closed before Harry's eyes could even flutter open), and another time, with Willow, when she was looking for her Elton John record.
Both times, Daisy hadn't taken much of his room into view, instead feeling equally awkward and uncomfortable that she was there without his actual invitation. So when Harry places the two beer cans on his nightstand and strides over to his record player to turn Rumours on, she peeks at the little details of his space — a myriad of Polaroid photographs, some of friends, some with friends, some of people she didn't recognize.  A stack of worn paperback books with swollen spines next to his bed, and Daisy feels her eyes widen when she notices Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique on top. She knew Harry was liberal and kind and all, but she never expected to find feminist theory literature in his room.
She's taking in the tacked up band posters covering the walls when the soundly crackle of vinyl fills the room. Harry turns with a cheeky smile on his lips as he places the record insert back in its sleeve, then nudges his chin in the direction of the sweaty, unopened cans of Miller.
"I heard they're supposed to play LA sometime this fall," Harry finally breaks the silence as Daisy hands him his can, the two of them cracking them open. She lifts hers to her lips and takes down greedy gulps, partially because of the heat but mainly because of Harry.
"Oh, right on," Daisy replies, shifting her stance from foot to foot. "I think I'm gonna try to hit that ABBA show next month in downtown SF."
Harry wrinkles his nose at her response as he sits on the edge of the bed, wordlessly encouraging Daisy to do the same. She does, albeit hesitantly, and with enough distance between them.
"That's a mighty drive for some disco," he teases, though there's a hint of seriousness to his commentary, "You going with someone decent?"
Daisy shrugs, "Willow was into it but she probably can't take off from work. I might ask that guy Warren I work with, he said he'd be down if he could get some good sales out of it."
Harry raises his eyebrows and quickly shakes his head between sips. "No way Jose, you're not making an eight hour drive to SF with a coke dealer."
Harry wasn't hugely into discos, but he was a frequent flyer when it came to tagging along with Willow and Daisy to ensure they were safe. As far as he knew, Daisy didn't dabble in coke all too much, even if it ran rampant in the nightclubs they attended.
"But if I don't go who knows when I'll be able to see them again—"
"I'll go with you," Harry blurts out before he can fathom the thought of a 16-hour drive, round trip, for a bubblegum group he doesn't even like. "Fuck Warren, he's good for nothing but drugs."
"Harry, you hate ABBA," Daisy rolls her eyes. "I'll be fine, really."
"Who says I hate ABBA?"
"You literally yell at us to turn it off every time we put Arrival on."
Harry shrugs his shoulders and leans back against the neat array of pillows, tucking his arms behind his head. "It's me or it's a no-go, disco queen."
She sighs and shakes her head before leaning back on her elbows, her palm pressed tightly against the condensation of the can. "Please, there's no way you would want to sit in a car with me for that long."
"Where'd you get that idea from?" Harry asks with furrowed eyebrows, pressing his lips into a thin line. Daisy's quiet for a moment, churning a reply in her head that doesn't offend him or make her sound dumb.
"You just... I'm your sister's friend, you know? I know you probably don't dig me too much, and that's fine, but you don't have to go out of your way for me just because I don't have anyone else to go with."
"What makes you think I don't dig you?" Harry pushes, making Daisy sigh.
"It's nothing, forget it," she mumbles, finishing off her beer, "Thanks for this, the album's righteous, I'll pick it up at my next shift."
Harry's scrambling to stop her as she walks out to the living room and shuffling her shoes on. Dreams sounds from his bedroom, the song he was most excited to show her, and it only drives his actions further, her words echoing and gnawing into his heart.
"Daisy, stop," he tries, grasping out to wrap his fingers around her wrist, "Stop— just, talk to me, will you? C'mon, I— I don't know where you got that from, I think you're really stellar, Dais."
Daisy looks up at him, momentarily glancing down to hand around her wrist before shifting her wide eyes back to his. "You don't have to be like this, I gotta head home anyway—"
"You don't," Harry shakes his head, stepping closer to her, invading her space as she backs against the front door. "You've been jiving here all day, you don't have to go home. Don't lie to me."
Daisy lets out a frustrated sigh at his pushy nature, but not before she's entirely too distracted by his musky scent and the way his palm is pushed against the wall, right next to her head, making his bicep flex just slightly. She watches as his tongue peeks out and he licks over his lips, waiting for her to break. If it had been anyone else in the world, she would've done everything she could to remove herself from the situation, go home, and soak in the bath while she beat herself up about being too awkward, not sociable enough.
But this is Harry. And Daisy can't, even if she desperately wants to, say no to him.
So she huffs and darts her eyes back to his bedroom, making an annoyed gesture with her hands that signaled what she really wanted to say: c'mon then, dipshit, let's go talk.
Harry's smirking as Daisy kicks her shoes back off, a triumphant puff to his chest. When they return, he closes the door just gently enough to where she wouldn't have noticed if she weren't hyper aware of his every action.
"Right, then," Harry says, sitting down across from Daisy on the bed, who now has her legs criss-cross-applesauce. He follows her lead and allows for her a decent distance between them. Daisy feels like she's having an awkward first kiss with someone via spin the bottle, but she quickly bats the thought of kissing Harry away. "Why don't you think I like you?"
"Because," Daisy sighs, reaching up to cover her warm face with her hands, "I'm just Willow's annoying friend, you know? Always in your way and at your place, drinking your beer and listening to your records."
"Where did you even get that idea?" Harry asks with furrowed brows, shaking his head. "I don't think you're annoying, and I don't care that you hang here, with or without Willow. You can drink all my fuckin' beer or listen to my records until they scratch."
Daisy blushes at that. He's never outwardly declared any type of fondness towards her, friendly or not.
"You just... always seem so peeved when you come out with us to the discos and stuff," Daisy admits, shrugging lightly, "I feel like you think you have to babysit me or something."
Harry chuckles with a shake of his head. "You're a trip, you know that?" His question is rhetorical, so she continues sitting there, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Yeah, I wanna make sure you guys are being safe and no, I don't love disco or boogieing down the way you lot do. But I'm never peeved about hanging with you, Dais. I'm sorry if I did something to make you feel that way, but I promise, you're more to me than Willow's friend."
Daisy's eyes finally meet his. Harry notices the faint blush that blossoms over her cheeks, and he can't help the way his lips turn upward in the smallest tick, his heart expanding ever so slightly at the sight.
"That's nice of you," she eventually mumbles out, blinking slowly. He chuckles quietly and shrugs, murmuring out, "yeah, I guess."
Side A of Rumours is long over now; the only noise sounding through the room is the repeated spin of the vinyl, over and over again. Daisy glances over to the record player, her bottom lip dropping open.
"You should— you should stop that," she says, "It'll scratch the record."
Harry smirks. He watches as she cowers slightly and he notes her nervous energy, the way her anxiety radiates off of her in small waves.
"Would you get me a new one if I did?" he asks, his voice dropping to a raspy tone.
Daisy looks back at Harry, her eyes somehow seeming even wider now. "Y-yeah. If you needed it, yeah."
"Yeah?" he teases, "You're good that way, aren't you?"
"H-Harry—" Daisy's lips fold over the syllables of his name, as if she's broken herself from the spell she was under. "I... you don't have to do this. I get it, you don't think I'm annoying but... don't just try to sleep with me 'cause you feel bad for me."
Harry lets out a frustrated sigh as he backs out of her space, pressing his lips into a thin line.
"Why do you think you're some kind of charity case?" he asks with a shake of his head. "I don't feel bad for you, Daisy, and I would never take advantage of you in that way."
"You're just— you're you! And I'm me! And it doesn't make sense that you'd want anything to do with me outside of Willow! You've never acted this way before—"
"Yeah, exactly!" Harry exclaims, cutting off the words falling from Daisy's mouth. "You're my little sister's best friend, and I don't want to fuck things up between you two by doing anything stupid. I've been staying away from you for years because it's easier to do that than hurt you or her or get hurt myself if things didn't work out!"
Daisy's jaw drops open at Harry's admission, her cheeks immediately warming. She wants to cover her blush with her hands, but she can't find it in her to move, let alone tear her gaze away from his. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat as he awaits a response, so when she's at a loss for words, he huffs in frustration and shakes his head, standing from the bed.
"Forget it— just forget I fuckin' said anything," he mutters, rounding the bed to open his bedroom door, his denim bell bottoms swishing with his steps. "Go home if you need to, stick around if you want— just pretend this never happened, alright?"
"I— Harry, stop," Daisy finally musters, shaking her head as she attempts to process, "I'm not... I don't want to forget what you just said. I'm just trying to understand it."
"What else is there to understand?" He bites.
"Am I... am I wrong in assuming that you like me? Is that what you're trying to say?"
Please don't be wrong, please don't be wrong, please don't be wrong—
"Yeah. That's what I'm saying, Daisy."
The world slows just a bit — not just for Daisy, but for Harry, too. He'd never really envisioned a time where he admitted to having feelings for his little sister's best friend, but it seemed that they'd brewed and simmered for so long that they had no choice but to boil over. Daisy was just as surprised, though. She'd spent the past few years assuming that he hated her and looked at her like a naïve nuisance always taking up space.
"Can you say something?" Harry finally grumbles, and Daisy isn't aware of how long it's been since he made his confession.
"I..." her eyebrows are furrowed, confusion apparent on her face as she looks up. "Why me?" This time, he returns the same expression.
"Are you serious?" Harry echoes, "You're... you're beautiful and smart and so sweet to everyone you meet. I've seen you trip-sit more kids in this apartment than I care to count, and you didn't even know 'em all. You have good taste in music, even if it includes ABBA... you're amazing to my sister, and every time we stop into the record store and you're just sitting there, reading your books... Dais, I swear to god, you look like a goddamn angel."
A furious blush flowers over Daisy's neck and face. She'd watched Harry hookup with a constant rotation of people, all of who she felt were more attractive than her. It felt unreal to hear that he thought she was pretty and kind.
"Can I— can I kiss you?" Daisy blurts, raising to her knees, the plushy bedding of Harry's mattress digging into her legs.
"Yes. Please, Dais, kiss me."
She nods and leans forward, slow and hesitant. Their lips brush against one another and Harry reaches up to carefully caress her cheek, gently pulling her closer until finally, they make contact.
It feels as though years of tension are being translated through their kiss. Harry's quick to meld his mouth against hers, moving his lips in a careful pace. She meets him halfway with similar touches; quiet smacks of their lips moving together. With a hand on his thigh, Harry's tongue enters Daisy's mouth and he's licking at her, more eagerly now that he's gotten a taste. Daisy parts from him momentarily, but only to move over his lap and straddle his legs, her heels pressed into her bum as she wraps her arms around his neck to pull him back in for another kiss.
She feels floaty and loses herself in the warm comfort of Harry's mouth, especially when his large hands find the backs of her thighs, sliding up to her ass. She swears she's never felt so good before, until the hardness of Harry's length makes itself known, poking at her core between layers of fabric. It's just enough to rip her out of her dreamy state, and she parts with a small gasp when he involuntarily bucks his hips up, searching for some sort of friction-filled release.
"Fuck— I'm sorry," Harry mutters out through spit-slicked lips. They're a muted cherry hue now, the same color they get when he's had a few too many glasses of red wine, or when he's saying goodbye to his one night stand in the hallway.
"It's okay," Daisy mumbles. She knows it's just human biology, that it's obviously natural for guys to get hard during heated makeout sessions. It's not like she's never felt a dick before, but it's also just that — she's never actually felt a dick before. "Um, I just— can we slow down?"
"Oh, yeah, of course. You just— I'm just like... really excited, I guess, and my body... knows that."
"It's fine, Harry," Daisy peeps out, smiling softly at the blush covering his cheeks, "But, uh... I've never... been with anyone before."
"What do you mean?"
She resists the urge to roll her eyes. She had hoped that he would've caught on, but clearly she was wrong.
"I've never been with anyone."
"But I've seen you makeout with people at the disco and shit."
"Yeah, but I've never taken them home."
It takes a moment for it to click, but when it does, Harry's eyes widen and his mouth forms around an oh. Daisy feels an all-encompassing embarrassment take up her entire form — she'd disclosed this information to people in the past, and they normally scampered off because the responsibility of taking her virginity was simply too much. She understood that, truly, but it got tiring after awhile. And, let's face it — this was Harry, and she really, really didn't want to feel stupid in front of him.
"I'm... I didn't know that."
Daisy shrugs, "It's not exactly like I go around parading it."
"Well, I would hope not."
This time, Daisy does roll her eyes, and Harry smirks as she gently pushes at his shoulder. The awkwardness melts just slightly and Daisy's body relaxes.
"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to— I get that it can be a big deal for some chicks," Harry says, moving his palm to gently squeeze her hip, "But I do really like you, Daisy. And this doesn't change that."
Her heart swells in her chest and warmth envelops her belly. He has a dopey, lovesick smile on his lips — the same one he gets when he, Daisy, and Willow share a joint at the end of a night out, she notices — and she knows her face looks just as silly, if not more so.
"I like you too," she murmurs, reaching out to run her fingertips along the length of his jaw. She traces over his slightly scruffy beard, which she knows is a day or two overgrown. She trails up to the mustache covering his upper lip, the one Willow always complains about and says makes him look like a homeless hippie, but Daisy secretly adores. She ends at his lips, gently pulling at his bottom one to form a puppy's pout. Playfully, he nips at her fingertip and she giggles.
She doesn't retract her finger and instead presses her thumb between his swollen lips. He allows her to it, readily and openly, the digit laying flat against his tongue before he wraps his lips around it, sucking down softly.
"Oh," she breathes, feeling his tongue lazily swirl around her thickest finger. Daisy's core flutters at the image; the way his cheeks are hallowed out ever so slightly, a perfect picture of submission beneath her.
"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," Harry whispers. She doesn't know how long she's been in his bed on top of his lap, but she assumes it's been awhile with the way golden hour is soaking every inch of his bedroom. She's slow in her movements, with the way she removes her finger from his mouth and, instead of climbing off like he'd expected her to, trails her hand below her crocheted top, brushing her spit-covered thumb over her nipple.
"Oh, fuck."
Daisy's head lulls to the side as she plays with herself, her nipple slowly hardening between her fingertips. Harry can barely see anything through the white crocheted vest, just peaks of flesh and the warm-toned hues of her nipples, and his jaw has still managed to go slack as he watches her with parted lips. She's a real life wet dream, he's sure of it.
"Dais..." Harry sighs as she lifts her hand to her mouth, wetting her fingers only to travel back down to give her other nipple the same treatment, "Lemme see? Please, baby, I'm desperate."
Daisy hums at his admission. It's hard to ignore the electricity that zips through her belly at the word baby, but she tries to keep her cool, even if she has no idea what she's doing. Slowly, she lifts her arms and ditches her torso of the netted material, allowing the breeze coming from the fan to only harden her nipples even further.
"Can I touch?" He asks, his eyes flickering up to hers for consent, "You can dictate the pace, lemme know what you're comfortable with but— 'm gonna die if I can't touch your pretty tits, Dais."
Daisy nods, her words stuck in her throat from Harry's boldness. He's quick to duck beneath her form as a surprised yelp tumbles from her lips, but it's quickly replaced with a whimper as he attaches his mouth to her nipple. He's sucking and licking, going back and forth between each one, his large hands gripping harshly at her hips. She's struggling to keep still but it's especially difficult when he nips at the sensitive buds, his teeth supplying the most delicious and quick licks of pain.
"Harry, I—"
His head snaps at up the second his name leaves her throat, immediately removing his lulling tongue from the patches of skin he'd been obsessing over.
"What's wrong?" Harry asks, panicked. She shakes her head and breathes out tensely as she pathetically tries to roll her hips against his; an attempt to showcase her communication better, but he's reluctant in accepting it.
"Words, bub," he instructs, reaching up to cradle her jaw in his palm, "Are you okay?"
"Good," Daisy bobs her head, "Feels good. I— more, please?"
Her words are a jumbled mess as they float from her brain to her mouth. She knows she must sound borderline high but Harry doesn't tease, instead sliding his hand down to the waistband of her denim shorts, his palm flush against her tummy.
"What do you want?"
She swallows. She's hooked up with people before, gotten fingered and given a few blowies, but she's never been asked to verbalize her needs. It makes her flush with embarrassment as her jaw opens and closes dumbly, unsure of what she's even requesting of Harry.
"I don't know," she finally breathes, hitching her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm sorry. No one's ever asked me what I want before, I don't have as much experience as you—"
"Shush," Harry's quick to shut her up with a shake of his head. "I don't want you to feel bad about that. I just want to make sure I'm not pushing you too far. You get to decide, this is your body."
Daisy leans into Harry's grasp, pressing her cheek against his hand.
"Here, why don't you tell me where I can touch you?" he suggests, moving his other palm back up to her breasts, "Are you still alright here?"
She nods, gasping as he pinches her nipple between his fingers. His hands travel down to the swell of her ass, cupping her cheeks firmly.
"And what about here?"
"Mhm." her eyes flutter when he squeezes, a moan bubbling in her throat.
He keeps one hand on her bum as he uses the other to trail featherlight touches along the inside of her thigh, up to her core. She can feel her hole squeezing around nothing, a steady thumping buzzing through her clit, and she whimpers when he cups her pussy through her shorts.
"Is this okay, baby?"
Daisy nods, her breath quickening at the sensation. "You— you can take them off," she says in a moment of courage, "Want you to touch me there."
"Ah," Harry smirks as he unbuttons the denim, dragging the zipper down. "You want me to touch your little pussy, is that it?"
She whines as he budges her up just far enough to shimmy the material down her legs. She's not wearing the sexiest of underwear — just a plain cotton pair in a light blue — but Harry still licks his lips at the sight of the damp patch flowering over her hole, where he's desperate to feel.
"Has anyone ever touched you down here?"
"Yes," she mumbles, bucking her hips against his hand. His thumb is drawing light circles into her clit, not enough to satiate her need for him, instead providing a semblance of sensation.
"Do you ever do it?" he questions, moving his finger down to her hole. She's clenching with need as he gently pushes a finger in through the fabric. He's not fingering her, not even close; just making her whimper with need at the thought of what she could have if she answers him.
"Sometimes, yes," Daisy nods.
"What do you do?"
"I, um," she licks over her swollen lips, attempting to focus on his question as he dips in again. "I rub my clit... sometimes I put a finger in."
"Is that all it takes to make you cum?" his tone is teasing now, making her feel embarrassed.
"Usually."
"Usually?" he raises a brow, "What else do you do to make this pretty pussy cum?"
Daisy swallows loudly. "Sometimes... if I'm really turned on, I'll touch myself... lower."
"Lower?" Harry repeats, unsure if he's understanding her correctly. "Like...?"
"Yeah."
A devilish smirks takes over his face as he moves one of his hands to cup her ass again, this time squeezing even tighter.
"Is that why you moan so loud when I grab you here?"
She nods, ducking her head back in pleasure. Just the feeling of being slightly stimulated in both places is nearly enough to get here there, not to mention it's Harry doing the touching.
"And who taught you that?" he asks as he pushes the material of her underwear down her thighs.
"Um, a guy I hooked up with once," Daisy murmurs, sitting up slightly. She's naked now, still on top of him, while he remains in his work clothes from earlier today. Her pussy is bare to his wandering eye and he can't help the way he takes in her most intimate parts.
"And you liked it when he toyed with your cute bum?" Harry continues his relentless teasing much to Daisy's dismay, who is all but squirming with need. He relieves some of the consuming pressure in her stomach by taking his fingers between her pussy lips, spreading them to expose her clit. He lightly runs his fingertip over the sensitive nub and she shivers, nodding her head.
"He just... licked me there while he was going down on me," Daisy explains with fluttered eyes, "And the next time I played with myself I put a finger in... made me feel dirty but so good."
"Jesus, you really are a dirty little girl, hm?"
Apparently, Harry feels that she's answered enough of his questions and deserves a reward. She lets out a hearty moan when he applies more pressure to her clit, starting in tight, small circles. She's glistening for him and making a mess between her thighs, making Harry's mouth water just at the sight.
"You're a drippy mess," he mutters as he squeezes her bum. He lowers his hand downward to where she's aching the most, circling twice and dipping in to spread her wetness around. He uses his other hand to continue rubbing at her pearly clit as he pushes his finger in, his jaw dropping at the sight of Daisy arching her back and whimpering on top of him. "Fuckin' gorgeous girl."
Harry starts off at a tantalizing pace but when he sees how responsive she is to every little touch — well, he's only human, and he can't help but want to get her to her breaking point as quickly as possible. He's not sure if anyone she's hooked up with has ever cared to make her cum before, but with the way she's grinding down against his hand and palming at her own breasts, he thinks anyone that had a chance to see her like this and didn't is an absolute fool.
"Are you gonna cum for me, sweetheart?" Harry asks. He can feel her tightening around the finger that's currently deep inside of her, poking and prodding at that special spot with each thrust. She's so wet that he's positive there's a wet spot on his work pants but he couldn't care less.
"Y-yes," Daisy nods helplessly, bouncing up and down as he pushes a second finger into her opening. It's a slight stretch, but nothing she can't take, that much is clear.
"Such a good girl, Daisy," he mutters mainly to himself, "Can't believe I went this long without feeling you squeeze my fingers like this... be my good girl and cum for me, baby, let me see you."
The squelching sound of his fingers rapidly moving against her are a telltale sign that she's at her end, but it's the slight gush around his hand and her throaty moans that stick with him. He watches in awe as she squirts on his fingers, helping her through her orgasm, her muscles contracting quickly.
"Fuck," Harry utters, "You're absolutely filthy. Been hiding this from me for years, hm?"
Daisy's eyes have long since fluttered closed as she comes down from her peak, so Harry does the only thing he can think of. Gently removing his fingers from her, he hooks an arm around her to keep her steady before lifting his hand to his mouth and finally having a taste of her arousal.
"Harry," Daisy breathes when she sees him, her eyes slightly widened at the visual beneath her.
"You taste incredible, Dais."
Without thinking, she leans forward and messily melds their lips together, her tongue prodding into his mouth. He welcomes it and groans at her eagerness. They part a minute or so later, both with spit swollen lips.
"I think I'm addicted to you, Daisy Walker."
Part two | Part three | Series masterlist
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meaningtotellyou · 1 year
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i’m actually getting really heated over the responses to harry saying “this doesn’t happen to people like me” over winning his album of the year grammy. because it wasn’t racist or anti-black of him to say. and it’s a weird way to spin it in the first place. it’s something he says it to his crowds every single night of tour. sometimes with tears in his eyes. and he’s right. he was a random little teenage boy just plucked from his home and put into what would become the biggest selling boy band of all time. and now he’s a solo artist winning his first album of the year. so no this doesn’t happen to people like him because he sees himself as just that normal guy who happened to make it big. there was no malicious intent or secret double racist meaning in that statement at all. y’all are just deeply miserable
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whoreforlarrystuff · 9 months
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hazzashouse · 9 months
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I belong with you
summary: you fell asleep when watching a movie with Harry
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Harry yawned as he was trying to reach his phone. Struggling to do so, he looked down only to see you sleeping right on his lap. “Love?” He whispered softly, leaning down to kiss your head, but you didn’t move.
You’d waited for Harry to come home from his songwriting session when you decided to have a movie night tonight. Quickly you went to the nearby store to get some snacks both of you could enjoy when drinking wine.
It took Harry an extra hour to get back to you so no wonder that you were now sound asleep. He didn’t wake you, instead he gently brushed your hair away from your face.
He could probably stay like this forever, holding you so close. Sometimes he would still wonder why you’d chosen him, when in reality you could be with anyone. You could see it in his eyes, they way he looks at you every day, with so much love and affection, like he really can’t believe that you’re real. But you could say the same about him. Seeing all the girls he has dated in the past you couldn’t help but be a little insecure, doubts flooding your mind especially at the beginning of your relationship.
“Hey, look at me, you’re perfect. You’re perfect to me and I would never ever want to be with anyone else. I belong with you, period,” he told you one night after you’d decided to share your insecurities with him. And Harry, being the perfect boyfriend, made them all go away, just like that.
Now, even when you weren’t looking, Harry’s eyes were still fixed on you, and only you. He let you sleep, having your head rested on his lap, enjoying every second of being able to appreciate your beauty.
like and reblog if you liked it and follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.
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meetmymouth · 9 months
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Harry follows one of his friends outside as they’re looking for an appropriate place to smoke, one hand holding his glass of whiskey as the other finds comfort in one of his pockets. It’s hot in the marquee, so the sweet July breeze outside is more than welcome on his face.
So far, he’s taken a few photos with people he’s never seen in his life, and Harry hopes that the bride and the groom aren’t bothered.
He should be able to say no.
He really should.
Though, surrounded by friends and family, Harry feels like it’d be too much to say no to someone who obviously admires him and his music— admires him enough to want a photo with him.
His friend says something, and he laughs because he does, and he takes a sip from his drink, watching the flame from the lighter lick the end of his friend’s cigarette.
He’s enjoying the peaceful atmosphere of the countryside when he sees a shadow, and feels another presence behind them.
He turns around, somehow nervous and on edge, and notices her pink dress before her beautiful face.
She is beautiful, but he lets out a tiny sigh, and says, “Sorry, would it be okay if we didn’t take a photo?”
All three of them stop— his friend lets out a breath, and the woman’s perfectly shaped eyebrows raise in question— somehow offended at his request.
There’s another moment of silence before she takes a step back, and Harry notices she’s also holding a cigarette.
“Uh,” she lets out a laugh, like she knows something he doesn’t. “I wasn’t going to ask for a photo. Your trousers…”she looks down at his outfit even though she’s next to him, therefore can’t really see the back of his trousers. “They’re ripped.”
“What?”
And, what?
“Your trousers, below the jacket. Ripped.“
Harry hears his friend laugh, and he also feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment. His whole body feels numb, though he can feel the ringing in his ears.
“Shit—” he murmurs, hand going to his back. He feels himself until his hand touches the ripped area. “God, I’m…really sorry.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, you should be.”
“I don’t normally— I’m not bothered normally, it’s just— it’s not my wedding and I kind of feel bad enough that people have been… you know?” He cannot help his rambling, words rolling off his tongue, though he doesn’t know if he’s making sense or not.
She looks like she’s bored. He guesses.
Though, he notices her checking him out, only a mere second before her eyes find his again.
“I get that. I guess.”
“I’m sorry. Again.”
“All good. I thought you might want to know, yeah?”
He turns to his friend, and notices him on his phone.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” He hisses.
He hears her laugh.
He doesn’t even listen to the man next to him list all the excuses why he hasn’t said anything, only hears the laugh she lets out.
He finds her gaze, and she bites her bottom lip.
“I guess,” she says, tone a tad softer than when she first came up to him. “I was one of the few who were looking…there.”
And well.
Harry’s always loved weddings.
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larriescompass · 4 months
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i smell homosexuality
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twopoppies · 3 months
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https://twitter.com/RollingStone/status/1743293778109337778?t=WrHkMxQUy_TIL6Et7QbxFg&s=19. As it should
Love that
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We Could Be The Greatest Team.
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(Y/N) JENNER, best known for being on the reality tv show ‘keeping up with the kardashians.’ She’s also known to be the gorgeous fiancé of pop sensation, the one and only Mr. Harry Styles.
With her growing up with five sisters, that made her a very family oriented person, and Harry likes to think that trait is what got him to initially ask her to be his in the first place.
There first proper date took place in 2013, the two of them being only nineteen at the time, they didn’t want everyone getting involved in there relationship because it was there private life, that was until they chose to go to her older sister, Kim’s wedding where the two were pictured together, very very, close.
2017 was a very big year for the two of them. The year they got engaged to each other. Harry got down on one knee in his Italian villa, there first proper house together that they brought, because in his eyes he knew they would spend forever together.
(Y/N) has been there through it all, so there was no doubt he wanted her to be his wife. On the tours, when One Direction went on there hiatus, when his solo album was released and when he won his Grammy’s she was there to hold his hand and would always be able to ground him if he was having a slightly bad day. Never wanting to go to bed without saying those three simple words.
There wedding was supposed to be in the summer of 2020, but so many obstacles got in there way, COVID, stress from cancelled tours and well a baby. A bouncing baby boy who came screaming into the world in September, 2021.
Sonny Harry Robin Styles.
There journey was a love story like no other, and nothing could ever break them apart. They were a team, two peas in a pod, the yin to her yang, the bestest of friends.
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authors note: this isn’t really a series per say, in my opinion it’s more a trope then anything else. when inspiration strikes or i get a certain request, they will get published and tagged here for you all to see:)
if a tag list is something you would like me to set up, let me know <3
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real life:
instagram concepts:
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A Dark Love
Summary: Two murders on the run in the 70’s fall in love.
Warnings: enemies to lovers, murder, death obvi, gore, smut, knife kink, blood kink, mentions of cannibalism, lots of angst,just a warning this is kind of heavy! So if you don’t feel comfy don’t read ❤️‍🔥
Wc:3.8k
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Y/n is sure that man is watching her every move. Either that, or it’s her paranoia building up after being on the run for ten days. 
Ten whole days without a single cop glancing her way, after murdering two men at a bar she thought they would at least have a lead on her, but nothing. Nothing for a whole year. Since the news broke of several different men carelessly slashing women, Y/n has decided if men can kill women for no good reason, she can kill men for no reason. It’s better to have no men on the planet than only a few good ones. 
Her first was Tommy. Thirty two, blue eyes, brown hair, two hundred and three pounds, born January fourth nineteen forty two. He lives alone in a two bedroom apartment, his room filled with porno mags and disgusting memorabilia of past girls he obsessed over until his last moment. 
Y/n met him behind a bar just ten hours after the news about Lynda Ann Healy broke. Y/n was so disgusted and horrified that she fell into a spell once he tried pulling her back into his busted Red Ford pinto that she killed him right then and there, pulling the sharp buckle from her belt and stabbing him, walking all the way back home will bright crimson blood dripping from her face.
That night she discovered her new love. She had always adored taking care of herself, taking it slow and appreciating the simple things in life, like a hot bath or a new rose scented face cream- but nothing made her feel quite better than seeing her plump young skin masked in a coat of blood. She felt like she was reborn, branded into a new woman with a new fresh hungry need to kill. 
Since that night she’s been slashing into any man she can, the more bloody the better for her, bathing in the thick blood like it is a luxurious skin cream.  Now she’s up to fifteen bodies. 
“Have a problem?” Y/n calls over, feeling the cool metal of her dagger press into the plump skin of her thigh to make sure it was still right where she wanted it. There was nothing she loved more than leading a man down onto his knees for his last sight to be her uncovering her sharp blade. 
The man is handsome, standing tall with a slim but sturdy build, Tattoos, silky hair piled on top of his head- he obviously hasn’t gotten a haircut in a few months, big green eyes, a mustache dusted above his lip, dressed in some button up shirt with all too tight pants.
 She can have a little fun with him before she kills him. 
“Not at all, sweet thing.” He shoots her a wink before lighting a joint, taking a drag from it then passing it off to her. She pushes it back toward him but takes her place leaning next to him against his shiny blue car. “No thanks.” He lets out a tiny laugh, pulling it back to his mouth instead. “Your loss.” He breathes out, smoke falling from his mouth. 
“I don’t smoke strangers' pot.” Y/n says, glancing up at the man. He smiles, “Then let me introduce myself. I’m Harry. Now we know each other, babe.” She rolls her eyes, stepping back. “I can already tell you’re an asshole.” He tosses his arms out, “c’mon, I don’t bite.” A large smile spreads on his lips, but she ignores it and walks back to the car.
Y/n isn’t quite sure why the man’s stupid words bothered her so much, but she had a feeling about him and something was off. She walks a few feet back to her car before getting inside and starting it up. Shoving the key in and twisting it she realizes the old car finally bit the dust, merely taunting her with a cough but no roar to start. 
Her head turns at the noise, seeing Harry roll up next to her. “Looks like you need a ride.” She rolls her eyes, grabbing her couple of bags and stuffing them in his car before flopping into his passenger seat. The car was stolen so she wouldn’t miss it. 
What’s the worst that could happen? If he tried something she would just plunge her dagger straight into his heart… but she would lose her cool if her favorite corduroy skirt happened to get blood splatter on it. 
“Where are you going?” He asks, glancing over her tight and reserved body language. “Anywhere.” The 
“Seriously, where are you going? I thought we were over that stranger danger shit.” Y/ns rolls her eyes at the man, picking at her manicured nails to avoid his gaze. “I’m just going.” it's his turn to roll his eyes, scoffing at her. “Seriously,”
“Get off my case, asshole. You need to take a chill pill.” 
“I need to chill?! You need to stop being so fucking up tight!” The second he raises his voice at her she spreads her legs and pulls her dagger from the inside of her thigh, gripping it tight in her hand while he throws his up in surrender.``Hey, Hey, Hey” he rushes out, getting her to back off. “Either fuck off or ill slit your throat. It’s up to you Harry.” She says with a sweet smile, her heart racing from the adrenaline pumping through her veins and the excitement of possibly getting a small taste of the pretty boy's blood. 
“Jesus, sorry.” She gives a tiny nod at his apology and backs down, but not before he starts chuckling. “But you wouldnt of stabbed me.'' He raises her hand again, carelessly aiming to just teach him a lesson instead of actually killing him. 
“Fuck!” He shouts, blood pouring from his hand. “Dont get it on my fucking skirt!” she shouts back, groaning at a little drop of blood soaking into her skirt. Harry quickly pulls the silky wrap she had tied around her hair and wraps it around his hand to stop the bleeding. 
After their panic settled they both let out a shaky breath before Harry pulled her in, grabbing her knife and pressing his lips to hers. “That was so fucking hot but if you ever do that again I will kill you.” 
The car is stopped in the middle of the road but that doesn’t stop them from tearing off each other's clothes. She yanks Harry’s button up shirt open while he peels her panties down her legs. She takes her turn and unbuckles his belt, shoving her hand down his pants and pulling his cock out. 
Hushed words are exchanged as she slides his big cock deep inside of her pussy, licking the fresh blood that drips down his wrists as he thrusts in and out of her from under her. 
Harry holds her dagger against her neck, the sharp blade scraping against her delicate skin. She lets out a moan, her mouth and chin covered in his blood. He kisses her, his tongue slipping inside of her mouth to taste her. 
 “I can’t believe you stabbed me.” He laughs on her lips, softly dragging the knife down her throat before pressing it between her breasts. He kisses her one last time before pulling away breathlessly, “if you ever try that again, I promise, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” He presses the tip of the dagger into her chest enough to draw a bit of blood then pulls it away. 
To be clear, Harry has never killed a woman. Really just killing random men, slitting their throats or strangling them when he notices they are following a young girl home, or slipping a pill in someone’s drink, only for good reason. He’s not a psychopath, he’s only murdered 12 people!
“I’m cumming, fuck.” Y/n cums, letting out a moan and pulling herself away from the man.
After they dress themselves, Harry returns to driving, stepping on the gas and riding down the old country road. It was an absolute ghost town, corn fields, boarded up farm houses, and abandoned shops are the only things left in the old town. Y/n loved this. This was the kind of place she could stay in forever, a town where there are little people and no one cares to get to know the tiny population. 
She might consider settling down here, there’s only a gas station and a tiny grocery store, but even those are smaller than the average small town shops. This looked like a lowkey spot to hide out in, or maybe it is something straight out of a horror film- but so is she. 
“Pull over” Y/n finally speaks up after about twenty minutes of driving in silence. There was a tiny yellow motel, paint chipping and graffiti covered all along the exterior. “What?” Y/n rolls her eyes at his questioning she grabs the wheel from him and drives through the grass and into the parking lot of the rundown motel.  “What the fuck?!” Harry yells, quickly putting the car in park. Y/n jumps out before she can hear any of his bitching and walks through the motel and into a check out counter. 
Behind the counter there is a man, a short but sturdy build man with clown makeup on. Any normal person passing through this town and stopping at the motel for a safe place to lay their head for a night would be startled to see such a man behind the counter but this comforted Y/n. If the tall man was anything like her, she knew there wasn’t a chance the cops could bust her here. 
“Howdy… Gus. I’m going to need a room for tonight.” She glances at the big wooden sign that reads “HOWDY” with a large cowboy hat burned into it. She isn’t sure where she is, but wherever she was she knew it was just a bunch of homicidal fucked up hicks. 
“Single bed or two beds?” The man grumbles, a low deep voice coming out of such a short man. “Single bed.” Harry comes behind her, scoffing. “I’m going to need a room too.” 
“Bad news, there’s only one room.” 
“How many beds?” Y/n shoots up, hoping she doesn’t have to deal with this man for god knows how long. Yeah, he was just inside of her thirty minutes ago, but that doesn’t mean she wants anything to do with him. 
“Only one.” Fucking classic. 
“Well you can just keep on steppin’.” Harry shakes his head at her words. “No way, not after you drug me with this hell hole.” Y/n pulls a tight lipped smile, shoving her hand into her pocket aggressively and pulling out some bills and change to slam on the counter before snatching the key from Gus’ hand and stomping off. 
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
The door flies open while Y/n storms into it, almost hitting Harry with the heavy wooden door. When she takes a quick look-see around the room she is instantly disgusted with the orange shag carpet, the stiff avocado green bedspread and the brightly cartoonish art bolted to the wall. “Well isn’t this just fucking nifty.” She lets out a huff then throws herself back on the bed. 
“You act like I’m not bummed out about this too! But we both need a place to crash and it might as well be with each other since we’re in the same boat. So, if you could stop your whining I’m going to clean up my hand.” 
She looks away, rolling her eyes. “I won’t hesitate to whip out my blade on you again.” He tossed a hand out to her before locking himself in the bathroom. 
Y/n takes this time to unpack her bags, which is really just unzipping them and then tossing them onto the floor. 
She’s not sure why she was drawn to this place, but she had a good feeling about it. Sometimes she regrets hurting all those men, having to live such a quiet life, always being on the move and never stable. But she’s hoping soon enough the investigation will be closed. They have been working to figure out who is behind this string of murders for far too long and she knows if she just sticks it out a little while longer they will give up. She’s sad for the families grieving, but not sad that there is a couple less useless fucks in this already shitty world. 
Hopefully she and Harry will get along. They got off to a rough start, and are still in a rough stop, but she thinks with a little work they could be partners in crime- no that she’s planning on killing any men while she’s in hiding, but if need be. 
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
“Where did you run off to?” 
Y/n  pushes open the motel door, kicking it shut with her heel and pulling her glass bottle of big red up to her lips for a swig. She dumps the big paper bag onto the entertainment center of the motel room, tossing a bag of chips at the man, then pulling her carton of cigs out and lighting one up. “Convenience store.” She mumbles through her exhale of smoke, flopping back on the squeaky bed where Harry sits up straight. 
“If we’re going to be staying together we need to learn a little bit more about each other.” Y/n rolls her eyes, taking another drag off of her Marlboro. “Why are you suddenly Mister moral? Don’t you like…kill people?” Harry rolls his eyes, he’s grown increasingly agitated with her and if she wasn't such a pretty girl maybe he would kill her. 
“Yeah, bad people. But that’s irrelevant. I hardly know you.” 
“That didn’t stop you from fucking me in your car twenty minutes after we met, even after I stabbed you.” Harry stands up, shaking his head, leaning back and growing out of frustration. “You’ve got a smart fucking mouth.” She gives him a breathy chuckle. “Yeah?” She slowly rises to her feet, ashing her cigarette on the shag carpet and taking another drag from it. “What are you going to do about it?” He takes that as a challenge, grabbing her jaw with his bandaged band, four fingers on one side and his thumb on the other. 
They lock eye contact for a couple of beats before Harry pushes his lips onto her, pushing her down onto the bed and unbuckling his belt. It was already three in the morning, and they both know people are sleeping but no one staying in this hell hole is resting well. She slides down the silky sleep shorts she had slid on along with a tattered graphic tee before heading off to the store. Y/n keeps her eyes on his hands as he pulls his belt off and pushes his trousers down. 
Hushed words are exchanged and before either of them know it Harry is deep inside of her, lifting one leg to get deeper. 
Y/n smiles blissfully, reaching for her dagger she had tossed on the bed and sliding it against his hip bone, making sure not to nick his sensitive skin with her piercing sharp knife. Harry grabs it from her hand, trailing it up her hot body and slowly makes his way up to her neck. He traces the blade around her ear, taking his time before he slides it against the side of her neck, making sure to be soft with her. She annoys the fuck out of him, she has a smart mouth and was too reserved for someone so mouthy, but he cant help but kind of adore her. 
He quickly pulls out of her, cumming all over her pussy. “Oh fuck” she whispers, flopping her head back and relaxing into the bed. 
Harry pushes her shirt up, kissing over her bare chest and trailing it down her stomach. She feels a fluttery feeling in her belly. Similar to how she feels after she comes home prior to slashing into a man, blood spraying all over her face. She gets to stand under the warm spray of her shower, watching the water go from crimson to clear and drain down, giving her skin a good scrub before sitting bare in front of her vanity and pampering herself with rich creams. She feels like she's being taken care of, such a light delicate feeling. 
 He sinks to his knees, spreading her legs wide and burying his face between them. 
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
“Rise ‘n shine.” Harry sings, shaking Y/n awake. 
Y/n blinks her eyes open, groaning and getting in a good stretch so she's not so stiff. “What's on your face?” Harry's hand comes up to wipe at his face, examining the splatter he wipes off. “Oh, i'm not sure.” he walks into the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up before stepping back into her vision. 
“I've been thinking a lot this morning.” 
“It’s seven in the morning, how much thinking can you do?” Harry shrugs at her questions, pushing his frankly, fabulous hair back and starting to gather his things together to pack in his hefty leather bag. “Like I was saying, I’ve kind of been thinking… let's leave. Let’s go find some other place to stay.” 
Y/n whips her head back to him whilst she strips naked and starts the water in the pink tiled bathroom. “What the fuck are you talking about? I thought we decided that this was the perfect place to hide out! It’s a fucking ghost town here.” 
Harry rocks back and forth then turns on his heel to start pacing back and forth in front of the messy bed from Y/n tossing and turning all night. “Not to get all weird but I can't talk to you when you're bare naked. it's tripping me out.” She scoffs, “Prude.” then steps into the shower. 
“If you dont mind, make this shower lickety split. I'm itching to get out of this place!” Y/n groans at his nagging, quickly rinsing the shampoo out of her hair and squirting a rather large pile of cream white conditioner into her palm and working it into her hair. “Why are you so impatient? Why cant you take a fucking chill pill.”
“This place is just creeping me out, man. I gotta get out of here.” She groans again, feeling the irritation bubble up and begin to boil over. “We agreed that this is the perfect spot to stay. I'm already settled in. Why leave now?” 
“Enough with all the questions, please.” 
“Why?!” 
“Cause I fucking killed Gus! Okay?! Now please, can you speed this the fuck up so we can get into my goddamn car so we can find some other place to stay?!” Y/n calming but quickly rinses her body off and steps out of the shower, drying herself off much too quickly, basically still dripping wet and she throws the towel into a tiny laundry basket. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Harry throws both of his hands out.
 “Again! Jesus christ can you just put something on?” 
“Oh my god!” She throws a shirt at him, sliding panties up her legs and quickly getting dressed, deciding to go simple with a pair of yellow corduroy flares and a black rolling stones tee shirt tucked into it. “I guess lets fucking go since you decided to murder someone.” She grabs her back and Harry trails right behind her, walking down the long dark hallway. “We're literally on the run to try to get out of murder charges and you decided to kill the dude behind the check-in counter. What the fuck was that for?” Harry grumbles, obviously growing more and more agitated by her never ending questions and attitude. “I dont want to talk about it.” 
They hop in the car, and take off once again. 
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
They've been driving for a while. 
If Y/n is honest, She’s kind of bummed that they had to leave that motel. At first she was just worried that they would catch wind of another murder and have her and Harry’s name tied to it, but thankfully their records are clean and Gus never took record of their stay. But now, she just misses it. It was a little spooky and there were other sketchy weirdos staying there but that comforted her more than anything. 
Y/n thinks she's feeling a touch homesick, after moving into her previous apartment she finally had a place of her own to call home with no roommate, it was all to herself. Having no sense of stability, only being on the road was kind of messing with her, but as much as she doesnt want to admit it to herself- and especially to him, having Harry as a partner in crime has been really great. 
“So, do you think youll ever go back to wherever you ran from?” Y/n shakes her head, her feet hung out of the window and a cigarette perched between her two fingers. “Nope. kind of starting fresh. Finding a whole new job and shit, a new place to stay. Maybe I’ll be an avon lady.” They both laugh at her joke. “Me too. Now that I've left there's no way I'm going back.” 
“Can I ask you a question and get an honest answer this time?” Harry quickly glances at Y/n, “Sure.” There is a beat of silence before she speaks again. “Why did you kill Gus? I can tell it wasn’t just because he pissed you off. We stayed up talking all last night and you dont kill unless you've got a good reason.” 
“So you want the honest answer?” 
“Yeah” 
“It was because of you.” 
“Me?!” Y/n shouts, she hardly spoke a word to Gus. 
“Yeah, he was telling me how hot he thought you were and for some reason I just kind of… lashed out.” 
Y/n takes a moment to process it, ashing her cigarette and taking one last drag on it before putting it out in the car's ashtray. She clears her throat, “So what, do you think i'm your girlfriend or something now?” 
“Well, if you want. I'm not uptight about shit like that or anything. We can just vibe it out.” Y/n softly laughs. “Okay, lover boy.” 
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Y/n and Harry finally found a place to stay. Thankfully, Harry and Y/n both had good money saved up prior to them being on the run so they splurged at a nice hotel and decided to stay in the suite. 
This time, Y/n didn't throw a fit when she had to stay in the same room and same bed as Harry. She lets him be a gentleman and he carries her bag up to their room. This time, its going to be different. This time they are going to stay put,find a spot for them to settle down together- not just in a hotel room. Maybe they will put their lives of crime behind them and stick together as one happy couple. 
Maybe. 
Hiiiii!!!! If you liked this PLEASE reblog!! I’ll love you forever and I doubt a lot of people are going to read this due to sensitive subject matter but hoping this will hit my target audience 😭 im really scared that this got boring towards the middle but it was inspired by house of 1000 corpses! hope you liked it !
Tag list: @harrysddtittys @hopeyoustaythenight @harrysdimple05 @damnasstyles @harrysfolklore @msolbesg @thismaydestroyme @stallrry @ayeshathestyles @michellekstyles @lhharrylilpumpkin @kissmyaxe140 @buckymydarlingangel @cherrycolas-things @luvonstyles @victoria-styles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite
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Day 9 of Kinkmas: Hotel Sex With Harry Styles
Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!reader
Warning: eating out, protected sex, hickeys
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Y/N’s POV
All I see is flashing by cameras, all I hear is screaming by fans, and I feel someone holding my hand and taking me to a hotel. When I got in the hotel doors and try to get my vision back to normal to see Harry still holding my hand. I look back to see the fans screaming their heads off just because of us.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
“Yeah I am, I’ve never seen that amount of flashing before including almost my ear drums getting destroyed because of the screaming.” I say looking at the crowd again.
“I deal with that every day.” He says.
I hug him, I feel so safe around him everywhere we go.
We get to the elevators and get into one and Harry presses our floor number. He holds me close and I wrap my arms around his body. Once again, I feel safe around him.
We get to our hotel room and then we get into the room and we begin to make out. We start to take our clothes off and we try to walk but still kissing each other. When we got to the bed, Harry and I fell on the bed together and Harry starts to kiss my body, I gasp and try to make myself comfortable on the bed, he starts to give me pecks, when he got to my face he licks the valley of my breasts. I fluff his hair until he goes back down to my inner thighs and then begins to eat me out.
After a while, we’re a moaning mess, him kissing my neck, me tugging on his hair, and him touching my waist. He grabs a condom, puts it on his dick and begins to make love to me, I moan in pleasure, I arch my back, I feel Harry’s arms holding me up so he can kiss my upper body while having sex with me.
I feel myself cumming on his dick which made me gasp, I can feel him groaning on my shoulder when he feels himself cumming as well. When we were done we Harry lays on me and I can feel him heavy breathing, I kiss his head and lay my head down on the pillow.
“That felt so nice Harry.” I say softly.
“We haven’t done this in a while Y/N/N.” He says still in his position.
“I know, but this time it was so good.” I said.
Harry looks up at me and says, “I love you Y/N.”
“I love you too H.” I smile.
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emmasincenewyrk · 1 year
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if there’s one thing about harry it’s that he’s gonna be adorable from every single angle
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freelouisankles · 11 months
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