#yn x harrystyles

[grapejuicestyless]

Our Last Dance

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n is Harry’s childhood best friend and the only person he’s been able to hang onto as his popularity grew. Y/n wasn’t as successful in life, but she wants to be able to do something nice for Harry one last time.(inspired by Aftersun…Warning: there is a lot of detail about vomit in this if that bothers you and depression/suicide.)

“It’s not much, but it’s right by the beach so I thought it might be nice.” I’ve known Harry for over two decades. He’s been my best friend since I was seven, I know everything there is to know about him. I know who he is, yet I still can’t help but feel ashamed when we stumble into the dusty hotel room, one large king sized bed sat in the center of the room and a balcony overlooking the blue oceans of Italy and an old handy cam from nineteen ninety something dangling from my wrist.

“No, no. It’s great.” Placing his suitcase on the tile flooring of the small bathroom, he flashes me a genuine smile before he peels back the bedsheets and checks the corners thoroughly for anything that could raise red flags.

“I could have sworn I paid for two beds, I don’t know how they mixed that up.” Running a hand through my hair, it only now hit me that there was only one place to sleep in the room. Usually, it would be no big deal seeing as Harry and I often spend our time together glued at the hip in his large bed or cramped together in my mid sized one. But I paid extra money to have the extra mattress, and money was tighter than usual and I just wanted everything to be perfect.

Harry simply shrugged it off, laying back against the headboard while dialing the front desks number with his right hand and welcoming me into his arms with his left one.

“I don’t have cooties, you know.” Shooting him a glare, I lay my head against his chest and take the phone in my hand that wasn’t wrapped underneath his waist. I feel one of his hands play around with the band on my wrist to grab the camera from me while he waits. The phone rings for some time before the monotone voice of the teenager working the front desk cracked through the shitty phone speakers.

Harry didn’t listen to much of the conversation, choosing to run his fingers through my hair and hum quietly under his breath, playing around with any buttons he could find on the camera.

“So thats the best you can do?” I asked, feeling my chest tighten like an elastic band. I raised from my spot on Harry’s chest, sitting on my knees and slouching in defeat, “No, I don’t need that. If I could get my money back though, for the extra bed?” Looking at Harry, I shook my head in question, sighing without making a sound.

“Yeah, that would be great. Thank you so much.” Before I could continue my passive aggressive approach to the situation, the line beeped dead and Harry began to crack a smile.

“’s not funny!” I slurred my words, feeling the ache between my bones hit me at that very moment. I let my body fall into Harry’s chest once again, sighing at the vanilla scent from his cologne that fills my nose and the warmth from his body despite the sweltering heat from the Italian summer making our joints extra sticky with sweat. A soft thud on the bedside table on Harry’s side tells me he’s done playing around on the camera and has turned his full attention to me.

“I don’t mind being stuck with you, y’know.” He tries to downplay the situation, diffusing my rising anxiety about expenses he recognizes in my mannerisms and my attitude. Huffing in response, I roll off of him and sprawl out like a starfish. My eyes find a home in the ceiling and I feel Harry take my right hand in his, “Why don’t we go to the pool? Why waste such a nice night pouting, yeah?” He tilts his head towards our bags that are still in the bathroom, and when our eyes meet, we both know someway or another he’s going to drag me down there.

“Race you?” I regret my words when I feel him scramble off the bed beside me, letting me get tangled in the sheets while he strips into his bright yellow swim trunks and dad-like flip flops. I laugh about it not being fair while I clasp my top in the back and desperately try and kick my sandals on but he’s already out the door, leaving it wide open as he runs down the slippery stairs and all but dives into the deep end of the teal waters.

“Come on in, the waters just fine!” He laughs, urging me to join him and I’ve never felt more alive as I full sprint off the edge of the cement and fall into the pool with my best friend.

“I call it a tie!” Water falls from my hairline as I break the water’s surface.

“What? No way, I smoked your ass!” Harry splashes me, hopping back when he sees me approaching him with a mischievous grin.

“You had a false start, I was not ready. So, as the officiator of this match, I have decided to add on penalty time meaning we tied.” The water creates a wave like pattern on our bodies, illuminating our sun kissed skin a hue of bluish-green and hiding any fading sunburns from the beginning of summer.

“You little minx!” He rushes towards me and I can feel my heart beating through my chest.

When he wraps his arms around my torso and threatens to dunk me, I can’t help the ugly giggles that bubble out of my mouth and shake my whole body. I can’t help the way my hands claw at his skin to keep me afloat even though I know he would never dunk me if I didn’t want him to or the way his laughter only makes my ribs tougher and my stomach ache worse.

“If I go down, I’m taking you with me!” Wrapping my hands around his shoulders, I somehow manage to maneuver myself in a way that has us both flipping into the six foot deep end.

I imagine the people who are sleeping just beside the pool are thankful for the brief silence when we are submerged, and I swear someone screams at us to shut the hell up when we start coughing and screaming again at the sudden chill of pool water soaking our drying skin.

“Best vacation ever!” Harry yells it in my ear, watching how I flinch away and cover my ears with my fingers and grimace, bearing all my teeth when I groan through them but also smiling while I do it.

I jump up onto his back, holding him like a koala bear and try my best not to slip off of his wet body.

“I know!” Somehow, we end up in the water again, and I don’t mind the sting of water in my nose or how I cough a large amount of it out over the edge of the pool when we break the surface again because Harry’s patting my back while I do it, and I do the same for him.

It’s funny and delirious and stupid, but the pool is occupied by us until our skin is pruned until there’s no more wrinkles to create and our lips are more blue than the water we swim in. And I swear, it feels like flying.

“One long island on the rocks!” He held up one finger but quickly held up another and corrected himself, “No, wait, two! Two on the rocks please!” He slurred, slapping a twenty down on the bar and handing one of the orangey-red drinks to me.

The glasses clinked together, sloshing the liquid within them and knocking my lime to the ground with a splat. Still, neither of us cared much, choosing to smile and laugh while we make our way back to the sandy shores of the nearby beach.

“This tastes so good! He knew what he was doing!” Pointing at my glass, I nod my head enthusiastically, feeling my cheeks start to hurt with how big I was smiling.

“No, you’re just drunk! I would know, I am too!” Harry stumbles all the way to the sand, downing the glass and setting it on the top of a nearby trashcan along with my half finished one.

“Heyyy, I wasn’t done!” Taking my hands in his, Harry begins pulling me to the waves that crashed down onto the sand, laughing at how my feet struggle to keep up with his in our drunken states.

“Come on, I’m hot!” The water hit our skin like a ton of bricks, tiny icicles hitting up to our hips and before we could turn back, a large wave knocked us over and fully submerged our goosebump covered bodies.

“Holy shit! Holy shit!” It didn’t necessarily hurt, being in the water and splashing around in it’s freezing temperatures, but it was shocking, especially with the extra heat of alcohol roasting us underneath the warmth of the summer sun.

Neither of us speak for a moment, choosing to hold our arms away from our bodies and look down at ourselves like we are trying to air dry our limbs after the accidental ice bath.

A puff of air leaves Harry’s mouth, followed by another and another. I look up to see him, and he’s already looking at me with a smile plastered on his face and giggles falling from his drunken lips. I’m only acutely aware of the heavy feelings in my limbs, but my own giggles falling from my lips mask the weird sensation and I don’t really care for it.

“You have seaweed on your…” Pointing to the top of his head, I look at the very small piece of the plant tangled in his curly brown hair, it almost looks like it’s part of it.

Harry picks it out, dangling in front of his face and smiling at it for a second. Then, he throws it at me.

“Ew! No-Harry!” Flinching away, I splash more water onto the both of us and feel the shock of it too, but I can’t stop moving, even after it’s fallen into the water in front of me, only barely touching my arm. Harry doesn’t seem to mind the water anymore though, sitting back and watching my overdramatic reaction to his antics. It’s only after I stop flailing about that he leans his too half into the water, scooping up a larger chunk of the plant and staring at me like a man with a plan.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare!” Running through the water feels impossible, each stride I take being slowed by the movement of the shallow waves and the uneven surface of the rocks and the sand underneath my feet. I can hear his breathing just behind my ears, and the sloshing of his feet breaking through the water makes my heart pound faster.

I’m not sure where the chase disperses, when he gets tired of chasing me and decides to call a truce, but Harry stops chasing me after a good long while, metallic taste in our mouths rising from our throats and breathing so heavy, I think for a second I’ll have to go running to find Harry’s inhaler.

“Are you okay?” His voice fades in and out of my ears, I’m too focused on the taste in my throat and the steady restriction of my throat. I feel it bubbling up, and the saliva in my mouth seems to multiply. I’m on the brink of sobriety, or something close to it, so when he calls after me as I fight my way out of the ocean, I keep steady on my path to the one open trashcan just down the shore.

My hands grip the edge of the hot black plastic rim, bending myself forward and popping my foot up to better submerge myself into the opening. A gag followed by another and another shakes my entire body before everything spews out of me in an orangey-lime colored mess. I can still taste the alcohol on my breath, and I can feel the tears behind my eyes.

Harry came to rub my back and hold my hair, rubbing circles and looking away so I won’t feel embarrassed after.

Rising from the trashcan, I notice he also looks a bit paler than before, his eyes carry a baggage I never noticed and his lips are chapped.

“Fuck.” Wiping anything that could have gotten on my lips away, Harry laughs at me in the same drunken way he did in the water.

“What? What?!” I catch myself laughing, holding my stomach and feeling it turn underneath my palms. He directs his head towards the ocean, leaning against the trashcan now and somehow ignoring the smell.

“Real amateur move, just threw up in the great big ocean like any other person.” He jokes, and I feel my face contort with disgust. I would have laughed harder if I were still completely hammered, but after physically ridding myself of most of what I have consumed within the past few hours, I’m beginning to feel the effects washing off and leaving behind an intense pounding in my head.

“You’re disgusting.” Looking behind me, I make sure Harry is still following me. The day isn’t even close to being over yet, but with us pouring down shots at ten in the morning like it’s water, it feels more like midnight rather than midday.

Weaving between dirt paths made from excessive use on grassy areas and sidewalks that lead us to where we need to be, Harry and I are complaining about how heavy our feet feel and how tired we are getting. The drunk highs have already passed and all we can focus on is the plushy bed waiting for us at the hotel.

“Y/n!” Harry’s hand pulls me back, his chest hitting my spine with the force he uses against me. My foot that had stepped off of the sidewalk to cross the road to get to our hotel is yanked back onto the higher ground, a bus honking as it speeds by. I can feel his heartbeat pounding into my body and the sweat gathering on his palms. He mumbles something under his breath, the but ringing of the horn is still overwhelming my eardrums and drowning out everything else.

Truly, I don’t care that much about the incident, it wouldn’t mean much anyway if I had kept going. I probably would have made it, or worse case scenario, the wheel nicks my foot. But it has Harry all up in arms, checking the road on both sides multiple times before he decides it’s safe to cross. I’ll blame it on my drunkenness or my tiredness, and Harry will scold me, if we don’t fall asleep first. Which we do.

Or rather, he does.

The softness of the bed is nice, something that I was able to sink into the night before when I reached a point of absolute exhaustion, but now it feels too soft on my back that is used to my hard mattress at home. The pillows are flat, or at least mine are, and the blankets are scratchy.

The tiles in the bathroom are cold, a deep blue color that compliments the boring grey walls nicely. The toilet creaks as I shift all my weight down onto it, a bottle that resembles aloe vera to my left and a bucket of water to my right.

The cap pops open quietly, and the gel pours out of it with a fight. It’s been left behind somehow, and nobody has come to collect it. It’s gooey and it smells odd, sticking together in clumps between my fingers and pulling at my arm hair when I try to spread it.

My eyes are too heavy and my fingers are lazy, I can’t even try to fight against the thick mess rubbing into my skin.

Sighing, I give up on the gel, not liking the tug, even though the cold feels good on my skin. It’s when I close the cap again, holding the previously discarded bottle in my hands I realize I’ve read it wrong in my sleepy haze. It’s only so gooey because it’s not aloe vera, but rather a hair gel with aloe vera in it.

“What the fuck?” It goes straight into the trash, right next to the water bucket which is swiftly slid over to sit right in front of me, propped between my ankles.

It doesn’t pull off easy, taking some hair with it. My skin feels slimy for a little, but no longer sticky. I think it’s probably because in a way, I’ve just waxed my arms because I’m too damn lazy to thoroughly read a bottle. Other than the horrible feeling of it, I don’t mind the inconvenience of it. It wasn’t like I was going to sleep anytime soon, and it distracted from the pounding in my head. I wonder silently if Harry packed anything for pain? I hadn’t, I’d barely remembered to pack enough shirts and he always has those kind of things.

Treading lightly along the carpeted floors and looking over my shoulder, I see Harry passed out on his stomach, a little wet spot collecting under his cheek which is firmly pressed against the comforter. The zipper to his bag is much louder than mine, it’s also ten times more expensive than mine and newer. But he has the money to spend, and I would do the same if I were him. I just wish with how much money it cost that they would have opted for a quieter zipper. I think back to when we were still in school, taking calculus and cheating off of each other and stealing notes. Harry was always a very heavy sleeper in his teen years, but it feels like the more well known he becomes, the more jumpy he is in his sleep. Maybe it’s because of the constant pressure of pleasing his fans or the rigorous schedule his team put him on in his early twenties, but it eases the aching in my chest to think it’s just because he’s getting older.

A tiny pack of aspirin catches my attention in the first pocket I open along side some deodorant and toothpaste. An odd combination, but very Harry.

Opening it with a struggle because of the damn child lock caps, I see there are only three left. All that struggle only to be able to take one. After all, it’s not mine and Harry would surely need more than me after the current coma he was inducing, his groaning and complaining is something I can already hear. I swallow it dry and drift over to the balcony.

The sun is still so high in the sky, it’s only just past one now. Children play and cars pass, the breeze is blowing my shirt against my body and cooling the sweat that is collecting on my upper lip.

Harry is passed out in bed and my body is more awake than ever. It’s funny because it’s usually him calling my phone late at night telling me he’s on the way over and to get myself ready because we’re going out. I smile to myself, all of our best memories happen just before we get drunk it seems like. The wine spilling on his carpet after his first grammy win, or the deep conversations curled up in the corner of some bar while we nurse some strong beverages and laugh about all of our shitty lovers and toxic exes.

“Harry.” Calling out to him from the balcony, I find it’s much more comfortable out here in the breeze, where it feels like flying if you stick out your arms and close your eyes, rather than laying like a dead man in a stuffy hotel room.

He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t even shift. He still has the redness in his cheeks that tequila stains him with and the sweat collecting on his hairline. He looks completely at peace with himself, unbothered by the broken air conditioning and the overworked fan humming away in the corner.

I decide that just because he isn’t up for an adventure, I shouldn’t sit around and wait for him to find one. Theres a crinkled up receipt on the floor just by the foot of the bed, it’s got his name on the top and a long list of drinks down the length of it. I flip it over and flatten out. There’s no good pens, only a half dead one on the dresser that makes loud scratching sounds every time it passes over the paper.

Gone out, couldn’t sleep. Be back in an hour. Love you always and forever! Xoxo, your best friend.

It sits stuck with an edge trapped beneath the phone on the bedside table, the rest of it blows softly every time the fan rotates in that direction. Harry scrunches his nose slightly every time the breeze hits him, it feels nice in the summer heat and even better with the extra warmth in our veins. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it, it makes a moment like this sweeter. A memory only I’ll remember and get to carry with me.

I hope no matter what happens my brain never fails me, so that when I die and go wherever I’m supposed to be in the afterlife, I can still have my memories to hold onto and I’ll be able to carry his smile with me as I roam the empty earth alone.

“These glasses are nice.” My fingers run over the rims, feeling the smoothness of the glossy finish over the tortoiseshell color. Harry has a very similar pair, only the temple tips of his have worn down and there are scratches on the lenses. He has plenty of sunglasses, but he those are his favorite. He insists on wearing them even when some of his have never been touched.

“How much are they?” Holding them up to my eyes, I move them back and forth to watch the darkened parts of the world shrink and expand within the round boarders.

“A hundred.” The man behind the counter smiles nicely at me, watching how delicately my hands hold the glasses between my fingers. I clear my throat and fold the temples in.

“Sorry, in pounds?” He lulls his head back, thinking and clicking his tongue while he counts.

“About eighty five pounds, one hundred seven US dollars.” I nod my head and place them on the counter. As soon as I do so, the man seems to be quick to swoop them up and clean away any marks left behind with a cloth. It almost makes me laugh.

“Uhm…” I dig through my wallet, looking at what I have left. I’ve emptied most of my account into my wallet for this extended weekend. My savings going into the tickets and the hotel room, which felt more like a motel, and some change going towards drinks and food. Still, I have nearly double what I need for it left in my wallet and motivation that makes me dig it out of the leathery pocket and hand it over to the man. “Eighty five, right there.” I smile up at him and he smiles back. He gives me the glasses back in a fancy case with a magnetic button that seals them away safely which is wrapped tightly in light blue wrapping paper. It crinkles in my hands, but I think it’s just lovely. Harry will love it.

“Thank you. Have a good day!” A bell chimes when I exit the store, and the stifling heat outside makes my already prominent eye bags feel ten times heavier than before. I feel the same sluggish feeling I did after the beach, only this time it’s accompanied by a real sense of tiredness only the overly soft bed can fix.

The sounds of the passing cars and the ticking of crosswalk signals all sort of blur into the distance the closer I get to the room. My key is stuffed in with the crinkled bills and old coupons that have expired long ago. I’m so focused on getting into the warm comforts of the room, I don’t hear the shuffling around inside of it or the angelic humming of my best friend just on the other side of the door.

“Y/n/n!” He looks like he’s been hit by a bus. A really beautiful, clean, expensive bus. Even hungover with dry drool on his cheek the man still manages to resemble one of those greek statues that proudly display their defined features and sharp jawlines.

He has the bottle of Advil in one hand and the handy cam presses in the palm of the other. He moves it close to my face until I swat it down, laughing at him like he wanted.

My thumb presses against his cheek, my palm cupping his chin. I wipe away the dry drool and make a mental note to wash my hands before I touch anything else.

“Have a nice sleep?” His tongue pokes out of his mouth to lick away my hand and for the second time today I grimace in disgust and back off, but not before wiping the wet patch down his arm.

“It was okay. Woke up a little after you left, I think. Thought you up and left me until I found the note.” He jokes.

“How’d you know I wasn’t just in the bathroom then if you didn’t see the note?” I see now that he’s moved it over to another table in the room and that the phone it was under is moved to the further side of the table.

“I didn’t hear snoring.” I hit his arm. “Ow!”

“Asshole!” He laughs at me and for a second I think about hitting him again, but this time over the top of his head.

“You love me.” I shake my head, walking to the bathroom to piss or vomit, I’m not really sure.

“Nope.” I pop the ‘p’, closing the door and locking it in his face.

“Yes you do, you liar! You wrote it right here! Love you always and forever, xoxo, your best friend! You put two different kinds of love in one note! You must really love me!” I open the door and throw a towel at him before slamming it shut again.

“Don’t love you enough to not debate tossing you over the balcony right now!” I hear him laugh at that and for a second, as we wind down from our fits of giggles it’s completely quiet.

“I do love you though.” I admit softly, hunched over the toilet and smiling.

“I knew it!” I can practically hear his gloating grin in his shouting and I wonder how no one has come knocking at our door to tell us to shut up yet.

I shush him aggressively, placing a finger to my lips even though he cant see it, “Quiet! Please, can’t a girl throw up in peace?” Harry groans, but his back doesn’t lift from the door and his shadow doesn’t move.

“Do you need me to hold your hair?” I don’t answer him, instead I unlock the door, holding back a gag as the familiar restrictive feeling comes back up my throat. I’m on my knees when he walks in and his hands are threading through my hair as gently as possible.

“Let it all out.” He tries to be comforting, finding that his hands are big enough to hold my hair and rub my back at the same time. I don’t find it aggravating, in fact I think it’s kind of sweet that he cares so much, that he doesn’t completely ignore me because it’s gross. But I can’t lie and say I didn’t roll my eyes a little bit when he says it, because it feels just a little condescending and my mouth tastes bitter.

“Oh my god, please stop talking.” My head is back in the toilet, gagging up a mix of medication, ocean water, alcohol and old water from Harry’s water bottle. Harry’s laughing and I can’t help but too, but it comes out more as a dry cough followed by a string of spit into the water which only makes us laugh harder.

After some time, I think I’ve gotten it all out. Instead of being hunched over the toilet, by back is pressed against the cool tiles of the bathroom floor and my arms are resting over Harry’s chest. The sound of our breathing fills the quiet room and we find that it’s very comfortable just sitting like this, in the company of the other.

“Harry,” He hums, turning his head to look at me even though mine is still facing the ceiling, “Did you turn off the camera?” He sits up quickly, huffing curses under his breath and looking to see how long he had been recording. My laughter echos throughout the room when he sees he’s captured the entire thing, shutting it off swiftly and storing it in an empty compartment in his bag.

He calls it stupid, a waste of space and useless, but I know he doesn’t think that. His sister gave it to me when she got her first phone and I’ve used it to record special trips ever since. He texted me to remind me to bring it, and I yell out to call him a dirty liar while he pouts around.

“Come on, we’ve been in bed all day. The weekend’s not passing any slower and we aren’t getting any younger!” He shook me vigorously, smiling that same toothy grin I remember from our childhood, and the same one that promised before he ever stepped foot onto a stage that he would never forget me, and would always be near. We’ve both changed, but it’s nice to know that some promises are forever.

I simply shrug Harry off, finding peace in the cocoon of our bedding that he had made for us in the middle of the night. Still, he’s persistent against my body, begging and pleading for me to just go with him and he hasn’t even said where he wants to go.

“We’ve only got two good nights left before we leave and this is one of them. Get up!” I don’t choose to listen to his whining, mumbling something about the cheep ass wine we found at the drug store around the block and the pounding in my head thats only gotten worse on this three day bender.

“You can’t still be hung over, get up. Come on, I planned something fun for us!” Again, he tries to take me with him. He knows that once I’m up, I’m up. I’ll easily follow him anywhere with anyone because with him, it’s just that simple.

“Harry.” I warn him, my voice airy and soft the first time and my eyes avoiding his playful expression. Still, he seems to find it all too entertaining that I’m so stubborn yet so easy to crack. He keeps pushing, literally, and begging and whining and talking.

“Harry, stop!” Sitting up from the blankets, for a second he thinks he’s won. I’m above the covers and facing him just like he wants but then he see’s the bags under my eyes and the haze hanging over my face. While I am up, no longer comforted by the security of the blankets, I am not able to leave the mattress. So, he backs away, scoffing under his breath and looking to the ceiling like I’ve just kicked him.

I can hear the faint sound of tapping by his side, the same sound I know to be of his thumb digging into his cuticles and picking away any fresh skin until he bleeds. Usually, I would at least tell him to stop, even if we were angry at each other, but today I find that I don’t really have the energy to do anything except slump into myself and hold my head in my hands.

“Jesus, Y/n.” He’s turned himself around so he’s looking out of the glass doors that lead to the small balcony. For a second it even looks like he’s tempted to slide them open and just be with the breeze, but he doesn’t do that. Instead, Harry has spun himself back around with the saddest look on his face and blotches of red produced from stress lining his neck.

“Harry, please. Maybe later, I just…I just don’t feel up to it right now.” I’m praying that he understands, he surely should. He better than anyone else would know the feeling of creeping aches in our joints and the heaviness of our mind.

“You’re never up to it.” Is what he says instead. He was never going to coddle me, that I understood. While he had in the past, we were never the over the top touchy people who survived solely off of the brush of a stray arm at a party or a compliment of a stranger at midnight.

His words have always been kind, but not this time it seems. Because they wobble a little when he says it and he doesn’t look very confident in how he’s standing. But I wouldn’t know because I can’t even look him in the eyes right now.

“We’ve spent the last couple days getting sick out of our minds in the bathroom, it smell’s like a bar in here and yet, you can’t even find it in you to push through for a few hours for your best friend?” He doesn’t really mean it that way, he’ll come back later tonight begging me to understand what he really meant, but just because Harry has always been kind does not mean he has always been smart. Sometimes, even the person who preaches kindness to everyone can be a foul man to the people he loves.

“You know that’s not what’s happening, stop being a jerk!” I scream but I don’t mean to. In fact, I don’t even know why I’m yelling because I’m not angry, or irritated or anything. It’s like I’ve been dragged through some slick mud, stuck in it with nothing to grab onto to pull me out, not even Harry. It keeps me here, in this bed, it’s paralysis through the brain. I can move but every cell in my body advises me to stay put.

Breathing heavily, Harry simply sticks his hands into his pockets, shoving his knuckles down so harshly that I can see the waist tug down just a little further on his stomach. His nose is flaring up and his lips moving with his tongue that swipes over his teeth.

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, I really don’t, but you need to fix it.” It’s low coming from his mouth, almost like he wants me to hear it, but he doesn’t want to say it. My throat has gone dry now, eyes looking at his forehead rather than his eyes because now I can’t even stand the sight of him anymore. I’m so much more than tired and he doesn’t get it, my best friend doesn’t get it.

The door closes, the handle rattling with the force he shuts it with, and yet even though we’ve just blown up at each other all I can worry about is if he’d hung the do not disturb sign on the door or not. My best friend, my life has just walked out on me, blind with rage and all I can worry about is if someone will come knocking or not?

I’ve always known there was something wrong with me, the sunny Saturday’s not hitting quite the same and the good things always draining my body of the little life I had left to give. The other kids were never that way, going from party to party in high school and laughing like they had no tomorrow to worry about.

Theres something royally fucked up about me and I don’t know how to help it. I know that theres nothing wrong with what I have, but I can’t help but feel ashamed when I find the most interest in rotting away in some lumpy bed when the whole world is just at my fingertips and I can explore it all with a hell of a good man and best friend by my side.

A soft knock at the door pulls me from my self pity, and for a second I almost let myself believe that it could be Harry coming back. But the voice of an older woman knocking to see if anyone will answer and tell her to go away changes the image of Harry on the other side of the door into a woman hunched over with a cleaning cart and reality sets in.

“Sorry, I’m in here!” I call out, and when she doesn’t answer, I let myself become pulled from the bed, sitting up to answer it if I have to. The wheels of the cart move on to the rest of the hallway, a faint knock followed by the jingle of room keys tell me that she’s left, and so has Harry.

A trip I planned for him, one that I worked so hard to make possible just in case I were to never be put in a position where I could ever again, ruined because of myself. A selfish monster is crawling under my skin, over my bones and it just doesn’t feel right, why can’t I feel alright?

Hot tears are pouring down my cheeks, falling into my lap as I now sit in nothing more than a damp swimsuit and Harry’s old grey shirt I stole from him back in high school. It still smells like him, even after I’ve washed it over and over. I try not to because once it’s gone, and I fear that all leftover from our youth will become washed away and the cloudy haze of simplicity that comes with it.

“Oh, god!” The words heave out of me in a deep breath, cracking with each syllable. I try to rub my hands up and down against my thighs, but my hands are shaking and I can’t see all that well through my teary vision, I find myself clawing at the fat of my thighs, pressing deeper and deeper until the ache becomes so intense that my fingers stutter and break free.

I don’t think I could speak if I tried. It’s hard to scream when it’s hard to breathe, and my lungs are giving out right in front of me while I wail like a tall child, rocking slightly with each deep breath and the tremble of my joints.

Its dark, orange hues sinking into pitch black lit up by splintered streetlights and yellowed overhead lights shining through windows. The moon casts a streak of light through the glass doors, the same that lead out onto the balcony, and I can see the crescent shapes of my nails tattooed into my skin and red with blood.

Harry’s out getting drunk, probably bent over a pool table or people watching at the outdoor bar on the other side of the resort, and I imagine his velvet laugh hanging in the air and the gentle sound of his hushed dirty jokes whispered in my ears.

I hope he knows that I do love him, I only ever want him around forever, and if I could fix myself in every way to be more fit for you, I would. I just hope that someday he’ll forget all about this, and I could act happy.

“Are you still mad at me?” My arms are tucked over the sheets, hands clasped together and eyes glued to the ceiling, Harry does nothing more than breathe heavily out through his nose beside me in the same position I lay in.

“Harry?” I call again, the shuffle of my head rubbing against the pillow case filling the silence in the room.

It’s nearly the same time as the night before, our last day together spent avoiding speaking to each other, but our longing gazes speak for us, and we both recognize that we miss the company of the other.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to waste any of our time together, I just wasn’t feeling right.” I try to reason, and I don’t think it works until I see his head falling to the side to look at me, his hands unclasping so he can reach up and brush the flyaways out of my face.

“It’s okay.” He tells me with his palm pressed to my cheek, slowly moving to cradle my jawline with his pinky.

He wears a sad smile, one that tells me he’s still bothered. But, unfortunately for him, I’m a sick woman, not a nasty one.

“No, it’s not okay, it’s not and I’m sorry.” Shaking his shoulder with my hand, I find it in my sleep filled bones to pull the sheets off of both of us, slipping over his body to stand by the side of his bed where I start shaking him again.

“It’s not okay so let me make it up to you.” My hands find their way under his arms, trying my best to pull him from the mattress that has been dented with the shapes of our bodies.

He whines, closing his eyes and fighting a smile but doesn’t try to fight against my pull. He falls into my body with a grunt, eyelashes fluttering against my collar bone and the feeling of his lips curling into a secret smile against my shoulder, we both laugh silently, and my hands briefly rub at his back.

“Alright, come on idiot, get up because I’m taking you out. My treat!” Shoving him back into the bed, he bounces against the worn springs and settles back into place, hands folded over his stomach and a toothy grin on his face. I can see how his eyes shift, the same broken eyes from the night before mended into the same green ones I always knew, the same ones that were now subtly shifting around to observe my face, admiring my smile the way I do to him.

“We don’t have all night, come on!” And he’s up, feet padding behind mine with that same lopsided smile he’s worn since we started talking again and the same energy I’ve always known him to have.

We’re out the door within minutes, barely even put together when the door slams shut, just like before only now we’re both rushing down the steps, tripped over the gaps in the stairs and the weeds that grow within the cement.

“Come on, catch up!” I can’t stop laughing, no alcohol in my system and yet I’ve got the same rose colored haze covering my eyes and the same smile that bears all my teeth.

Harry is panting behind me, joking that without his trainer and daily routines he’s lost his touch, his feet slapping the ground with a loud thud every time they connect, breath heavy in my ears.

The moon hangs high in the sky, accompanied by millions of sparkling stars surrounding its welcoming glow and twinkling fairy lights hung from every nearby post to the next. You can yell and scream all you want and the music from the outdoor bar and the hum of the air conditioning will tune you out. It’s like free falling without the bone crush sprinting and weaving through these paths, it feels like living.

In the distance, from across the street just beyond the pools you can hear the music grow louder, my ears picking up on the strumming of a baseline and the tune of an old song that we used to sing not so long ago.

Freddie Mercury’s voice mixed with Bowie is something I believe to be heaven on earth, a mix that can never be over appreciated or overplayed. We’ve caught the beginning of the famous song and we both know it, and without a second glance, Harry smiles at me because he knows it better than anyone that I’ve set my heart on something tonight.

My palms are sweating in the humid summer night heat, but I grab onto Harry’s hand anyways and pull him along with me, only quickly checking both ways for cars as we sprint across the significantly newer cement and laugh. A car’s headlights appear just over the hill and a small blue car speeds past us once we’ve made it up the curb, but I don’t stop.

No, instead I’m turning my whole body to face him, only focused on the curly headed boy who’s held my heart in the palms of his hands since we were only kids running on the blacktop and through the muddy grass at school. I only hear his muffled laughter under the booming music and the crowd that takes up the makeshift dance floor at the bar.

His feet are planted on the floor and I can feel my hands slipping away from his, Freddie sings about the people on the streets, the snaps of the bridge quiet enough for my voice to begin reaching his ears.

“I don’t dance!” He shrugs his shoulders, letting his hands fall to his sides stubbornly as I back away towards the crowd even more, but I stick close by.

“Harry.” Tilting my head, I look at him knowingly. He does dance, within the tiling of my kitchen or the walls of his bedroom, on stage for his fans or at parties after a few too many shots. Harry does dance, he just wont.

“I never, ever dance.” He’s trying to convince me, trying to hide his smile that so desperately wants to break free.

Holding my arms out and moving my body back slowly, I smile at him fondly, “I’m dancing with or without you.” I’m getting farther away now, and he’s stuck in place, watching with his best poker face.

“I told you I love to dance!” Spinning around, I place my hands on my hips and do my worst dancing possible just to see the blush on his face rise into a peachy pink.

“Y/n/n, stop. This is embarrassing.” He tries to keep lying, but his words fade into a weak laugh at the end and his teeth show for just a second too long.

“This is embarrassing?” He knows I don’t believe him, I never did but still I find myself moving closer to the crowd, stepping to the beat and and swaying my hips and shoulders.

When I turn around, he’s looking at me in a way I’ve never seen before, like I’ve hung the sun and the stars all for him and spread them across the sky.

“What? Come on.” My arm slings around his shoulder, pulling him in and trapping him on the dance floor. He finds it funny, all this fight, but he’s breaking down and we both know it.

“Ready?” I tease, holding his biceps in my hands and trying to move in the same way I just was. He tries to tell me to stop, by I don’t pay him any attention as I tell him, “Let’s dance.”

“Stop!” He shoves me back playfully, but his smile is showing all his teeth and his laugh is filled with pure happiness, he doesn’t even try to fight when I pull him back onto the floor, dancing with him with no real rhythm or rules.

I feel his heartbeat against mine, our bodies pressed together tightly as he spins me in his arms like real friends do.

‘Cause loves such an old-fashioned word and love dares you to care for the people(people on the streets) on the edge of the night and love(people on the streets) dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.

He spins me around and holds my head in his hands, I can smell the toothpaste on his lips and feel the scars from his guitar on his pointer and his thumb.

This is our last dance, this is our last dance

“Have I ever told you I love you?” I scream at him despite how close we are, and the smile he shows me is infectious.

“A few times, yeah!” He jokes, but the music is too good and the night is growing tired. I don’t want this night to end, I want to feel this way forever, I don’t want to have to always chase it.

“Well I mean it, and I’ve never felt this way about anyone else!” He spins for the thousandth time of the night, lifting my head above his just to hear my squeals.

“Consider myself lucky then, because I love you like I’ve loved no one else!” Harry says it, but he says it in a way that feels different than my confession. I hope I can hold onto him forever.

This is ourselves

The camera clicks to a stop, a collection of some stray videos from early high school and a storyline reflecting back on our final trip. The camera still has dents from her careless behavior when storing it away, and the quality of each video feels so much worse without her here to watch and laugh with me. It feels older, I am older.

A year since I’d last seen her, a year since we took separate planes home and promised to visit each other soon. A year since I got that damn letter in the mail taped to a small gift shaped in a crinkly mess from the blue wrapping paper just days after the news broke like some sort of sick joke.

I hate that I can only hear her voice through the salvaged videos, the wind covering the breathiness of her laugh and the calming sound of her voice. I hate the way I’ll never see the way her eyes sparkle under the night skies again, and most importantly I hate how I never saw it coming, even when she was showing me all of the signs.

I don’t think I’ll ever open that letter, not for a while at least, when the pain has settled. But how can it when I’ve just lost my whole life? The only person to ever make me feel alive in a way nobody else ever could, not even the screaming crowds of thousands of fans each night.

But I’ll reread the front of it like a prayer, her messy handwriting something I’ll miss forever, the little notes she’d pass or the drawings in sharpie that left stains behind on my coffee table.

The front of the letter, though crinkled from shipping and losing its stickiness reads, “To Harry, the love of my life, I love you always and forever. Love, y/n.” And just beside her name she leaves a little heart, something to try and lessen the blow of her absence.

And the glasses she sent along with the letter, the last thing she ever gave me. They still have a lingering smell of Italy, but more than that, I convince myself I can still smell her perfume on the plastic. Even when doing one last nice thing to me though, she leaves a little piece of paper taped to the lenses, “They were getting a little gross…try these.” And with snot running down my chin and red blotches of skin from my tears, I find myself laughing at her stupid little insult.

I know I’ll love these forever, and I’ll laugh whenever I put them on, because in my head I can see her taking them off of my head and trying them on, and we’ll both agree that they look better on her.

I hope they never loose her smell, and I hope that I never forget the sound of her voice or the colors in her eyes. She’ll never know about the plans I hoped we’d make, and she’ll never be back to try and embarrass me and dance with me in public.

But sometimes when I’m lucky I get to relive those moments in my sleep, and it’s almost like I can still feel her touch and see her smile even if it’s across some dark bar that never ends.

So I’ll live through her in pieces, telling all those willing to listen her story and how much I’ll always love her. And I’ll hang onto our last dance forever.

[gurugirl]

The Handyman

Summary: When you inherit your aunt's estate after she passes away, you hire Harry to fix up the old house but that's not all he winds up being good for.

A/N: This was requested! Also if you'd like to see early access content like this (plus more exclusive content) consider joining my Patreon! xoxo

Word Count: 10.9k

Warning: smut, mentions of a close relative dying, and tons of sweetness

When you pulled up the long dirt driveway to the old estate you used to spend your summers at, it was as if you could feel your aunt Gayla’s presence all around you again. You could remember running through the fields and the trees and dawdling your afternoons away on the big wraparound porch with extra sweet lemonade and book after book.

Your aunt would have her old radio playing with records or cassette tapes, volume turned up so loud you’d be out climbing a tree a quarter mile off and could still hear the sounds of Credence Clearwater Revival or Stevie Nicks crooning over the distance. When the sun would begin to dip in the sky, oranges and pinks coloring in where it was bright blue just before, she’d change the record to Bill Withers or maybe even Louis Armstrong and she’d call you in by screaming at the top of her lungs that it was time to eat. But when you’d arrive she’d pull you into her arms and dance with you and tell you how important it was to read, write, dance, and love.

And everything she did and the way she lived her life had the biggest influence on yours these days. She had been your favorite person, next to your mother of course. But your mother died when you were 17 and your aunt filled in to help raise you when your dad was overwhelmed with the loss of his wife and trying to reign in a hormonal and emotional young woman. He tried his best but you knew it was lucky your aunt stepped up to help guide you into adulthood.

So it came as almost no surprise to anyone when your aunt passed and she left you everything she had. At the time you didn’t realize she had so much. At the reading of the will, it was just you and your father. The lawyer said you’d be inheriting her estate and every dime she had to her name. But when he read off the number, well, that part very much came as a surprise.

It was a life-changing number. And her old, huge house set on 16 acres in that old, small town was worth far more than you ever imagined it would be. You were advised to sell it at first. And you certainly considered it. What would you be needing with so much space all by yourself so far away from the big city you currently lived in? That money could just be piled on top of the already large sum she’d left you.

But the more you considered selling it the more you hated that idea. All the wonderful memories you had there, all that gorgeous space with expanses of marble and hardwood and tall trees and meadowland could be a sanctuary. It could be a place for you to live. To enjoy the large space, tall ceilings, and windows, the sunrises and sunsets… To play music loudly and dance in front of your oven as you baked muffins and write to your heart’s content.

It could certainly be far better than your studio apartment that cost nearly as much in rent as what you made working your ass off at the paper. You could move out of your rundown, mouse-infested building and fix up the old estate to your liking. You could quit your job and begin writing full-time like you always wanted. Your aunt’s house would be the perfect place to begin your new adventure. A refuge of peace. An oasis of your own to spark inspiration and creativity.

And so here you were, standing with the key in hand on the big front porch, old, rotted boards bending and cracking as you stepped up to the door to open it for the first time in years. When your aunt had fallen sick, she’d been transferred to the city to live with your father as she was unable to care for herself during the end of her life. You helped as often as possible. On Saturdays, you’d take her to the park to sit on the bench and watch the birds and the trees and you’d chat about the books you were reading and life. You did that every Saturday until she could no longer be moved from her bed. But you were always with her every Saturday, by her side and holding her hand until she had no more Saturdays left.

You felt a surge of emotion as you walked through the space. The old funky vintage chandelier that hung over the dining table was covered in cobwebs. When your aunt had it installed you helped her paint the little ceramic flowers in various shades of green and yellow. It had been all white at one time.

But it was the window that stretched along the wall that overlooked the back acreage that drew you closer. Pulling the dusty curtains aside, sunshine filled the room. Sheets covered the furniture that had all been left behind.

The whole place was yours. And you had a great feeling about this next phase in your life.

. . .

After a week of cleaning, working in the garden, peeling wallpaper down, having a new refrigerator and oven range installed as well as a washer and dryer for clothes, and attempting to tear out wooden boards from the front porch all by yourself, you’d hit a wall. It was clear you’d need help to get the house in tip-top shape.

Scouring the internet for handyman recommendations, you were left feeling quite hopeless. So you made a trip into town to talk to the owner of the hardware shop you met some days earlier when you were buying paint and tools. He had mentioned he knew someone who could help if you ever needed. A local man who took over his father’s business. You imagined there weren’t a lot of people willing to make the trip out to the small town and then even further out to the old house miles from the main road.

When you arrived, as you expected, the place was empty aside from Mr. George shuffling about behind the counter. When he spotted you his face lit up in a grin, “Miss Y/n! How can I help you this Thursday morning?”

“Hi, Mr. George. I was uh, wondering if I could get the number of that handyman you were telling me about? I think I’ve done all I can do by myself at this point. Some of the electricity needs rewiring, the boards in the porch are rotting away–“

“Say no more, my dear. I’ll call him right now,” he placed his hand over the phone receiver, “We’ll see if he can make some time today or tomorrow and if not, I’ll bet he can fit you in next week for a quote.”

“Next week?” You frowned.

“Well, he’s the only one who runs the business these days. His pop passed away a couple of months back so I’m assuming he might be a bit busy. Good guy, though. I wouldn’t recommend him if I didn’t think he’d do your aunt’s place justice.”

You nodded. That would have to be good enough you supposed. If not this week, next week you figured would be okay. Things were different in the small town than they were back in the big city. Life moved a bit slower and that was something you would just have to get used to.

Mr. George dialed the number he pulled up from his desktop Rolodex as you patiently waited to find out if the recommended handyman would be interested in helping you or not.

“Harry! My boy! How are you?” Mr. George spoke into the receive with a big smile.

“Yeah… I’m well too. Hey, look,” he glanced at you, “I’ve got a lovely young woman here who needs some help with her new house… yes. It’s that old mansion off Timbert. The one about a two miles from the main road… exactly. Gayla’s old place… It’s her niece, uh,” he cupped the receiver and looked at you with his brows raised as you spoke your name to him, “her name is Y/n.”

Seemed everyone in this town knew your aunt. You watched George scribble down something on a piece of scrap paper before sliding it over to you and began to make a little small talk with the man called Harry.

It was a number and the name of the company, Styles and Son. Mr. George pointed at the paper, and looked at you, “Write your number down here for me.”

You picked up the pen he used and wrote your number with your first and last name next to it, handing the paper back to him.

Mr. George tore off the section with your number and nodded at you, “Okay, ready for the number?”

He read it off to Harry before looking at you and holding out the receiver, “Wants to ask you a couple of questions.”

“Oh, sure,” you reached for the phone and stepped closer to the counter so you could put it to your ear, “Hello?”

“Hi. You’re Gayla’s niece?”

“Yes, sir. She recently passed and left the house to me and I wanted to fix it up a little.”

“My dad used to help Gayla out whenever she needed things done. I’ve never had the opportunity to see the inside but I’d like to come by maybe tomorrow afternoon when you have an hour or so to spare?”

“Sure! I’ll be home all day. Any time works for me.”

“Great. Let’s say around 2? I’ll give you a call before I head that way. George gave me your phone number, and make sure he gives you mine.”

“Oh yeah. He already did. I’ve got it written down here.”

“M’kay… well, I’ll see you tomorrow Y/n.”

“Sure! And thank you again!”

Mr. George took the phone from you and placed it into its cradle to hang up the call, “You know… Harry’s a single man. Bout your age. My wife says he’s a looker and I reckon you two might get along well.”

“Is that so?” You grinned at the store owner as you folded up Harry’s contact info and stuffed it into your pocket, “Appreciate this, Mr. George. So much. Truly.”

“Ahh, it’s nothin’. This small town is a close-knit community. We’re all here to help each other when we can.”

. . .

Instead of calling you, Harry texted when he was on his way over.

See you in half an hour. H

You smiled at the thought of finally getting some help in that big lonely house. Wiping the sweat from your forehead you climbed down the step ladder to freshen up a bit before Harry could arrive. You slid on a clean cotton dress, washed your hands and face, and then made some lemonade should he want anything to drink.

When Harry arrived you heard his truck clonking up the dirt driveway before you saw it. He’d been your first visitor so it was the first time you’d had the pleasure of hearing a vehicle driving toward your house (and didn’t it feel so weird to call it your house?). You watched out the window as dust kicked up from his tires. It was a big black truck. A decal on the side that read Styles and Son.

Walking onto your porch you waved to greet him as he stepped out, feet landing on the ground. His attire was simple. Jeans and a white t-shirt with a pocket at the front. Work boots. But what you couldn’t get over as he smiled and raised his big hand to wave back at you was how fit and broad he was. Tanned skin on his arms and tattoos up the length of one of them. Chestnut curls with touches of light brown and maybe blond hidden in the strands. He was tall and he was handsome.

“Y/n?” He smiled as he walked up the steps to your porch with his eyes on you. Green eyes.

“Yes! I’m Y/n,” you reached your hand out to him as he gripped it into his palm to shake.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve always wanted to check out Gayla’s house. Glad I’ve got the opportunity,” he looked down at the boards under his feet, “And first thing is,” he bent down and placed the heel of his palm into the wood, “this porch needs updating in a bad way.” He stood back up, soft green irises on you, “Feel how soft that is when you step over it?” He spoke as he demonstrated, pressing his foot into the floor of the porch.

You nodded, “Oh yeah. I already tore some of the boards out but I knew I couldn’t do all this on my own.”

Harry squinted at you and the way his eyes scraped down over your dress and to your feet then back up to your face had you tingling, “You tore out some boards on your own?” He nodded with an impressed look on his face.

Now you were feeling flustered. The sudden shift in temperature made it feel like your cotton panties were digging into your hips and your thighs too tight.

You laughed and shook your head, “Oh… I mean it wasn’t much. But…” you looked back up at him and watched as a lopsided smile took over his face, complete with a dimple, “You wanna come inside? See the place?”

“Absolutely.”

You pushed the front door in and let Harry pass through into the space. You watched him look all around and then walk toward the big front window and slide his hand over the wood frame, “Beautiful woodwork here,” he looked up toward the ceiling and then along the wall toward the archway into the dining area, “It looks like it’s probably throughout the house. We’ll be sure to keep this original,” he looked at you suddenly, “Unless you wanted to completely change all this. It’s up to you but I would suggest trying to maintain the existing features.”

“I would love to keep it original if possible. So… are you saying you’ll do this for me?”

Harry chuckled and ran his index finger under his nose, “Soon as I saw the place as I drove up the path to get here had my heart set on it. Of course, we’ll need to talk numbers and come to an agreement but I’m ready to start as soon as possible. What’s the electricity situation? Original too?” He looked up at the light sconce on the wall.

“I think it’s all original. Everything. Most likely all needs overhauled to bring it up to code. So… you don’t have other jobs you are committed to right now? Thought you were the only one?”

Harry raised his brows and looked back at you, “Hired a helper a couple weeks back. He can do all the odd jobs for me while I focus on this. Honestly, Y/n,” you scorched at the way he said your name so casually, “There ain’t tons of work around here. I usually have one or two small jobs a day. Garbage disposal repair, sodding a yard, shingle repair… we do bigger jobs too like tree stump removal, burst pipes, and things like that. One-offs usually.”

“Tree stump removal… you do all that?”

He nodded, “Yep. I do it all. Got the equipment from when my father was running the business. My dad and I were the only ones in town to do all this kind of stuff so we learned how to do just about everything.”

You showed Harry around the rest of the house and described what you thought you might want done. But watching Harry slide his hands over your baseboards and knock at the walls as he talked about what he’d do… you smiled and agreed with everything he said.

“I do want the wallpaper out, though. It’s a little too dated for my taste,” you ran your finger over the silk flower design wall covering and Harry put his palm over the wall and nodded, “We could look at other wallpaper if you wanted. Or were you just thinking paint?”

You bit your lip and leaned into the wainscoting, “Maybe a new wallpaper? What do you think is better?”

Harry mimicked your pose, placing his hip on the white wainscoting, and faced you, “There are some really high-quality wallpapers out there. In any pattern you can think of. Can also get them custom-made if you had the money for it. I’d get the wallpaper if I were you.”

You nodded, “I’ll be honest, Harry, my aunt left me a good bit of money and I’d like to restore the place with really nice quality things and finishes. Want it to look as beautiful here as it did the day it was built. I’m not too worried about how much it’ll all cost. Within reason of course.”

Harry pushed himself from the wall and clasped his hands together behind his back, “I’m really sorry for your loss by the way. Was a shock to everyone when we found out she passed.”

You nodded, “Yeah. I always thought she’d live forever. Spent so many summers here with her, climbing trees and dancing… just feels so weird that she’s gone now,” a small smile covered your face, “But also, I’m sorry to hear about your dad too. His recent passing.”

The smile fell from Harry’s face, “Did George tell you he passed?”

“He did. I’m sorry if bringing that up wasn’t–“

“No, it’s fine. I was about to tell you anyway. Hence the name of the business, Styles and Son. I’m the son part of it,” he grinned, “But yeah. He died and I took over the business. It’s been a struggle. I miss him but I think he’d be really pleased that I was getting the chance to fix this old place up.”

You offered Harry some lemonade and you both sat on the back porch together as you discussed what you wanted done first with the house. Of course, Harry already had a solid timeline in mind, he’d start with the electrical wiring and the rotten boards on the porch and make sure everything was up to code and safe before getting to the more superficial parts of the job. The garden and landscaping would come last.

Everything flowed so nicely with Harry. He was easy to talk to and you trusted that he knew what he was doing. And it didn’t hurt that his voice was soothing and deep and slow. You could listen to him talk about solid hardwood versus engineered hardwood all day long if he let you.

“Well, I’ll be heading out now I guess. Be back first thing in the morning and start on this porch.”

You walked him to his big truck and shook his hand again, thanking him for taking the job and feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional at everything.

Overwhelmed because Harry was so genuinely kind and you knew immediately you could trust him completely. Which just added to his charm and sex appeal. You really tried to push down the fact that he was so stunningly attractive because that wasn’t going to do you any good. And even though Mr. George told you he was single, you couldn’t imagine that was true. Someone as yummy-looking and kind-hearted as Harry? There was no way he wasn’t at least seeing someone.

But you were also emotional because you were finally going to get to see your aunt Gayla’s house restored to its original glory. It was going to be a real labor of love but it felt so good to be doing it. You had never felt so sure you were on the right path in life until that day. Until Harry arrived with his big truck and assured you that you’d get everything you wanted and that it would end up being even better than before.

And for the first time since you moved into that old house, you sat down and began to write. You’d gotten nearly ten thousand words written and were awake well into the wee hours of the morning typing away with the sudden inspiration you’d gotten. You fell asleep with your laptop next to you when you couldn’t hold your eyes open any longer.

You were woken to the sound of pounding and clanking and creaking which had you startled as you sat up in your bed and looked around your bedroom. The sun filled the space with light and you picked up your cellphone to note the time and saw a missed call from Harry.

Wrapping your robe around yourself you ran down the stairs all frazzled and rushed and burst onto the front porch, tripping over a stack of fresh boards and landing on your knees and palms like an idiot.

“Hey… hey…” you heard Harry’s deep voice from behind you as he slid his hands under your arms to help you up, “You okay?”

“Oh my god…” you croaked out the first words of the day from your throat, “I just woke up and realized you were here and… Sorry!”

He turned you to face him and looked down over your knees and lifted your palms upward to inspect, “Let’s get you cleaned up. Took quite the spill there. Sorry, I shouldn’t have stacked those boards right there.”

You felt your heart calm as he led you into your kitchen. He was so gentle with you, which for some reason you hadn’t expected. You knew he was kind but this seemed very much outside of the scope of his job description, “No, it’s fine! It’s me. I’d probably trip over the boards no matter where you had them stacked. I’m a bit of a nervous nelly. And when I woke up I just… I was startled. Fell asleep late and didn’t set an alarm…”

Harry grinned at you as you ran your faucet and put your hands under it, “It’s fine. No need to rush or get all riled up. I got here a bit early and when you didn’t answer I just figured I’d start on the porch. Think I’ll replace your doorbell as well. It’s not working either.”

You dried your hands and smiled at Harry, “I’ll get you a key before you leave today. In case I’m not here or I’m sleeping again. Sorry… I just had this burst of inspiration last night and typed until I passed out. It’s…”

“You’re fine,” you watched his eyes drop down to your torso and then bounce back up quickly to your face.

When you looked down at yourself you realized your robe was twisted and while all your bits were covered, they were barely covered.

“Jesus fucking Christ… I’m sorry, Harry. I’m a mess…” you pulled the material into place and adjusted the robe.

Harry put his hands at the tops of your arms, “Hey… you’re fine. Take a breath. It’s a beautiful morning and the birds are singing, and just look at this view…” he motioned toward your window where you could see trees and lush green grass stretch along the front of the house, “Now… Do you have some alcohol to clean up the cuts on your knees?”

You sighed and nodded, “Yeah. I’ll get it. You don’t have to do all this. I promise I’m fine. Just need to kind of wake up I think.”

Harry nodded, “Okay. I’ll get back to work out there. Gonna be some loud hammering and noises for a while.”

You cleaned yourself up and put actual clothes on before making coffee and bringing a hot mug out to Harry on a tray. This time, you carefully placed your steps around the boards and scanned the porch to see open spaces and nails in a tin next to fresh boards.

Harry was crouched along the railing and prying a board from its spot when he looked up at you.

“Coffee? Wasn’t sure if you take it with sugar or cream… Or maybe you just want tea?” You placed the tray down as he stood up.

“That’s really nice of you. Thank you. I would love some coffee. Black is fine.”

He took the mug by its handle and brought it up to his lips to take a sip.

“And if you’re hungry I could make you something?” You watched him gulp down the hot liquid.

Shaking his head he grinned at you, “Maybe lunch in a few hours. I ate breakfast already. But you don’t need to go out of your way to make anything. I can go into town for a sandwich, which is what I usually do.”

“Oh no. I’ll make you something for lunch! I insist! I love the company anyway. That way you can kind of relax instead of driving back and forth just to eat. Unless you want to get away for a bit. I mean…” you started rambling. You couldn’t help yourself. Harry’s biceps were on full display as he lifted the mug up to his mouth again and you could just feel your own mouthwatering at the sight. You hadn’t seen a man so attractive in a long time. All the city guys you dated were nice enough… but then there was Harry. Tall with broad shoulders and lean muscle all over, deep pink lips and light green eyes… and dimples… and he was handy? God, you weren’t sure how long you could go before you started to become obvious about how much you enjoyed letting your irises rove over his frame. That is if it wasn’t already obvious.

He watched you go on and on about lunch and then offer up other suggestions with a small smile on his face until you stopped when you realized you were yammering, “Sorry.”

“You okay?” He grinned. He knew you were fine. But he did wonder if you were flustered because of him or if that was how you just were.

“I’m fine. Sorry. Get kind of long-winded sometimes. I’ll let you get to it. Um… if you do want me to make you lunch just let me know. And uh…” you paused and then realized you were about to start yapping again, “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Y/n,” Harry’s deep voice was soft as he spoke your name and you turned to look back at him, “Take a breath. It’s okay. We’ll have lunch together in a few hours. Yeah?”

You puffed out a breathy laugh and nodded before heading back inside with the tray that had sugar and milk atop.

You hadn’t considered it until then. Until you were placing the small crystal lid back onto the sugar bowl and putting the milk back into the refrigerator that your sudden burst of inspiration for the story you were working on was thanks to your handsome handyman. It also felt really good to have someone else there with you. Not that you didn’t feel safe there alone, but just having another presence near you was comforting.

And when you began to make up a lunch, something you hoped he’d like (you had to stop yourself from asking him if he’d want cucumbers and white cheese on his sandwich and just trust that it would be fine) you couldn’t help but peek out your window at him as he pounded his hammer down and wiped the sweat from his brow. His shirt was a bit damp as the sun was rising in the sky and the temperature with it.

Which then reminded you to plug in a fan so he could cool off while he ate with you. You set up the kitchen table and plugged in a fan to have it on for him as you both ate your sandwiches. As well as iced lemonade and chopped cherry tomatoes with basil and olive oil.

It was noon on the dot when you opened the door and poked your head out, “Lunch is ready if you’re hungry.”

Harry placed his hammer down and pushed himself up to stand as he nodded, “Thank you. Mind if I use the bathroom before?”

“Harry, you can use anything you want in the house. Feel free to come inside when you please. You don’t have to ask.”

“Well, thank you, Y/n. I appreciate it.”

You felt ridiculous as you paced your kitchen in wait for Harry to come in so you two could begin. The silly thoughts you had in your head about him had your heart lobbing around in your chest a bit too fast. You could just imagine (in the deepest little fantasy spot in your brain) that he’d take one bite of your sandwich and be so overcome by you that he’d have the sudden urge to lift you onto the table, push your dress up, and take you right there, knocking the lemonade down and forgetting all about the cherry tomatoes.

“Wow. This looks excellent. And you’re joining me?” He smiled as he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes on the table.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you shrugged as you pulled a chair out for him, just in the path of the fan, “And if it’s okay, though I could have some with you. Keep you company. Unless I’m annoying you…”

Harry laughed and shook his head as he took his seat, “You’re the furthest thing from annoying, Y/n. In fact, I quite like talking to you. Sit,” he gestured at the spot where you’d placed your own plate with the sandwich. “The fan is a nice touch too. See, you’re just about the sweetest person I’ve ever worked for and it’s only been a few hours.”

You felt the skin on your cheeks heat up as you sat down in the wooden chair and looked at Harry. You really really tried not to look at him like that. But you could feel it oozing out of you as you batted your lashes and tilted your head down, your eyes still on him. You couldn’t help it!

And he saw it clear as day too. Grinning at you he took the glass of lemonade and gulped down about half as he watched you blink your eyes and then remove your gaze from his down to your plate.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he said as he placed the glass down and picked up his sandwich.

“You’re welcome, Harry.”

. . .

Harry didn’t take days off. He was at your house at 8 am sharp every morning and every day you were sure to make him a big lunch and chat with him a bit. But every day you fell further and further into a little spiral of want and lust. It was ridiculous but he wasn’t doing anything to dampen the way you felt.

Like after one lunch, he took his thumb and wiped the mustard from the edge of your mouth so nonchalantly you felt your knees give out and he had to help steady you. But you didn’t miss his smirk. Like he knew just what he was doing.

Or the time when you were walking from your bathroom to your kitchen after a shower and he’d gone out to buy supplies so you thought you were alone but instead walked past the huge window in only your underwear and bra as you were talking to yourself. Yapping away about whatever in your panties as you turned to the sink to wash some dishes but then yelped when you saw him standing there looking in, an expression of surprise on his face.

You had never run so fast in your life up to your room to put something on. And you should have known better. What was wrong with you? Of course, you were quite absent-minded at times, but that was something on another level.

But then it happened again that he saw you in only your skivvies as you traipsed to your bathroom and had forgotten that he was rewiring the second-floor hallway lights.

“Hey, sweetheart… just wanted to remind you that I’m here,” his voice startled you and you balked as you apologized and shut the bathroom door with a loud slam.

“Sorry, Harry!” You apologized again with your heart rapidly thudding behind your ribcage.

You could hear his voice through the bathroom door, “Don’t need to apologize. Doesn’t offend me. Just wanted to remind you I was here is all – in case you weren’t keen on me seeing you in your knickers.”

And Harry was like that. So gentle and thoughtful and there was the tiniest bit of flirtatiousness there too. Which really kept you on your toes around him. Made you feel all hot and gooey. Maybe if he didn’t grin at you the way he did or if he didn’t wipe mustard from your lips or call you sweetheart or compliment you as often you wouldn’t feel that tension there all the time.

But he did and so you did.

Which then led to you working up the nerve to start asking him to say for dinner. He’d sit in your kitchen after using your shower to clean up and watch (you insisted he didn’t help) as you made something for the both of you to eat.

At first, he didn’t stay every evening for dinner because he wanted to get home to clean up and you didn’t want to push and make it seem like you were needy for his company.

But soon, after suggesting he just use your shower, it was every night, and he began to bring a change of clothes so he could clean up before eating. And it felt like you were in some kind of bizarre relationship. Or, that’s what you pretended in your mind anyway. And it was fodder for your writing so you played into the fantasy a little bit.

Of course, there were also all the times you caught him with his shirt off. By the time he began working inside the house summer was in full swing and the place had no central air conditioning so it could get rather hot inside.

And it wasn’t just that you caught him with his shirt off… it was that he caught you staring while he was sans shirt, a sheen of sweat on his chest and at the nape of his neck, muscles flexing and tensing as he labored to make your house gorgeous and well-functioning.

Harry Styles was sexy. He was kind. He was charming and funny. He was smart. And you wanted him. Wanted him in a bad way.

And the days and weeks that drew on that feeling and that lust did not falter. No, it only widened and grew strong, steady thick roots into the ground and became fortified and strengthened with every little bit of contact you had with him. You wanted him so badly you could taste it. Feel it. Smell it.

“Let me get it!” He scoffed at you as he pulled the lid from the pot that was boiling over while you were chopping the tomatoes. You told him to stay seated because you wanted him to rest, that you’d get the boiling pot. He’d worked so hard that day (as he always did) and you knew he must be tired. But he dipped the spoon into the bubbling water and turned down the burner to lower the heat for you.

“I can help, Y/n. I know you’re just being sweet cause you think I’m all tuckered but I don’t mind. Really.”

You smiled as you sliced into the tomato, “Okay. I just want to make sure you’re not working extra. You work so hard every day and I feel like this is the least I can do for you.”

Harry pushed a soft laugh out through his nose as he placed the lid back onto the pot, “The least you could do is pay me for my work. And that you already do. This,” he gestured around the kitchen, “Is above and beyond. Not that I’m complaining.”

“Well, I just… I feel like we’re friends now and feels strange to send you home after,” you glanced at him to see that he was leaning his hip into the counter watching you in that way that he often looked at you. The one that made your skin sizzle.

When he didn’t respond you glanced at him again, “There’s a bottle of wine if you want to share? I think it’ll go really nicely with this dish.”

Harry pursed his lips and nodded, “Trying to get me drunk, sweetheart?”

You chuckled in surprise and shook your head, “Of course not!” Placing the knife down you turned to him, “I was only just suggesting it if you want. I mean… you don’t have to. I didn’t think a glass would be all that bad–“

“I’m teasing. It’s okay. I’ll have some wine with you,” he laughed at the way you suddenly bristled, “Where’s the wine opener? I’ll pour us both a glass.”

The wine turned out to be the perfect accompaniment for the pasta dish you’d made. But you knew it would be. In fact, you’d gone into town the night before to the olive oil and wine shop and selected the wine for that exact purpose after asking the owner what she thought. You weren’t sure if he’d like wine or not but you liked wine and it was a really nice bottle. Which you could afford now that you had a bit of money to your name.

And Harry agreed it was good as he poured you both another glass after you’d both finished your plates.

“So what are you writing anyway?” Harry asked as he leaned back in his chair and set his eyes on you.

“It’s a romance. You wouldn’t be into it I’m sure,” you shrugged as you sipped your wine.

“Why are you so sure I wouldn’t be into it? I love romance.”

“Oh. I guess men aren’t usually my target audience or prospective target audience… I haven’t actually published anything. Sorry… I shouldn’t assume I guess.”

“Tell me what it’s about.”

You cleared your throat and shook your head, “Oh… it’s not done. I’m kind of too bashful to talk about it just yet.”

Harry leaned his elbows onto the table and kept his gaze on you, “Oh come on… Tell me. I won’t judge. I want to know what kind of story you’ve been working on. And then I’ll tell you a secret of my own. How’s that sound?”

You sat your glass of wine down and licked your lips as you let your pupils take in his pretty lips, “Uh… fine…” you sighed and smiled. You wouldn’t tell him the whole thing but perhaps you could just make it brief. “It’s about a woman who takes on a new adventure in life and she meets a man unexpectedly and he helps her kind of navigate her new life… uh… like they have this unspoken connection and feel quite comfortable with one another off the bat. And it leads to a whirlwind romance that ends happily ever after.”

Harry tilted his head to the side and stitched his brows together, “Y/n…” Harry spoke your name as if he were about to scold you, “Give me some detail. What kind of new adventure is this woman taking?”

You looked up at the ceiling and felt your neck heat up. If you told him the premise he’d figure out you were basically writing a story that was a fantasy version of what you and Harry were doing.

But you didn’t want to lie and you could just tell him to drop it but you didn’t want to do that either. So you gulped down the saliva in your throat and laughed as you looked at him, “She inherits a gorgeous old house from a family member with all the money she’d need to hire a man to help her restore the place.”

The pleased look on his face had you looking away from him and down at your empty plate in full embarrassment.

“I see. So you’ve had some real-life inspiration since moving in here then.”

You nodded, a small laugh falling from your lips, “Yeah.”

“And this man helping her restore the old house? He’s the one she has her whirlwind, happy-ending romance with?”

You put your hands over your face, “Oh my god. I mean… yes. It’s just inspiration, though… like it wasn’t–“

Your words were cut off when you heard his chair scrape over the wooden floors and felt his hand at your back, “You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s just a story. Wanna hear my secret now? Level out the playing field a bit here.”

You pulled your hands away from your face and looked at him. He was sitting right next to you, so close you could see the pores on his nose as he offered you a dimpled grin. His hand gently rubbed at your back.

“Level out the playing field?”

His soft grin deepened as he slid his pupils down to your lips, “Yeah. You told me something that’s kind of a secret. If you want me to tell you a secret I will… kind of make it even.”

You swallowed with a nod as he moved his eyes over the expanse of your face and it felt like warmth seeping into your skin.

“See… So here’s the thing…” he paused to make sure you were paying attention, “I’ve been working for this insanely sweet-as-pie woman for a couple of months now. Just falling in love with every corner of the house that I touch… getting fed fruit and coffee every morning, sandwiches in the afternoon with lemonade and a fan to help cool me down, and then lately it’s spread into dinner… just me and her eating together in her kitchen, talking about nothing and everything as the sun goes down and then I go home at night alone and find myself unable to stop thinking about her and the way she laughs and the way I catch her staring at me when I’ve sweat through my shirt…”

You were holding your breath as he spoke and it was making your head fuzzy and your heart thud and your skin light up as he slowly worked his hand up to the back of your neck, fingers grazing the skin… it felt like you were watching a movie play out before you. Like it wasn’t real.

“And I think to myself… what if she feels the same way about me that I feel about her? Ya know? I mean I’ve seen the way she looks at me. That can’t be an accident. And she’s even started to ask me to stay even later after dinner to have dessert and even though my stomach is always stuffed full of the food she’s fed me and I couldn’t imagine eating another thing I’m always tempted to stay a little longer with her. Just to see where it goes,” the pad of his finger worked up your neck as you turned your gaze down to your hand on the table, “To find out if her dessert is just as tasty as everything else she’s offered me. And of course, I have no doubt that it would be.”

You stayed quiet. You couldn’t believe he’d just said all that. Like he was reading your story and knew what you wanted to happen next. Slowly you brought your gaze back to his and spoke shakily, “Harry…”

“You want me to stay for dessert tonight, Y/n?” You could feel the brush of his thumb along one side of your throat and the press of the pads of his fingers gently on the other side, palm flat against the back of your neck. And that question. It meant more than what he said and you both knew it.

“Yes. If you want,” you swallowed and kept your eyes on his face as he lowered his gaze to your mouth again. His hand at the back of your neck tensed and you could feel him pulling at you, just the last few inches needed to brush his lips against yours in a tentative move, allowing you to breach the space completely, moving in and pressing your mouth firmly against his.

And it was everything. Warm and soft and wet and then he inhaled sharply and opened his mouth to paint his tongue over your lips and you responded in kind, using your tongue against his and you felt his free hand pull at your hip. You smoothed your hands up his strong arms and to his shoulders and your heart felt full and light all at the same time.

When you felt the fine hairs at the nape of his neck under your fingers he shifted and pulled at you, both hands gripping your hips and bringing you up out of your chair and placing your bottom on the sturdy wood of the kitchen table, the plates pushed to the side and your nearly empty glass of wine wobbled in its spot as he kept his mouth over yours and he fit himself between your legs.

“Always wearing pretty skirts and dresses for me, aren’t you?” His lips traveled down your jaw and pressed over the skin on your pulse point, “Been teasing me this whole time…” slow pecks down to your clavicle and then back up the other side of your neck as he planted his palms flat onto the table next to your thighs, “Just know you wanted me to see you in your panties all those times… acted all innocent like you didn’t know you were giving me a show…”

You gasped when you felt his teeth gently scrap at your jaw before pushing plush pink lips over the same spot, “Harry…” you breathed out his name.

“Mmm… love how you say my name too,” he spoke as he moved his mouth back over yours and it was game over. Teeth and tongues, and wet lips with moans as he slid a thumb under the hem of your dress to glide up your thigh. He pressed himself in further, making you lay back on the table, your saltshaker and napkin holder tipping over as he ran his hands up your sides.

“Is this what you wanted? All this time, Y/n?”

You moaned as he began to pepper his kisses down your neck once again, your body lighting up with every touch and whisper into your skin.

“Yes…”

“Yeah,” he looked up at you with his hands firm around your waist before he moved them down to push at your skirt, shoving the material up your thighs, “And what about this? Is this what you want too?”

You pushed yourself up by your elbows and nodded, “Yeah…”

Harry grinned as his fingers found your panties and he tucked his middle fingers into the band, “Wanna give me my dessert now?”

His light jade eyes were sparkling as he waited for your nod of approval, the small yes you peeped out had him tearing your panties down your legs, left to drape off your left foot as he pushed your thighs apart and moaned, “It’s the only dessert I’ve wanted since you first started offering. Smells so good too,” he dropped his mouth to the inside of your plush thigh and ran his big palms upward on the underside of your thighs to press your legs back and you gurgled a moan as you watched him dip down and tongue at your pussy, his wet muscle slicking upward from your entrance to your clit and then repeated, and repeated, over and over as he kept his eyes on yours until you were so slick he was barely making contact with your skin… your arousal had coated your pussy and his tongue in a thick layer.

“Fuck me… sweetheart… you’re gonna give me a toothache with all this sweet juice…” he spoke mindlessly as he lapped at you. He brought a hand down to your pussy, running his fingers through your crease as he pressed his tongue to your clit and kissed it, bringing it delicately into his mouth with a gentle slurp.

“Ahh! Harry!” You reached down to pull at his hair as your back arched up and your head fell back into the wood.

The moment Harry felt your grip on his hair he spread your pussy with his fingers and drove a digit inside, curling it in and brushing against the spot you loved to focus on when you fingered yourself, making your body shiver.

Your table was rattling from the movements you were making, the lewd act causing the wooden legs to shift and give slightly as Harry ate your pussy and moaned at your taste.

“Gonna let me have some every night now?” His words came out watery, and slurred as he continued working to get you off, “Gonna let me take care of you the way you’ve been taking care of me?”

You cried out in a gurgle when you felt another finger press inside as he flattened his tongue over your pussy, “Yes!”

Harry grinned into your pussy. Seemed all you could say at that point was a combination of yes and Harry. He loved how you were responding to him. Like it was all you ever wanted.

When he felt you roll your hips up and grind into his mouth he pressed your thigh down and dug in harder, flicking his eyes up at you from time to time, watching the way your chest rose and fell heavy, how your lips were dropped wide open with your eyes closed.

“Y’shaking so hard, sweetheart. You can come if you need to,” he slid his fingers into the last knuckle and back out as he spoke, lips grazing your wet clit as he did so, “You’ve been so good to me, you deserve a treat too…”

Your brain was in a fog, a haze that made it hard to hear or make sense of his words as your orgasm tiptoed its way through your tummy and down into your core, slowly sliding its way through your organs until it burst out of you and your limbs stiffened as you pressed Harry’s face into your pussy and moaned his name so loudly Harry figured it was a good thing you didn’t have any neighbors close by to hear what could sound like someone being attacked.

But in a way, you were being attacked. Harry’s lips and his tongue and his fingers ravaged you through your orgasm, never letting up or stopping until you gasped and pushed at him as you sat up with wet lips, burning cheeks, and dark eyes, “Oh god, Harry!”

The dirty smirk on his face was pure sex as he pulled his fingers out of your sticky pussy and slid you from the table, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to your room, his mouth on yours.

You began to squeak in protest as he lifted you and started up the stairs and you were certain it was too much weight or that he’d drop you but he was solid and strong and moved with ease, holding you tight under your bottom with one hand and his other at your mid back until he laid you on your bed with a bounce.

Harry began to pull his jeans down his strong legs and you watched as he undressed. It was the first time you’d seen his bottom half but just as his chest and shoulders and abs did not disappoint, neither did his masculine, well-muscled thighs and buttocks. The man was in incredible shape, thanks to good genes and hard manual labor you assumed.

When Harry peeled his shirt off over his head, the curls were pushed upward and he was left standing in your bedroom looking like a man ready to ransack your body with wild hair, tight boxer briefs hiding an erection that looked quite sizable.

Silently he kneed onto the bed between your legs and pushed your dress out of the way, “Let me see you, sweetheart. Is that okay?”

You helped him bring the dress off over your head and immediately reached up to unpluck your bra, the clasp at the front that once undone had your tits bursting out.

“Holy, fuck…” Harry dove down to your breasts, lapping and squeezing at each one and you placed your fingers back into his hair as if it were their new home. The length was perfect to grip onto.

He pushed himself up as he cupped your tits together and kept his eyes on your flesh and nipples with mouth dropped open, “Goddamn, sweetheart…” He dipped down again, wetting the skin all around your breasts with his lips and tongue until you bucked upward and your wet pussy kissed his belly button.

Popping off from your nipple he looked down at you underneath his large frame and smoothed his hands down your sides and over your tummy then to your hips. He thumbed at your clit and looked up at you, not an ounce of humor on his face, “I can eat your pussy all night. Want my mouth again?” He licked his lips.

“Want to feel it, Harry…” you breathed out.

“Want to feel my mouth again?”

You moaned and slid your palm down his chest and felt the bit of hair on his pecs tickle your skin, “Your cock.”

“Is that right? Sweetheart wants her handyman to stuff her full tonight?” Now you could see the small smirk on his face as he looked at your tits and then back up to your eyes.

“I want you to stuff me full, Harry. I want to feel it.”

Harry wet his lips again as he moaned at your words and tore his boxer briefs down his thighs and to the floor.

He sat back onto his haunches, eyes on yours as he held himself at his base. His thick ruddy tip smooth and ready to pierce into your cunt had you groaning, “Please.”

“You wanna be my girl, Y/n? Be mine? Cause I don’t fuck unless I know I can keep coming back. I don’t do casual, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, “I don’t either. I’ll be yours. Your girl.”

“You sure? You want to date a small-town handyman, make me dinner every night, and get fucked into this soft bed until you’re passed out?”

“Oh my god, Harry,” you moaned and nodded, “Yes. Please…”

Harry scooted in toward you, and his massive cock was just throbbing before your eyes. That thing was going to do some damage to you but you would happily receive it. Take it every night like he said, looked forward to feeling how much he’d fill you up and how deep he’d get, how much it’d ache when he pounded into you.

His hand slid behind your neck, fingers wrapping around the back side as he hovered over you, “Pussy’s so little, sweetheart. Might need to hold on at first okay?”

The dimple popping into his cheek told you he was playing with you. And while, yes, he was quite large, that bulbous tip and thick shaft would definitely be felt entering you, there was no question it’d tuck nicely into your slippery walls.

You gripped his biceps as you kept your eyes focused on his. He glided his fat tip through your pussylips with the slushy wet sound of your arousal coating his cock, drenching his leaking slit until he was sticking the crown at your opening, his lips parted as he pressed into your muscle and penetrated you slowly.

“Mmm… fuck me, sweetheart,” his voice was hiked up a notch in a whine as he clenched his teeth upon entry, “Y’mine now? Yeah?”

You nodded and whimpered, “Harry… oh god I’m yours…”

Harry nodded with you, his eyes focused on your face as he opened you up, and spread you apart inch by inch. When he’d gotten in halfway he reared himself back, that wide tip sliding out of your cunt just before he pressed himself back in, nudging in deeper. The intrusion was all-consuming. Harry’s hard cock was long and thick. But of course, it was. A man like him with a body like that… But it was his demeanor that had tipped you off at the beginning that he had a big dick. That personality that oozed with natural confidence.

“Oh, my fuck!” You wailed as he drove into you again, this time with a bit of force that had his hips grinding into yours.

“Yeah? It’s big in there isn’t it? Need me to be gentle?”

You could just see it in his eyes. He did not want to be gentle. The man above you, fucking into you was holding himself back. He was taking it easy for your sake. But you wanted him to ruin you. Wanted your pussy wrecked by that thick cock, needed to let him have his way with your body so he could get off.

“No… fuck me like you want. Harry…” you whimpered his name as you cupped his jaw, stubble scraping your palm as he slowly thrust into you, “Make me yours. Show me how you do it.” You wanted to feel his strength. Wanted to know what it felt like to have him completely destroy your pussy.

Harry let out a deep groan then hissed as he ground into your cunt, his cock grazing that achy spot deep inside that you knew was gonna be bruised once he was done with you, “Don’t want to hurt your cute little pussy, Y/n. Can already feel I’m in as deep as I can go.”

“Harry, make me yours. Please.”

“Fuck…” he gritted out as he adjusted his knee placement, lifting himself with his thighs and readying his position to rail into you like you wanted. He pulled your hands up and placed your palms onto his lats as he leaned over you, “Hold on here. Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

You gripped your fingers into the muscle of his back and felt him flexing as he drew his long cock back and bucked in with one harsh thrust. The wind nearly knocked from your lungs as he did it again. He was still taking it easy. Long heavy strokes into your guts, hips slapping into yours in thuds until he got into a rhythm and your high-pitched moans told him you were loving it.

Soon your bed was loudly creaking, the mattress springs bouncing heavy and his balls were whacking into your bum. Wet patting of skin colliding and heavy pants filled the room.

“Like this?” He gritted as his pelvis repeatedly smashed into your clit filling your veins with damp mushy heat as your pussy clamped over him.

“Fffffuuu…” you cried out. Not a word but an answer. You did like it. Every time he filled you to the brim with his fat cock and your pussy parted for him, spreading apart to accommodate his hefty girth it brought you closer and closer to the precipice.

Harry choked out a moan when he felt his own orgasm edge toward the brink slowly. The way you gripped around him, the perfect warm and wet hole attached to the sweetest thing he’d ever met made his heart thrash in his chest harshly.

He couldn’t believe that he was getting to fuck you. That you promised to be his. That things had worked out the way they had. Because he’d started falling for you since day one. He had been impressed that you wanted to salvage the old house and to him, that meant you were already special. A city girl with a heart of gold who didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. And when you told him you ripped out some of the rotted boards from the porch on your own his cock twitched in his pants. The image in his mind of you doing that was hot.

And as the days and weeks went on he learned more about you and he became obsessed with making everything in the house just perfect for you. He often daydreamed of living in it with you. Getting to see you every day after work with a kid or two running around. While it was too early to think about all that, he couldn’t help it. Harry was a sincere and deeply emotional man who prized deep connections and love over everything. He’d never been able to do casual.

He was brought back to the moment when your face began to screw up in pleasure and your punched breaths began to grow into loud moans with every snap of his hips.

You, on the other hand, were thinking of nothing but that big cock sliding through your insides and ramming into your depths, your tummy aching at the stretch and the way he filled you so completely. Your brain was empty as he sliced through you, fucking you down into your soft blankets as his chest and arms and shoulders tensed.

“Ooohh, sweetheart… like that yeah? That what you need? Right there?”

Your arousal had dripped from your hole and drenched your ass and the blanket under you, your gushy wetness slopped out with every push of his cock into your pussy.

Harry could feel your thighs quivering and shaking as you started to arch into him, loud bursts of moans belted from your lungs on each plunge.

Harry was losing his mind at the noises you were making and how good you felt squeezing around him, “Gonna have to move myself in here so I can have you like this every day… look at you taking me so well… fucking creaming all over me…” his string of consciousness continued as he railed into you deeply and you felt your insides snap suddenly, your orgasm erasing all working thoughts from your brain.

“Yes! Fuuuuck! Yes! I need you!”

“Need you too, Y/n. I fucking need you baby… come all over me, show me how good that is… fuck… fuck…” Harry clenched his jaw as you squelched around him, your slippery hole clenching so hard you nearly pushed him out but he was stronger as he continued to pound into you, bringing you through your ecstasy until he couldn’t go another moment without coming.

He began unloading into you, heavy, thick pumps of come filled your insides as he coughed out a groan and stilled his hips with your pussy milking him, pussy fluttering and squeezing every drop from his long shaft. You’d both lost your good senses in that moment. No thought about what was responsible or reasonable, it was only about how good it felt to be connected, new lovers enjoying one another and not giving a damn about the consequences.

Harry’s mouth pressed into yours and he moaned sloppily against your wet lips, bodies throbbing and shaking and lungs gasping for air as you wrapped your legs around his waist and hummed in bliss.

Harry’s heart was going wild as he dropped his chest to yours and licked into your mouth, one final push of his cock into your cervix for good measure, pressing his come deeper yet.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out in a mumble as his lips still smeared against yours.

“I know…” he responded with his eyes closed as he continued kissing you.

Your fingers wound into his hair and he rolled you both to your sides, still connecting and simmering and reeling.

“I think now you have to stay,” you parted from the kiss and looked at him with a small smile. Hoping he’d agree to it. You weren’t ready to let him go home yet.

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere. You’ll have to forcibly remove me from you now.”

You giggled and cupped his cheeks, “Good. Means you aren’t gonna be leaving then.”

Harry’s soft smile and his big hands on you felt like home. More than anything had before. The old house was your home, yes, but ever since Harry walked into your life you were a changed woman.

“So you’re mine now? Can I call you my girlfriend?”

You puffed out a laugh through your nose, “Of course. Long as I can call you my boyfriend.”

“Of course. Been dreaming about it since I first met you.”

You licked your lips, “Yeah? Guess we both wasted a lot of time beating around the bush didn’t we?”

Harry shook his head, “Nahh… we didn’t waste time. Every moment spent with you was exactly what was supposed to happen. Got to know you real well. Got to learn all kinds of things about you. I feel like the way it happened wasn’t supposed to happen any other way.”

You nodded and bit your lip. He was probably right. The time you two spent chatting and flirting and getting to know one another slowly made you both open up and feel more comfortable in each other’s presence. And it all led to that very moment right there in your bed.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen any other way.”

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut @elidoho @bananabk9756 @gotdrxnkonu @freedomfireflies @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @lightsoutstyles @certainlysyko

[sparkrls]

girl uncle

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry becomes an uncle and has a bad case of baby fever

Author’s Note: congratulations to Gemma, i’m so happy for her and the entire Styles family. if this sucks, it's because babies scare me and i tried to write a fic about baby fever... not my smartest move

Word Count: 1k

···

“Baby? You okay?” Y/N murmured, brushing the hair out of Harry’s face. His lower lip trembling as he stared at the rose-flushed baby.

Harry shook his head, the first tear trailing down his cheek. Y/N could never stand to see him weep. It made something inside of her shatter as he lost his composure.

Y/N wrapped her arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. He leaned his head against her shoulder, tears trailing down his face and onto her shirt. His eyes never left the baby.

Gemma laid fast asleep in the bed behind them. In a little while, the nurse would come in to check in on the baby and Gemma. But for now, Harry and Y/N were left with a sleeping Gemma and a baby to gaze at.

Harry had been stressed out of his mind when Michal called to tell them Gemma’s water had broken and they were headed to the hospital. He had fussed over every detail, and Y/N had been the one to grab the car keys and usher him out of the house. She knew he wasn’t in any mental state to be driving.

The time in the waiting room had been spent by Y/N helping Michal with all the paperwork and Harry pacing in circles. She’d gotten him a tea and ordered him to sit down. As he sipped on his tea, his face still in an anxious frown, she’d pressed a notebook and pen in his hands. Y/N had cupped his face in her hands and instructed, “Everything on your mind, write it down. All the anxious overthinking- lay it down on the page.”

Harry had done so, filling a worrying amount of pages with all that was on his mind. She had skimmed it and found he kept repeating certain thoughts, a clear sign he was just in a spiral of overthinking.

Y/N sat down next to him and simply hugged him until the tension in his muscles dissipated and he relaxed- not completely, but enough to soothe her worries.

When they’d finally been let into the room to see an exhausted Gemma, grinning Michal and a fussy baby, Harry had been handed the baby to hold. He rocked her lightly in his arms, smiling down at her.

“You’re a girl uncle,” Y/N had said teasingly. Harry grinned nonetheless.

That had led them to this, a day after the currently unnamed baby was born. The sun had long set on the horizon, and dark flooded the streets with lamplights turned on.

“We’re adults now,” Harry whispered lowly, as to not rouse the sleeping figures in the room. He sniffled. “I can still remember being kids and climbing trees. How Gemma cleaned up my knee when I scraped it learning to ride a bike. And look at her now.”

A warmth spread in Y/N’s chest, somewhere between happiness and an indescribable satisfaction at knowing they’d made it this far. And a melancholic feeling thinking about how they used to worry about whether their parents would let them go out to the park with their friends or not. Now, they would soon become the parents themselves.

Harry sighed, and she wiped his tears away from his cheeks. Y/N placed a tender kiss on his forehead and said, “You’re an uncle now.”

Looking up at her as if she’d been the one to freckle the sky with stars, Harry said, “Uncle Harry. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips. “Definitely.”

“Dad would sound even better,” Harry whispered, pressing himself close to her and nuzzling his nose against her neck. “Don’t you agree?”

Eyebrows raised in light surprise, Y/N asked, “You want to…?”

Harry nodded. “Wouldn’t it be nice?” He whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had that soft look in his eye he always got whenever he talked about their future. “Maybe a ring on your finger before… and then a baby in your belly.”

“You’ve got baby fever,” Y/N groaned quietly, turning her head away from him. Her gaze landed on the baby again, wrapped in a light pink blanket. For a moment, she imagined that being her baby. And a rush of affection swelled in her chest, a pinch of fear tingling on her fingertips.

Fuck, maybe she had baby fever as well.

They certainly did look adorable, faces all scrunched up, skin a rosy pink and fingers all chubby.

“Is that a no?” Harry prompted quietly.

Y/N sighed as if she were exhausted by him. They both knew her every word was laced with affection, “How’d you go from crying ‘cause your sister’s a mom now to begging for a baby?”

“Marriage and a baby,” Harry said, matter-of-factly. “Get your facts straight.”

Holding back a laugh, Y/N said, “Begging for marriage and a baby.” She took one good look at the man beside her, with brown curls and green eyes that looked almost a forest green in this light. “I never could say no to you.”

“That’s a yes?” Harry asked hopefully, leaning in close.

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately. "It means be patient. We'll see how things go." She gave him a playful glare. "But we are having a wedding before a baby. Got it, Styles?"

"Got it, baby,” Harry confirmed with a grin. He knew he was going to get what he wanted. Maybe more in the future, he would spend an obscene amount of money on a Tiffany engagement ring and a Vivienne Westwood wedding dress. But for now, those plans were stowed away in Harry’s mind. They would come to fruition eventually. It was just a matter of time.

[ifancyharry]

Ever since New York

what it is: in which YN is Harry Styles's personal assistant, but maybe she should quit her job?

September.

Harry was running late. He knew he was running late because he didn’t even have the time to check on his phone how much late he was running. He hated being late. It wasn’t really in his character. In his manners. It’s not because he didn’t like people waiting on him, he loves being the center of attention; he loves having all eyes on him when he enters a room.

He just didn’t like being late because of the wasted time. Wasted time he took off work. And as of right now, work was pretty much his life. His purpose. 

So being late, was kind of a big deal to him.

Y/N, on the other hand, was used to being late. And she, too, hated it. She hated the attention it came with it. But it was just in her nature, not because she wanted it, but because it happened to her. Like this morning. Her go-to local Starbucks was swamped with people, and she really wanted a pumpkin spice latte, since it was almost the beginning of fall and she still hadn’t had one. 

So, it’s not like she could skip the coffee run. But said coffee run took longer than expected and made her late to her job interview. On top of that, once she exited the cafe, winning cup of coffee slightly burning her hand, it started raining, and of course she hadn’t bought her umbrella, because who brings an umbrella to a job interview?, and plus she really couldn’t be bothered to carry the weight of said object with her all around New York.

So, when she enters the Madison Square Garden Arena, she’s soaked. She almost can hear the squishy sound her Converse make as she walks, her socks feeling rather scratchy against her skin.

She jogs a little towards the backstage area, trying to recall what was said on the email that was sent to her with all the interview details. She’s breathing heavily through her nose, not really used to all the running she had to endure, and she feels hot. She’s positive the heater is on and the sudden contrast with the chilly September air makes her coat feel too warm and her jeans too tight.

She takes a moment to stop herself, trying to calm her heart and breathing down as she takes small sips of her drink. She’s already late, soaked, and sweaty, she might as well enjoy her well awaited drink in peace. She’s sure she’s not going to get the job, anyway. Leave it to her to think she’d fail before even trying.

Harry Styles personal assistant? Yes, she’s known to be a dreamer, but not to that extent. When her friend Anna had told her that her boyfriend had a friend that went to college with Jeff Azoff (she didn’t even know that said Jeff went to college), that he was looking for trustworthy people who could be fit for the job and that he had recommended YN, she thought Anna was pulling a sad excuse of a prank on her. Little did she know, about ten days later, she’d gotten an email from Jeff himself where he asked her if she was down for a little get-to-know-me interview.

Anna knew how much YN needed the job.Young, jobless, and living in New York didn’t really go together too well, and she knew that YN wanted to save as much money as possible to fulfill her life’s dream of studying art in Florence, so she pressured her friend to at least go to the interview. So that’s how she got herself in this situation, sipping her coffee while she regained her breath.

She’s so lost in her own train of thoughts that she doesn’t even realize she stopped in the middle of a hallway. She’s reading a flyer on the wall absentmindedly when she’s hit by a big, sturdy object that makes her loose her balance. She tries to grip her hands onto something to gain some kind of balance, but that only results in her coffee exploding from its own paper cup that she squeezed too hard, the cap flying off and falling on the ground.

“Fuck!” She exclaims as her bum hits the floor with a loud thump. She can feel the coffee on her coat and all over her hands as she raises her eyes from her pumpkin scented, soaked coat and lays her sight on what she thought was an object, but was, actually, a person. Her employer, more like. If she wasn’t convinced enough that she wasn’t going to get the job, she’s sure as hell now. 

“What the fuck!” Harry, who had been running really fast to try and get on time to this stupid interview he had to endure, really hadn’t taken in consideration that someone could be standing in the middle of the hallway he was running down on. 

So, he really thought it was safe to run and check his phone at the same time; big mistake.

It’s not like he was checking his phone for his own personal business, he was just texting Jeff that he was on his way.

“Who stands in the middle of a fucking hallway!” He shouts, but he isn’t even looking at her as he speaks. He’s looking at his shirt, that now has a big, beige colored, stain on it. 

He grips the hem of the shirt with his hands and brings the stained part to his nose, which he scrunches immediately in disgust: “is this regular milk? God, it’s making me sick”.

YN really couldn’t get anything out of her mouth as she slowly gets up from her position on the floor and raises to her feet. She knows she’s supposed to say something, maybe apologize, but it suddenly feels like she doesn’t know how to talk anymore. She’s afraid, if she speaks, she’d blabber something incoherent and make a fool out of herself. Not that she didn’t already.

Plus,  if she’s really being honest, he kind of sounds like an asshole, so she’s not particularly keen on begging for his forgiveness.

“If you were walking like a normal person, this wouldn’t have happened!” She murmurs, but he’s already too far out of reach to hear, otherwise she’s sure he would’ve said something else. She heavily sighs as she walks behind him, careful to leave a big amount of space between them so it doesn’t look like she’s following him.

When she enters the room, after knocking gently on the door, he’s already sat on the chair next to Jeff, a bunch of papers scattered on the desk in front of them. 

She clears her throat a little and Jeff raises his eyes to her, giving her a small smile and gesturing to the chair in front of them. 

Harry, arm bent at the elbow, one hand under the table and the other holding his phone, doesn’t bother to look at who came in until he’s finished reading his emails. He wouldn’t have to read his emails if he hadn’t wasted his time by being late, and mostly by being tackled by a wet puppy looking girl and her stupid pumpkin spice latte. The said pumpkin spice latte that is all over his designer shirt.

When he finally raises his glance, he’s met with a pair of big, wide eyes that remind him of those of a scared deer caught in headlights, and there’s no hint of a joke in his tone as he says: “fuck no.”

...

YN wonders whether she should quit.

It’s not her fault, really, and it’s not like she isn’t trying. She thinks she’s doing a fairly good job.

She’s trying really hard to make up for the coffee incident, and she begged Harry to tell her where he got his shirt so she could at least repurchase it for him, but once he’d told her it was Gucci, she realized it cost more than her rent so she let it go… trying the best she could to watch where she was going as to not repeat the accident again.

Harry is… well, he’s kind of difficult to work with.

She doesn’t know whether it’s because of the coffee incident or because he just doesn’t like her, but he’s really stand-offish.

He doesn’t talk much to her — only when the work demands it, and at first it was fine, YN understood why he’d act like that, but now it’s just getting kind of frustrating, especially because he’s making her job ten times harder than it already is.

She’s determined to show him that just because they started off on the wrong foot, she’s not just some clumsy little girl that had to have friends in the right places to get a job!

“Harry?” She trails off, peeking her head inside his dressing room.

He’s sitting on the couch, his back bent down and his hands fiddling with his shoe laces.

YN notices he’s dressed in his workout clothes (a pair of Nike shorts and a black tee), and she wonders whether he’s going to the gym? Maybe back at the hotel? It would be rather bothersome to go all the way back but she doesn’t say anything since it’s not her place.

When he hears her he raises his head to look at her, his brows hiking up high on his forehead. YN wonders why he’s even surprised to see her… she’s been on his ass for a month straight now, never really leaving his side unless when necessary.

“Hey” he greets her, nodding his head towards her.

“I finished everything you asked me t’do” she smiles, and if she wasn’t sure he’d find a way to piss her off, she would’ve felt at least somewhat triumphant. But she doesn’t.

Because she knows Harry doesn’t like her, so no matter what she does, it will never be good enough to redeem herself.

“Everything, really?” He asks surprised, “hav’you folded all the merch like I asked?” When YN nods he goes on, “ironed my outfit?” She nods once again, “and ‘s my schedule ready for tomorrow?”

“Yes.” She nods swiftly, “I even color coded it” she grins.

He seems to think a bit about his next words, and then, “okay, then. Help me work out, will ya?” he says, refraining himself from smiling a mischievous smile at the sound of her groan.

He’s sure it wasn’t intentional, and she feels extremely embarrassed and hopes he hasn’t noticed or at least won’t call her out on it.

“Let’s go, YN, I don’t have all day” he chuckles darkly, patting her on the cheek as he walks past her.

YN knows she should definitely quit.

...

“What the hell is this! I thought ye said it was all done?”

YN really feels like she could cry. She’s 22 years old and she’s on the verge of crying on her job. A job she begged God to get, a job that’s fundamental to get her in the art school she’s always dreamed of. 

Things haven’t been easy. 

Harry has been a dick to her every day and there’s only so much one can take. 

He’s mean, rude, and always cold. He never smiles even when she brings him coffee (black with no dairy milk because it nauseates him), he never praises her (not even when she color codes his google calendar), and every time she enters a room he hushes as if he’s telling this great secret she’s not supposed to hear. 

Today has been a long day. 

She’d woken up at 5 am to grab him breakfast (not that he demanded it, but she felt as if she needed to in order for them to start the day on a good note — it hasn’t worked, it seems) and after that, she’d watched him workout at the gym in the hotel, the stuffy room nauseating her to the point where she had to beg him to turn the AC on to let the air change. 

After his workout, she’d made her way to the venue. 

He’s playing at Madison Square Garden tonight, and even if it’s not his first time, the tension could be felt in the air and in the way he huffed and puffed at everything she did. 

It’s her job to take care of the merch stand inside the arena, no matter what city they are in, she has to fold the merch and make the stand presentable and organized, so when the staff comes in before the show everything is neat and clean. 

She’s been doing this for a month now so she knows what Harry likes and how he demands it to be cleaned, and until now nothing about her work had disappointed him. So why is he acting like she’s this major screw up that can’t fold clothes?

It’s not the fact that he’s doubting her that hurts her, it’s the fact that he’s doubting her honesty. 

It was all finished. She had folded all the merch like he asked and the stand was in perfectly good tidiness when she left it; sadly, that’s not how Harry had found it, much later and much closer to the show. 

Maybe his pre show jitters made him a little more on edge, because the way he’s stomping his feet and pointing at the merch is making her feel really guilty for not doing her job correctly. Even if it wasn’t her fault, she should’ve checked before telling him she was all done!

“Harry,” she trails off, and she feels pathetic as she hears her voice come out all watery, “I swear, i did like you asked. Why would I lie!” 

She’s almost begging and pleading him, her eyes stinging with the devious tears she’s trying really hard not to let fall. 

“I don’t know why. But why is the stand in this mess? You know this can’t happen before a show, YN!” He reprimands her sternly. 

YN feels like she’s a bad student getting yelled at by her teacher, and she gulps before saying “I know, I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry doesn’t cut it now! Tidy here and then sod off!” 

She nods her head quickly and hurries to get back behind the stand, folding the clothes as fast as she can to fix the mess quickly. She hears him walk away with a grunt, and once he’s out of her line of sight she feels the warm tears start falling from her eyes. 

Finally. 

She chokes down a sob as she keeps tidying up, wondering what the hell happened to the very organized stand she’d left. 

Once she’s done, she double checks everything to make sure (just in case) and then she climbs over the counter to get out. She quickly makes her way to the dressing room as she hears the buzzing of the fans standing outside the venue, waiting trepidating for the gates to open, and she’s thankful she’d been fast, otherwise Harry would’ve fired her on the spot. 

She gathers her work bag and tosses all her belongings inside, sneaking out of the door when she realizes Harry is inside the bathroom showering. 

She doesn’t bother to call a Uber. She chooses to walk, hoping that the fresh air could soothe the headache that crying had left her with. 

It’s a little bit chilly, but she welcomes the cold October weather with contentment, finally free of the heat weave that had populated her summer days. She wishes she could enjoy it more, and if it wasn’t for her mood, maybe she would’ve grabbed a little drink and a sweet treat on her way back. But there wasn’t anything sweet about the way Harry had treated her, so she walks sulkily back to the hotel, ready to pack her bags and leave. She’s decided. She doesn’t want to be his assistant for not even another day. 

It had been a long day. 

…

it’s past 11pm when Harry crosses the threshold of his hotel room, immediately tossing his sweaty clothes on the chair next to the small desk. His room is nice, big but not uncomfortably large to the point of making him feel lonely, and his bed is soft just the way he likes it, and he can’t wait to shower and get under the covers, but… there’s something he needs to do first. 

So, he quickly showers and changes into way more comfortable clothes, a pair of black sweats and a grey treat people with kindness hoodie, slipping his vans on and walking immediately out of the door. 

He’d like to say the uneasiness he feels in his belly is hunger (he had only soup for dinner), but it’s definitely not. He’s nervous. And he feels like a dick. And he doesn’t really know what to say to YN to make it up to her. 

Should he say he was just tense because of the show? In his mind he knows that wouldn’t be too believable, because he’s been doing shows for most of his life, and if he acted the way he did before any of them, he probably wouldn’t have many friends. 

As he’s searching for things to say, he hasn’t even realized he ended up in front of her door, the light beige wood dooming on him and almost making fun of him. 

He closes his hand into a fist and knocks on the door, the pit of his stomach prickling. 

YN opens the door almost immediately, and he wonders whether she was waiting for him. 

He knows she wasn’t as soon as he sees her face fall once her eyes land on him. 

She actually looks pretty cute, all snuggly and sleepy dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and sleep shorts, but when she looks up at him he notices her eyes are a faint red color, and his heart tugs in his chest when he realizes she had been crying. 

It was never his intention to make her cry, and he really does feel bad. 

“What?” She asks dismissively, her body still shielding the room from his view. 

“Know ‘s late but… Can I come in?” He asks wryly, his breath coming out in puffs out of his nose as if he had been running. 

“I don’t know” she ponders. 

“Please, YN” 

She takes a moment to reflect and then opens her door wider (he’s technically still her boss), turning to the side to let him in. 

She closes the door behind him and waits for him to talk with her arms crossed against her chest. He doesn’t really know where to start, whether he should address the fact that she’s been crying or how he treated her, so he settles on “how are you?” And he feels stupid as soon as the words leave his mouth. She sniffles before shrugging. 

“Sorry, that was stupid” he pinches the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. 

YN doesn’t know what happens next. 

She’s probably just tired, and maybe really hurt by how Harry treated her so she… she starts crying. 

She feels her eyes fill with tears, stinging her water line. And it’s really embarrassing but she really doesn’t care. She figures he’s going to fire her anyway so she might as well let it all out. 

She chokes down a sob, turning her head to the side to be as subtle as possible, but he notices straight away, walking quickly towards her. 

“YN please don’t cry” he pleas, stretching a hand out to her to squeeze her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry” she sobs, hiding her face and her tears behind her hands, pressing the tip of her fingers to her eyelids. 

Harry really doesn’t know what to do. He thinks of himself as a good person and a good friend but this is different. He’s supposed to be her boss. But, he realizes, he’s also the reason she’s crying, and Harry is everything but cruel, so he tugs her by the shoulder into his chest, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his hand caressing her back soothingly. 

She sobs into his chest, and “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened with that stand. I did everything like you asked”. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay” he comforts. 

To really tell the truth, Harry had forgotten all about the clothes. Yes, he had been pissed about the conditions he found the merch stand in, but she had tided up quickly, so in his mind everything was forgiven. He hadn’t really realized how stern he had come off to her. 

“YN I’m not mad about the merch stand. I’m so sorry I was so rude” 

“No,” she’s quick to object, “I get it, you want everything to be perfect. Trust me I know! But I’m trying my best to make everything perfect like you want” she sniffles, pulling her face away from his chest. 

She dries her face with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, sighing heavily. 

“You’re doing a great—“ he starts, but she interrupts him immediately, “I don’t know how to work with you if you’re like this. You’re probably going to fire me for saying this but I can’t stand this anymore” she shakes her head to reinforce her words. 

“Please don’t say that! I don’t want to fire you! I think you’re doin’ a really good job” 

“Really?” She asks surprised, he’s never really told her that. 

“Yes, of course! I’m so sorry I’ve been a dick to you, for this past month. I… I’ve got some trust issues, ya know? and It takes me a while to get accustomed to new people but… I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. It’s not your fault” 

“I thought you kind of hated me” she admits. 

“I could never,” he shakes his head, “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way” 

“Yeah” she sniffles, “you really were a dick” she chuckles once she sees the surprised look on his face. “Plus I’m the only one who knows how to make your little soup” she adds. 

“Oh, you’re right” he agrees, “I could never fire you, then. You’re trapped” 

“Ah! You’re trapped” she giggles, the tears starting to dry on her face and a bit of color returning to her cheeks. 

“But… really, I’m so sorry. I promise it won’t happen again” he says again, looking directly in her eyes to make sure she understands he’s serious.

“Okay” she says softy, sniffling.

“Now” he trails off, “I’m really hungry. Should we go get something to eat?” 

October

“Halloween is not fun.” Harry says, crossing his arms on his chest like a petulant child. 

YN rolls her eyes for what seems like the millionth time, a groan escaping from her parted lips: “but it is!!” She says again. 

The discussion had been opened by Harry himself, claiming he didn’t understand all the excitement YN had claimed to be feeling about Halloween. 

It’s not like he doesn’t like Halloween, he just doesn’t like… scary stuff. 

He hates horror movies and he hates everything paranormal — sure, he loves Twilight (he’s watched it twice already since fall started) but that movie according to him is on a whole other level, and it can’t be described as scary as much as it is angst-y. 

So, when he heard YN all giddy and giggly about this god awful day, he couldn’t just not say what he really thinks of it. Of course she’d love Halloween, Harry thinks. 

“I think you just never truly had the whole Halloween experience” she shrugs from her position on the couch. 

“Trust me,” he says seriously, “I did. Jeff forced me to watch all the Saw movies… it was awful. Couldn’t sleep properly until Christmas” 

YN has to refrain herself from laughing. 

“That’s not what I mean! Watching scary movies is like… the last thing on the list of fun things to do for Halloween” 

“Yeah?” He challenges, turning around in his turning chair to face her, his skin dewy with the moisturizer he’d been massaging on his face. 

“Yes! My favorite is pumpkin painting” she beams excitedly. 

“Pumpkin painting? You have to have made that up” he furrows his brows. 

“What! No! It’s been a thing for… Ugh I don’t know but it’s really fun and I always do it. Come see!” She pats the couch next to her and grabs her phone from the pocket of her hoodie, opening her camera roll and scrolling with her finger until she reaches last year. 

He rolls his eyes at her, getting up from the chair nonetheless. 

He doesn’t sit next to her, instead he towers over her and lowers his head to look at the screen of her phone, his shin touching her knees “ye have a lot of pictures on that damn phone”. 

“Shh!! Here!” She opens the pic and shows it to him: a big pumpkin rests on what seems like a kitchen counter, its previous orange skin painted the brightest shade of pink, with some white splotches of paint that Harry thinks could be little ghosts by their pair of eyes made with two black dots. 

“Wow… that clearly is something…” 

“okay! — she sighs, locking her phone — I didn’t say I was good at it. ‘S just fun an’ I always do it with me mum!” She lifts her head and their eyes lock, his are a bright emerald green today, and she can see herself reflected in them, clearly, and she wonders for a moment how he sees her, what he thinks of her. It lasts only a moment, though, because he averts his gaze quickly, and just as quickly he straightens his posture, towering over her once again. 

“‘S a cute idea” he agrees, taking a step back to put some distance between them. 

YN nods in agreement, picking up her laptop to get back to work immediately. 

Everything is green. 

…

Harry is hiding something. 

He’s been giddy all day and YN noticed first thing in the morning, when she happened to toe his shoe off when he was walking in front of her and he didn’t say anything (it’s the only thing that drives him mad. Like… really mad. He once snapped at her in front of everyone because she kept doing it — accidentally of course). Now, this is not to say Harry can’t have a good day. Since that night in her hotel room, things have been really good between them, and even if their relationship is strictly professional, YN wonders whether a friendship could blossom between them. 

But, she’s also gotten to know him rather well in the two months she’s been working for him, and she knows when he’s hiding something. 

It all started yesterday, when he pretended he had to run some errands alone, and demanded YN stayed at the hotel “to check no one broke into his room” which is a really fucking stupid excuse. When he got back to his room it was late in the night and YN was snacking on some chips, all snuggled up and cozy in his bed, on the verge of falling asleep. 

Nothing seemed different about him since the last time she saw him, and she wondered for a brief minute whether he went out to meet with someone. Having a personal assistant be with you 24/7 can be really invalidating to any romantic relationship someone could want to establish. 

If the only way harry could get a significant other (or even only a sneaky link, YN isn’t one to judge) was to hide from her and demanded her to stay back, it was really pathetic on her part. She pretends like the thought of Harry with someone else doesn’t irritates her. (She’s been stuck all evening in his hotel room while he went out and about!!) 

“Whatcha doin’ in my bed, pet?” He teases once he enters the room, toeing his shoes off and leaving them by the door.

“Your bed is way comfier than mine” she grins, squeezing the comforter closer to her body. 

“I bet” he chuckles. 

“Yeah. But I’m the one working all day so I should get the comfier bed” she shrugs.

“You’re working?” He says, feigning shock as he brings a hand to his chest, “I thought you were my friend willingly!”

“Oh fuck” she sighs, “Jeff told me not to tell you… I must have forgotten” 

“You really are a menace” he chuckles and she giggles, making room for him as he plops down next to her.

“What are ye watchin’?” 

“Just an old episode of How to get away with murder” she says, pressing the “ok” button on the remote to show him the title.

“Never heard of tha’” he furrows his brows, repositioning himself so his legs are stretched out in front of him. 

“You’ve never… what?! That’s crazy! This is probably the best tv show since Grey’s Anatomy went down hill!” 

“Is it scary?” He asks, his brows furrowing on his forehead.

“No, not in that sense at least”

“Okay, then.” He gestures to the remote, “let’s watch it.”

She grins at him and nods, selecting the first episode from the menu. She presses play and when the show starts running, she grabs the chips she was previously nibbling on, putting them between their bodies and telling him that if he wants some to just take them. 

The light from the tv illuminates the otherwise dark room, and YN has to refrain herself from turning her head to look at his profile. 

She smiles Every time he gasps when something unexpected happens, and when the first episode ends, he begs her to put the second straight away. She does, and she listens to his calm breaths that almost lull her to sleep. The bed is comfortable and his warmth from beside her makes her feel safe and soft, and YN thinks it’s really nice he’s doing this with her. She doesn’t stop to wonder what it means. 

…

It’s only the next day that YN gets to finally find out what Harry has been hiding. 

Turns out, he actually wasn’t sneaking out to meet someone behind her back! 

That morning Harry had knocked loudly on her door, tantalizingly sing-songing her name. When she had opened the door, still wearing her pjs and her hair all messy, she had furrowed her brows deeply on her forehead: “Harry!” She had reprimanded him, “it’s 7 in the morning!” 

“Shh, lemme come in” he begged, jumping on his place excitedly. 

He’s wearing his workout clothes and YN knows from his schedule that he has an appointment with his personal trainer at 7.30.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Tonight, after the show, don’t make any plans. I need you for something very serious and very important.” 

And YN would really like to tell him that it’s not like she’d ever make any plans that didn’t revolve around him, but she nods nonetheless, still a bit startled from his irruption in her room that early in the morning. 

That’s how they ended up here, on the floor of his hotel room, probably more than thirty tubes of paint splattered messily in front of them, and two giant pumpkins resting between their legs.

“It’s officially a week before Halloween!” Harry had said, taking the pumpkin out of the bag and showing it to her triumphantly. 

YN had gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth shockingly. Never in a million years would she have thought that was what he planned to do. 

She feels warm inside, like a light has been switched up and is warming all her limbs, her chest, her belly. She doesn’t know if he realizes how much this means to her. 

She carefully takes the pumpkin he’s handing to her and sits cross legged on the floor. He sits down next to her, and their knees are brushing with every movement one of them makes. 

“Pass me the remote, please?” He asks.

She nods and grabs it from the bed behind her, handing it to him. 

“I really need to find out who killed her” he says seriously, turning the tv on. “Is it Sam?”

YN chuckles sitting next to him, shaking her head as she bends her back down to grab a paint brush.

“I’m not tellin’ you! That takes away all the fun” 

“I don’t care, YN. I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t tell me!”

“You’re so dramatic” she giggles.

She hands him a brush too and he thanks her with a mischievous grin, “if I end up dying from exhaustion it’s on you!” 

“Shhh, ‘s startin’” she gestures to the tv and they both turn their head to it.

YN grabs a tube of red paint and opens it, squirting a small pump on the plate Harry had gotten her.

“What are ya making?” He asks her after a while.

“I don’t know” she shrugs, “I was thinking something simple like… red hearts”

“Tha’s cute” he agrees, “should I make it How to get away with murder themed?”

YN starts giggling, pushing his shoulder with hers, “that would be cute I guess”

“I’m just kidding. Although I think I could totally rock that”

“Yeah, you would” she agrees.

Harry ends up making it Mickey Mouse themed, drawing two big red ears a pair of big black eyes. He even helps YN with hers (she settled on something more minimalistic) which is ironic because even though she’s the one that loves art, she’s not really good at it.

Harry even snapped a few pictures to send to his mum, one with YN too, “wait, stay right there. Show the pumpkins!!”

“Harry the paint is still fresh I can’t — ugh fine!” She says lifting her pumpkin by the stem. 

He leans in next to her, their temples almost touching, and Harry snaps the picture, a warm smile on his face, dimples showing and all. “Mum’s gonna love this.”

They watch a couple more episodes of this tv show Harry has gotten obsessed with, and once the clock strikes midnight YN is so exhausted Harry has to finish her pumpkin for her. 

Her eyes are aching and she brings her fingers to press on them, hoping to relieve some of the burning. 

“Everything all right?” He asks turning his head to look at her.

“Yes” she nods, “just forgot my glasses and the tv is hurting my eyes”

“Wait” he tells her, standing up on his feet quickly. He heads over to his bedside table and opens the drawer, rummaging through all the stuff he keeps inside it.

He sits back down after a minute, closer than he was before, and he shows her a pair of glasses, “here”.

She looks at him surprised, and “thank you” she says, grabbing them from his hand and sliding them on.

The glasses are comfortable, with a kind of thick frame, and she understands immediately they are a much better quality than hers.

She’s surprised she can see clearly with them, and she enjoys the much needed rest the glasses provide. She leans her head on the back of the bed behind her and sighs contentedly.

“Better?” He asks.

“Much better.” 

“I didn’t know you wore glasses” he says after a while, his gaze still on the tv, “never seen you wear ‘em”

“Yeah” she agrees, embarrassed, “‘s just… don’t really like the way I look in them. Plus it’s not like I’m completely blind!” She hurries to add “they just get really tired and… yeah”

He turns his head to look at her, his brows furrowed on his forehead and his eyes scrutinizing her face.

She feels embarrassed under his gaze and she squirms imperceptibly in her spot. 

“You look proper cute, actually” he says with a swift nod as to reinforce his words. 

She blushes and prays that he doesn’t notice, mumbling a ‘thank you’ and quickly averting her gaze back to the tv.

She feels once again that warm feeling inside her, but this time it’s all over her body and it’s kind of overwhelming. 

She debates whether she should leave or stay, but Harry’s presence is so comforting beside her, and it’s not like his comment has to mean anything. 

It’s just a compliment. 

Like a friend would to another. Right? 

…

It’s not easy to avoid your boss. 

Harry is everywhere, and it’s not like YN wants to avoid him, it’s just inevitable since she realized she actually has a crush on him. 

On the span of these three days YN tried to tell herself it wasn’t that big of a deal; Harry is handsome, he almost resembles an angel, and he’s funny, and since he’s warmed up to her she realized he’s also nice, and caring, and soft. His smile is bright as the sun. His eyes are a peculiar shade of green she has never seen before and she noticed some nights they turn almost blue and she really would like to ask him why but she figures that’s way overstepping her boundary so she just keeps quiet every time she notices it.

And he’s many things all together. 

And maybe if she avoids him this feeling will go away and everything will go back to normal sooner than later. 

On the fourth day, he catches her on her way back to his dressing room and she almost has an heart attack. She had been so careful up to that point!!! 

She was sure he was still in the shower, and she needed to grab her sweatshirt from the dressing room since it was starting to get chilly, but once she opened the door, there he was, sitting on the couch in only a towel and a sweatshirt. Her sweatshirt. She feels like she could combust any second.

“YN! Hey!” He cheerfully greets her once he notices her, locking his phone and leaving it next to him on the couch.

“Hi, H” she replies “just needed to grab my… sweatshirt” she clears her throat embarrassed, pointing towards his torso.

He looks down to himself and then his eyes widen in surprise, “this one’s yours? I’m so sorry pet, thought ‘t was mine!” 

“Tha’s fine” she shrugs, trying not to dwell too much on the fact that he called her a pet name.

“You wan’ it back?” He asks, grinning.

“No, no that’s fine, I’ll find something else” but before she can even answer he’s already getting up, slipping out of the sweatshirt. He walks towards her and hands it to her, “hav’to get ready soon anyway”.

She nods and as he walks to his clothing rack where his outfit is already displayed, and YN lets her eyes linger for a brief moment on his back, his skin is already moisturized and YN wonders if it feels as soft as it looks, his little moles and freckles look like little constellations on the skin of his back, like the Gods blew stars onto it when they created him, and the color of his skin is almost lunar-like, despite how much sun he gets.

“Feel like I haven’t seen ya in ages” he interrupts the silence after a while, and YN watches as he picks up his tank top from one of the hangers and slips it onto his head.

She nods when he turns to her, the tank top is white and she can see the faint ink of his tattoos, “had so much work to do” she sighs.

“Are you sayin’ I’m overworking you?” He chuckles, and she’s quick to say: “no! No! Just… you know with Harryween coming up there’s so much stuff to do”

“Yeah” he agrees, “maybe tonight we can watch a couple of episodes…?” He questions tentatively. 

YN would really like to say yes. She really would. 

“I’m really tired, Harry…” she trails off, “maybe another night?”

“Yeah of course” he shrugs.

He leans down to slip on his leather trousers, tossing the towel on the couch next to him.

“But you can obviously go on though!! I already know what happened and…”

“What? No! I don’t want to watch it without you, that’s our thing.” He says, shaking his head and furrowing his brows, “‘s okay, I can wait a couple days. Even though I hav’to tell ya… i think I may be in withdrawal… i have been tempted to look up spoilers online”

She giggles at his playfulness, “Harry! I told you not to do that!”

“That’s why I didn’t! But eventually I have to know, I have a couple of ideas on who did it though”

“I’m not saying anything”

“Fine” he groans jokingly, “but you have to admit I deserve an award for putting up with all your torture”

“You’re so dramatic!” She laughs through her teeth.

“Yeah, yeah. Actually!” He starts, and he smiles a malicious smile YN is afraid to know what it means, “everything would be forgiven if you came shopping with me tomorrow”

“Harry! I have so much stuff to do! I can’t just ditch everything to go shopping with you”

“Please!!” He pleas almost like a petulant child, “I don’t want to go alone! ’s boring!”

“Jeff gave me so much stuff… you know how he gets when I don’t get things done” she sighs. She’s still holding the sweatshirt he gave (back) to her, and she squeezes it against her chest.

“Screw Jeff” Harry shrugs, passing a hand through his hair to comb it.

“He’s literally my boss”

“No” he’s quick to say, walking towards her and stopping when he’s in front of her, crossing his arms on his chest “Jeff is your employer. I’m your boss” he chuckles darkly, poking her in the stomach playfully.

“Uggh fine! I’ll come” she sighs, finally giving in to his demand. “But you’re buyin’ me coffee tomorrow”

“Deal” he nods his head swiftly.

She rolls her eyes and gives him a little shove on the shoulder, “see ya after the show! Good luck”

“Thank you pet” he says smiling at her softly.

She gives a small smile back and turns to walk out the door.

Once she’s out, the cold air of the AC hits her, and she’s quick to slip over her head the sweatshirt she actually came to get in the first place.

It’s still warm and his sweet musky scent lingers on it. She buries her nose into it and walks to find Jeff, telling him the new plans for the next day.

…

“I need you to do my makeup”

It’s the 31st of October, just a couple of hours before Harryween, and Harry still isn’t dressed in his Dorothy costume. 

His makeup artist had texted him that she wouldn’t be available to work on Halloween (she has young children and couldn’t miss a chance to spend the holiday with them!), but Harry was so busy he hadn’t paid too much mind to it. He knew if it got to the point where no one else was available, he could do it himself. It’s just makeup, it’s not supposed to be hard.

Well, turns out, it is hard. 

So, YN was really his last hope. 

That’s why he knocked loudly on her hotel door, impatiently waiting for her to open it. 

He heard her groan and then the sound of feet walking quickly towards him. 

“What!” She says before even checking who it was.

“I need you to do my makeup”.

That’s how they ended up in her room, both sitting cross legged on her floor with a bunch of makeup bags opened next to them. 

She would really like to be fussy and pouty about it, because not only he has her working on Halloween (she didn’t specifically ask for the day off, but she figured it wasn’t necessary for her to be at the entire show and he could’ve maybe let her off a little earlier, but, no — he had demanded she stayed through the entirety of the show) plus now she’s going to be late and she probably won’t have time to do her own makeup like she wanted specially for her costume!!

but… how can she possibly complain when he’s sitting in front of her like an obedient puppy, looking at her with curious green eyes every time she takes a product out of her bag?

This little crush she has on him is starting to get out of control! Instead of being annoyed at him she’s referring to him as a cute puppy! what is wrong with her!

“Wha’s that for?” He asks, pointing to the little tube of moisturizer she takes out. 

“Moisturizer. This one’s lighter than the one you use because I have oily skin, but I reckon it could work as well” she pops the cap open and squirts a small amount on the tip of her fingers.

She warms it between her hands before looking at him questioning, silently asking for his permission to touch his face.

He nods immediately once he understands, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“Hold your hair for me please” 

He brings a hand to his forehead and tucks away the curls that fell onto it.

YN feels her heart beat hard against her chest as she gets closer to smear the cream onto his face, massaging his cheekbones and his sinuses to ease the product into his skin. 

Harry sighs once she starts massaging his temples, and he makes sure to thank God in his head for his makeup artist and her children, because YN is really gentle.

She has really soft fingers and her touch is delicate, and he thinks she touches him like something fragile that is worth preserving. And he likes the feeling a little too much.

“All done!” She beams, removing her hands from his face (she even dragged the cream onto his neck!).

“Now I think we should do eyebrows” she takes out a small black spoolie and she starts brushing through his brows, “I don’t think yours need much filling.” She ponders, “maybe just in a couple spots we can make ‘em more thick if you’d like”.

He nods, “I’d like that”.

“Okay!” She grabs her pencil and draws a couple of stray hair. 

“Now… I think mascara. And then we’ll do the blush. Close your eyes” she instructs, unscrewing the tube of mascara and removing the excess on the tip. She brings a hand to his eye and presses her thumb to his eyelid, that way she can see his eyelashes better.

She starts coating them with the mascara, first one eye and then the other repeating the same process as well, “your lashes are so long” she whispers, almost to herself, but she hears him chuckle through his nose nonetheless.

“All done!” 

He opens his eyes and they flutter a couple of times, the new added weight of the mascara kind of uncomfortable at first.

Once he gets accustomed to it, he looks at her with his piercing bright green eyes.

YN looks between them as she closes the tube mascara; they’re the deepest shade of green today, and the black coating his lashes is only making them stand out more. 

“Now?” He asks, and she tries to hide her blush as she tilts her head down to rummage through her bag.

“Blush! I’m thinking lots of blush!” 

She takes out a bright cherry blush and “that’s way too red” he protests, furrowing his brows.

She shushes him immediately, “just trust me on this ‘s gonna look so cute!!!” 

This time he doesn’t close his eyes, but he chooses to look at her.

The concentrated expression on her face is really cute, her brows are furrowed as she applies the blush with her fingers (she explained she prefers fingers because brushes can irritate the skin and cause break outs and she doesn’t want that).

He feels her apply some on his nose too, and he involuntarily scrunches it. She giggles at it and then keeps blending the blush on his skin.  

From this angles YN can see he has freckles on his nose, and she doesn’t know why but it makes her feel warm. He seems more real like this, his nose sensitive and with a constellation of freckles on it. She wonders if they get darker in the sun, and she figures she’ll probably know once the summer arrives.

“Looks proper cute!!!” She sighs dreamily, looking at his face to admire the finished look. “I just know your fans will go crazy” she smiles softly.

He grins at her and gets up on his feet, heading for the bathroom to look at himself.

“Fuck I look good!” She hears him say from the bathroom, “the blush is my favorite part”.  

She smiles to herself as she starts tidying her makeup back into the bags, even if it’s pointless really because she has to do her own now.

She gets up from the floor and checks for the time on her phone that’s charging on the bedside table, just as Harry gets out of the bathroom. She still has a hour and a half to get ready, and she thinks she could make it work.

“Thank you again, pet” he smiles down at her and she suddenly feels too hot and breathless.

“It’s okay, no problem at all!” 

…

It’s past midnight once YN finally returns to the hotel. 

A guy from the crew named Peter (he’s a light technician) invited YN to go out with him and his friends, but she’s so tired she declined politely, promising to make up for it another time.

She doesn’t really know what Harry is doing, and she wonders if Peter invited him as well and if perhaps he declined, but she doesn’t have to wonder much because not even half an hour later she hears a knock on her door.

She’s already wearing her Halloween themed Snoopy pajamas, and if it was any other situation she’d probably feel embarrassed, but she’s so tired she just can’t wait to get to bed.

When she opens the door she sees it’s Harry, and she notices — happily — that he’s wearing his pajamas as well (His consist of a pair of plaid pants and a grey hoodie, but still a pajamas nonetheless), and his face is free of the makeup she’d put on him that same afternoon.

He holds in his hands two full grocery bags, and she looks pointedly at him. 

“Can I come in? My arms are starting to get sore”

She nods and moves to the side to let him in, closing the door behind them after. 

“So.” He starts, placing the bags on her bed, “I was about to go to bed when I realized it’s still Halloween”

She furrows her brows at him, “I thought that was like the whole point of Harryween?”

He chuckles at her, “of course, I know. That’s what I’m saying exactly.”

“I don’t follow?”

“I had you work on Halloween! You told me before how much you love Halloween and I didn’t think to give you the day off”

“Oh, Harry. It’s okay, really! Don’t worry about that, it’s stupid!” She says, but not without blushing a little.

She knows it’s just decent courtesy to remember conversations one shared with another, but she says a lot of stuff and she didn’t really think he would remember! Plus, he doesn’t really like Halloween, so she thought he’d actually regard her interest in celebrating it as annoying.

“It’s not stupid” he shakes his head, “I thought to remedy as best I could. But I have to confess, Jeff did the grocery shopping so I can’t take credit for it.”

She giggles and walks closer to the bed, peeking her head to look inside the bags, “it’s okay. You were busy”.

He laughs and nods, spilling the bags onto the bed. An undefined amount of sweets fall on the bed, and YN gasps at how many choices of candies and chocolates Jeff picked out.

“Fuck! i think he got every possible candy available” he snorts.

She agrees with a laugh, “what are we supposed to do with all this food?”

“I know it’s not the best but I thought we could watch a movie and eat it? But if you want to go to sleep that’s fine I mean I-“

He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels embarrassed.

What was he thinking? Walking into her room like a maniac with two bags full of candy and expecting her to be down to watch a movie with him. She works for him. This is entirely not appropriate and he’s aware of that, but… when he saw her on the side of the stage, singing mindlessly along to Golden, dressed as Princess Belle he realized how cruel he had been to take Halloween away from her.

Not only had he deemed it as “not fun” right in front of her enthusiasm, he also specifically requested for her to work, and even if she had not expressed formal complaints, she probably should have.

Because he had been a dick.

So, in his quick pee break, instead of freeing his bladder, he texted Jeff if he could do him a big favor and grab every single candy he could get his hands of, recommending specifically to get as many choices to pick from as he could (he didn’t know what YN liked and he couldn’t risk it).

YN quickly interrupts his train of thoughts, “okay!!! But I get to choose the movie though”

“Okay, -- he nods amused -- Deal. But — he says, picking up the remote from the coffee table to hand it to her — Nothing too spooky”

YN gets comfortable on the bed next to Harry, the candies resting at their feet. He has a package of Sour Patch Kids resting on his tummy, and every time YN wants one she has to move her arm, and it brushes against his chest. 

She feels… weird. It’s weird to her that he would do something like that, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. If it was any other case, if a guy did something like this for her, she’d immediately thought of it as a date, or a way to show interest in her but with Harry… it’s different.

She doesn’t think he likes her like that.

Maybe he sees her as a friend? She doesn’t think she’s particularly fun, but he always chooses to hang out with her, even after a tiring day…

She gets shaken out of her thoughts once she hears him gasp from next to her.

“Oh God, what happened?” She looks at him pointedly.

“I told you no scary movies!” He whines childishly, closing his lips in a pout.

“Harry! ‘S Caroline! It’s not scary!” She can’t help but giggle at him. 

“It’s scary to me” he huffs, taking a candy from the package and popping it into his mouth. He takes another one and shows it to her, which she gladly takes from his fingers. 

“I promise if you get past the scary part it’s really good” 

“Fine” he nods, “I’ll watch it. But please tell me once it gets scary again”

She smiles fondly at him and nods back, “yes, don’t worry about it.”

...

“You know, you were right… once you see past the scary scenes it’s actually a pretty good-“ 

It’s after the movie has finished that Harry realizes YN has fallen asleep next to him.

He rolls his lips into his mouth to bite back a smile, grabbing the remote to shut off the tv.

She must be so tired.

He has her working non stop while she should be out and having fun at her age. She isn’t that much younger than him, but he knows how much can change from your early to your late twenties.

He also knows he should get up from the bed and go sleep in his own one, but… he’s really comfortable right now and she’s really warm next to him, and she smells like candies and vanilla, the perfect scent to lull him to sleep.

He’s also very tired, and before he knows it, his eyes are closing shut and his mind is already wondering to faraway countries, with cotton candy skies and chocolatey grass.

The air smells like vanilla, and he doesn’t know if he’s dreaming or if it’s her next to him, he just knows he was definitely wrong; Halloween isn’t as bad as he thought. 

it's hereeee and it's halloween themed ;))) (!!!!!) let me know what you think and if you want part 2!!!! taglist: @gem1712 @jerseygirlinca @lexiecamposv @ameerakane20 @lovrave @mema10 @sunshinemoonsposts

[ghoststyles]

You Should Probably Leave

This one shot is inspired by You Should Probably Leave by Chris Stapleton! Hope you enjoy.

3.4K. Smut. Fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, degradation, the works. hehehe.

The feeling of the pair of lips gently ghosting down your collar bone sends you back in time. A simpler time. Two college students madly in love, unsure where their lives would take them. 

You smile gently, drinking in the scene around you; a warm fire lit, a nearly empty bottle of red wine, and a pair of strong hands dancing around your post-baby curves. Throwing your head back, you gasp when he nips and sucks at the soft part of your neck. Pawing at his lap, his hard prick creates a noticeable tent in his pants. 

You had a long day. The baby is teething, your nipples are dry and cracked, and you haven’t had an adult conversation in what feels like weeks. It’s been Miss Rachel and Cocomelon until your ears bleed. You’re not sure if it was the wine, but it’s like you’ve been brought back to life. It helps that your husband, an esteemed surgeon, is on his 3rd 24-hour call shift in a two-week span, giving you plenty of time to occupy yourself.

It started off innocent, your friendship with Harry. Your heart stopped when you realized who moved into the house across the street just 6 months ago. The other moms fawned over the new single bachelor in the neighborhood, not realizing it was Harry. Your Harry. Your college boyfriend who you thought you’d run off into the sunset with and travel the world. 

In an effort to establish that you’re a married woman, you brought a fresh plate of cookies to his door, your husband in tow. Harry’s slightly perplexed and shocked look on his face when he opened the front door that day was quickly wiped away when your husband introduced yourselves to him. 

It wasn’t until a few days later when you got Harry alone. Would he act like he has no idea who you are? Or would it be like a single day hasn’t passed since you left him at your college graduation, not knowing about the ring in his pocket as your parents and grandparents celebrated around you?

You were going on different paths in life, after all. Harry was a risk taker; you, on the other hand, are someone who craves routine and discipline. That’s what you repeat to yourself, trying to convince your brain that he’s not the love of your life. Even 6 years later. 

You approach Harry as he is getting his mail one day. Looking around, making sure the nosy moms weren’t around, or your husband isn’t miraculously home from work. 

“Hi, Sunny,” Harry says, swallowing thickly. 

His words send a punch to your gut. The nickname he called you for over 4 years hits the same, even after all this time. Your husband’s terms of endearment don’t hold a candle to this. 

Hesitantly, you cross the street, your arms crossing over your chest to try and slow your beating heart. 

“Hi, neighbor. How’d that happen?”

“Are you the only one allowed to come back and live in their college town?”

Ice cold. You weren’t prepared for that kind of response. 

“Not at all. Just unexpected, I guess.”

“I think it’s my turn to do something unexpected.”

You nod, pursing your lips in anxiety. You turn to go back in your house, feeling defeated. 

“I don’t have social media. I didn’t know you lived here,” he replies gruffly. “If you want to come over for coffee tomorrow morning, you can. I work from home.”

“Okay,” you reply softly, unsure if this is a real invite. Scurrying into the house, you wipe away a small tear that formed in the corner of your eye. Fucking postpartum emotions. 

Your racing thoughts are brought to an end when Harry snakes his hand over your stomach. He moans at the excess skin and fat, knowing you brought a life into this world. Weekly coffee dates between neighbors turned into wine nights when the baby goes down. All unbeknownst to your husband and neighbors. 

He finally slides his hands in your panties, gently swirling your clit, sending your head back on his shoulder. The stress melts off your body when he inserts his middle finger. 

“Mhm, squeeze me, Sunny. Take what you need,” Harry pants in your ear quietly. The baby monitor rests on the side table next to you. 

High-pitched whines escape your mouth as he massages your g-spot gently. The angle isn’t allowing him to speed up his thrusts. You come, loudly, a few minutes later as Harry sponges more kisses on your neck and temple. 

Shifting to your knees, you simultaneously pull his pants down, his boxers following suit. His prick bobs up, smacking him in the stomach. You nearly keel over, excited to have your mouth on him, as if you haven’t been doing this several nights a week when your husband is at work. 

The ruddy tip is dribbling pre come, the perfect lubricant. Since he knows you’re dirty, you spit on him anyway. Harry lets out a mixture of a sigh and whine, desperate to feel your warm mouth on him. You take the plunge, trying to shove as much of him down as you can. It’s hard, but you manage to slightly swipe your nose on the hair at his base. 

He’s a man now. He was back then, too. But he’s a man now. The slight belly; a contrast from his rock hard abs in college. And his face is aged, but in a good way. His stamina remains unchanged. A few more sucks and pumps of his dick and balls sends him spiraling. Ropes of his come hit the back of your throat. You absolutely keen as he grunts and thrusts one last time.

With a pop, you slide your mouth off, looking at him with hazy eyes. You roll to the side, laying your chin on his meaty thigh, just above his tiger tattoo. 

Harry sighs, knowing what comes next.

I know it ain’t all that late but you should probably leave. And I recognize the look in your eyes, yeah, you should probably leave.

You cover up your bare chest with your sweater, pulling your discarded sleep shorts back on.

“He’ll be home soon, and I want to feed the baby one more time before bed. I hope you understand.”

Harry nods, his face unwilling to let on how much your words hurt. He stands, pulling up his pants and boxers, slipping his sweatshirt overhead. 

Harry understood the first time. And the second. And even the third. But, here you both are, months later, entertaining this completely heinous affair. But, he just can’t fucking let you go.

‘Cause I know you, and you know me. And we both know where this is gonna lead

You excused the lingering; the extra kisses. You’ve even let Harry stay in your bed until the minute your husband pulled into the driveway. It’s gone on too long, and you need to set boundaries. But you can’t fucking let him go.

You want me to say that I want you to stay, so you should probably leave

You know it’s wrong. You’re not naive. It’s not even about hurting your husband. The unmitigated amount of guilt that comes from leading Harry on is more than enough to send you straight to hell. 

It was dumb luck, Harry moving in across the street. He had to hear about your new life through mutual college friends for years as hestruggled in relationship after relationship. You went off and married a future doctor. A sure thing. At graduation, Harry scored a job in tech. Sure, the field was new at the time, but it wasn’t like he was taking a major risk. You got cold feet and fled.

Harry leans down to place one more chaste kiss on your lips before he wordlessly slips out the door toward his own house. You stare out the window after him until a shrill cry rings over the baby monitor, catapulting you into your reality.

And it’s hard to resist, just one kiss, then you should probably leave

~

When Harry knocks on your door around 11PM just two nights after the last encounter with an overnight bag in hand, you’re not sure what to say. The baby went down easier tonight, allowing you to feel more relaxed.

“I talked to him yesterday at the gym. He said he’d be on call at the hospital until tomorrow morning.”

You nod, confirming what he’s saying. Your husband kissed you goodbye after a failed attempt at intimacy this morning. You made up some excuse of feeling off, so he jerked himself in the shower while you laid in fetal position, the guilt eating you alive. 

Harry storms past you, immediately heading to your bedroom. The bedroom you share with your husband. The bedroom just down the hall from your sleeping baby. You sigh, closing the front door gently. 

Harry places his bag on the chair in the corner, taking note of the clothing strewn around the room. He’d hate to leave behind an article of his clothing that would expose their secret. Harry pulls his shirt off by the collar, baring his chest to you. 

It never fails to smack the wind out of you. His toned, tattooed abdomen is illuminated by the lamp in the corner. You place your palms on his pecs, leaning in for a hungry kiss. You can tell he doesn’t want to talk tonight. 

“Strip,” He demands in between kisses.

You meet his gaze, giving your best puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t buy it. You peel off your sleep shirt and shorts, leaving yourself in a pair of white panties.

“Face down, ass up, Sunny.”

A shrill whine escapes your frowning mouth. You put up little protest and situate yourself on the bed. It’s tantalizing, the hold he has on you. The history. The lore. The taboo nature of your relationship. If that’s what you can call it.

You crawl onto the bed, ignoring the framed photo from your wedding day on the bedside table. Harry stands at the foot of the bed, admiring your plump ass, a small wet patch forming in the gusset of the panties. 

Harry lightly palms your ass as you jam your head further into the comforter. He squeezes and pulls at the skin, debating where to start. He starts by rubbing his middle and ring fingers over the wet patch.

Increasing the pressure, he leans over you, his lips tickling the shell of your ear, “I’m gonna eat you out, fuck you, fill you up, and we’re gonna keep these panties on. A little treat for when your husband comes home.”

Fuck. 

“Harry, fuck,” you stutter.

He’s now face to face with your backside. You feel one lewd, long, lick up your folds - through your underwear. It’s so, so good. In between licks, you hear him speak again.

“You know what I can’t figure out?” He asks, almost laughing to himself.

You dare not to respond, instead focus on his assault to your pussy. His grip on your thighs is that of the jaws of life, destined to leave marks.

“I’ve been fucking tearing this pussy up for,” he trails off. “Months, now? And your dumb fuck husband still has no idea? Not a clue about our history? How you were mine first? Does he even pay a crumb of attention to you?”

You cry out after a big swipe, the tickling feeling of the damp fabric on your pussy lips driving you wild. You’re holding back big, fat crocodile tears. You’re in this situation because you want to have your cake and eat it, too. 

“Tell me, Sunny. Does he fuck you with the lights off? Or a quickie in the shower? If he’s the love of your life, then why do you have to get attention from me? Hm?”

Fisting the comforter, the tears are now falling rapidly. You choke out a sob and clench your pussy around nothing. 

Again, you don’t answer his questions. Instead, he picks up the pace of his licks, focusing directly on your clit. He knows the left side is more sensitive than the right, so his tongue stays swirling in that direction. 

You come, quickly and loudly, smacking your hand against the bed. Harry chuckles to himself bitterly. Your head is still spinning, but you feel Harry peel back the gusset of the panties and slide the tip of his cock through the folds. 

He still has his pants on, but the buttons are popped open and his cock is sticking out over the band of his underwear. The edge of the lacy fabric touching the sensitive head makes him grunt out a moan. 

“Always so fucking needy. You need me, don’t you, Sunny? Tell me,” he mocks.

“I need you, Harry,” you whimper, your body ready to collapse to the bed. 

“Mm-mm. Tell me who you need right now, Sunny.”

“You, Daddy. I need you,” your wobbly lip makes you sound pathetic. 

He plunges in at your words, both of you gasping at the same time. You’re made for one another; You’re the lock and he’s the key. Even on the best nights with your husband, he gives you a mediocre performance at best. Your thrusts are never timed, and he refuses to talk dirty in your ear. 

“That’s right, Sunny. Good girl,” he mocks you again, his thrusts sending shockwaves throughout your body. You can feel his thumb trace around the edge of your asshole, making you mewl.

Harry leans over you, enveloping his body over yours. His lips ghost your ear again. The tone of his voice is low and sultry.

“Y’know what I think, Sunny girl?” he asks, sucking your earlobe into his mouth. “I bet you wish that sweet little baby in the other room was mine. Bet you wish it was me you walked down the aisle to.”

You gasp, heart stopping at the mention of your baby. Up until this point, you’ve been able to compartmentalize this part of your life. You start to protest, but he slips his right hand around your throat, squeezing gently. 

“Hm? Based on the way you’re squeezing me, I think I’m right,” the smug tone of voice is glaringly obvious. “Think of the life we could’ve had, Sunny. I think about it every day of my fucking life. Would’ve given you the world.”

Like a devil on my shoulder you keep whisperin’ in my ear. And it’s gettin’ kinda hard for me to do the right thing here. I wanna do the right thing, baby

“I know,” you finally choke out. Your conversations during your romps remain light, usually. But, tonight. Tonight feels different. His grip on your throat tightens as you feel him start to slow his thrusts. "Fuck, Harry. I know."

“Thought I’d hit the lottery when you and your husband knocked on my door that day. Thought I’d been given a second chance. Finally have you forever.” 

He’s fully panting at this point, and you’re unsure how he’s even talking. You clench around him, making him moan again. He kisses your neck, sweat freely dripping all over both of you. Instead of burying deep in you, he pulls out slightly as he comes, coating the inside and outside of your pussy, and dripping into the panties. 

It’s lewd, and disgusting. But, it’s everything. 

Harry’s lifts his body from his place on top of you, the slight breeze his shifting caused making you shiver. Harry moves to a half standing position to grab his phone off the bedside table. He snaps a quick photo of the scene in front of him.

You look ethereal. Your perfect, plump ass is complimented by the underwear now doused in his scent and spunk. The contrast of the dry and wet parts of the panties has him wanting to jerk off again. 

Reluctantly, he pulls out, and uses his thumb to snap the fabric back in place. He doubts your husband will even give you the time of day once he’s home. But, it’d be an epic way for your secret to be exposed. 

It’s nearing 1AM, so Harry stands to go into your ensuite to fetch a towel. Now, you’ve fully collapsed into the bed. He gently wipes just enough cum from around your pussy and thighs. He leaves a majority of it for the treasure hunt.

You finally build up the strength and courage to pick up a discarded T-shirt on the floor. At the same time, he’s putting on a fresh pair of boxers from his bag. You can’t bring yourself to meet his eye as you start reeling over the degrading words that came out of his mouth. You have every right to be disgusted by him, but you can’t bring yourself to be. Because he’s not wrong. 

You’d made a mistake. You knew about 6 months into your marriage. You loved your husband. Or maybe the idea of him. You met him when he was 2 years into his surgical residency. The perks and the bragging rights of dating a doctor got to your head. Every date, every argument and every moment of adversity had you wondering what it’d have been like with Harry. 

Life with Harry was easy. You got the best of both worlds; a hot boyfriend and a fun social life. But, when your sister introduced you to a man with a full 8-year plan carved out, you chose the safe option. What a fuck-up that was. 

Harry climbs into the bed next to you, still not saying a word. That’s the thing. With Harry, you don’t have to. Your energies and emotions just work. He gently pulls you down so you’re laying horizontally on your side, and he slots his legs between yours, nuzzling his face in your neck. 

In this moment, everything feels right. 

~

Harry didn’t sleep much. He tried. But, something deep inside him was gnawing at his soul. His eyes were closed the whole night, but he never quite crossed the threshold into sleep. 

He still had all his five senses; the sliver of light from the lamppost outside; the slight white noise coming from the radiator; the smell of your shampoo mixed with the lewd activities of tonight; the feel of your hot skin touching his; and finally, the residual taste of your pussy on his tongue. 

The sun is rising now, signaling the end of your time together.

The sliver of light on your frame has his heart bursting with adoration. It’s true, what he’d said before. He does think about what your future would’ve been like. Your long eyelashes cast shadows on your slightly cherub cheeks. You would’ve made beautiful children. Gone on memorable family trips. And at the end of the day, fucking love each other.

Sun on your skin, 6AM and I been watchin’ you sleep. And honey, I’m so afraid you’re gonna wake up and say that you should probably leave. 

A year ago, Harry thought you’d leave your husband by now. But, as time goes on, his odds of getting you back are getting less and less. His heart is breaking all over again. 

You feel him stir, so you turn over and smile at him. You run your hands up and down his bare chest, feeling every prickly hair. He smiles back at you, not saying a word.

You finally pipe up, a clear, sad tone, “Y’know how much I hate saying this.”

“I should probably leave.”

You nod sadly, placing a kiss on his chest. It’s honestly a miracle the baby hasn’t woken up yet. Harry kisses you, his thumb grabbing your chin. It lasts a few minutes until you pull away. Your husband is due home in less than 45 minutes.

I want you to stay, but you’ll probably say that you should probably leave.

You should probably leave. 

Harry rises to sit at the side of the bed, grabbing his phone. 6:12 AM. You think he’s fiddling with his phone to prolong his stay. His bag is already packed by the door. You smile to yourself, happy to have your lover by your side. He places one last kiss on your forehead.

Before Harry stands, he sends off an email to his realtor, confirming the sale of his house. $15,000 over asking price. It was a private showing, with an agreement that Harry would be out of the house in two weeks. 

He already purchased a home — Approximately 1,326 miles away from this one. Everything is set. His mind is made up.

Harry stands, grabbing his bag. He takes one last look at you as he stands in the doorframe, an unreadable look on his face.

“Bye, Sunny girl.”

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Secret Little Rendevous - Masterlist

[COMPLETED SERIES - 16.7k words]

(co-worker!harry x reader)

In which you are in a friends-with-benefits relationship than Harry, and it gets messier as you go forward. (Not your typical enemies to lovers fic)

Part 1 [4.2k words]

You and Harry, coworkers in different departments, use each other for sex. But what's gonna happen when you find out there are others involved?

Part 2 [4k words]

Aftermath of you finding you there's someone else in the picture, and oh, there's some jealousy? For Harry!? Ft. heavy smut, so much cursing, and teeny tiny angst

Part 3 [3.1k words]

The meeting with HR goes well (surprisingly). But, there's something else that'll break your heart soon, and Harry will be the one to crush it into pieces.

Part 4 [1.9k words]

The aftermath of the breakup. You find someone new, and Harry's...jealous?

Part 5 [3.5k words]

Harry regrets letting you go. But your relationship with Dylan is blossoming, but it always goes wrong one way or another, doesn't it?

[harry-styles-obsessed]

Silent treatment

You all seem to love the smut sooo I decided why not get ✨extra✨ smutty and give you something else(; MINORS DNI

Synopsis: Harry’s a billionaire. He’s been working 24/7 not giving you any attention like you often experience with him… one day he comes home and expects you to be all lovey dovey only to learn that you’re ignoring him… one way or another he’ll have to get your attention and earn it.

Trigger warnings: dominant harry, slight aggression, oral fem receiving, fingering, spanking, p in v, C word, edging, denial, orgasm control, degrading, kinda mean! Harry just general smutty things

©️Please do not copy or translate my work

“I’m home” his voice was loud and clear as it echoed around the silent home, usually there would be music playing or the tv on but there was nothing… only silence… “baby?” He questioned looking around “sweetheart where are you?” He checked the living room, kitchen, bathroom before headed upstairs checking all of upstairs before finding you in your and his shared bedroom “there you are my love,” he spoke with a smile gazing at you. You laid on the bed wearing a silk robe that barely covered your nude body— he stared at you, watching you read the story, him watching as your fingertips began turning the pages little by little and soon he was noticing that you were blatantly ignoring him. His brows furrowed slightly “earth to y/n?” He wore a black button up shirt that was unbuttoned at the top and black trousers to match it, his hands soon resting on his hips “alright what’s going on?” He questioned watching as your eyes eventually moved to look at him, only earning an eye roll from you before you looked back at your book.

He slowly walked closer to you before stopping just beside the bed staring down at you “you know I can get you to talk… and when I make you talk… force you to talk to me I won’t stop.” His words were menacing, underlined with a certain dangerous tone but you still continued to ignore him. He was never aggressive with you, even in bed he was rarely aggressive or even vicious but that all changed rather suddenly. He perched on the edge of the bed as he stared at you, before slowly tracing his fingertip from your exposed thigh and up to the inner seam of the nightgown that barely covered you, before with his free hand he snatched the book from you making your lips part your brows furrowing as you grew slightly annoyed before trying to snatch the book back with a few huffs and grunts only for him to toss the book onto the floor, his hand then effortlessly grabbing onto both your wrists and pinning your wrists down above your head a small gasp coming from your mouth and he stared down at you with a small smirk

“Now will you tell me what’s earned me the treatment of being ignored?” He questioned raising his brows watching as you just stared at him silently yet some excitement lingered in your eyes showing you liked where this was going, but at the same time you had no clue what he was going to do to you. You felt his free hand trace shapes into your inner thigh a shaky breath coming from you as he kept his eyes on you, before his finger trailed to your aching heat that was gradually growing wetter and wetter just from the thoughts spiralling round your head. He slowly dipped his fingertip in between your pussy lips using his index finger and thumb to slowly part them as he gazed down at you watching as you wriggled slightly a small whine coming from your lips “oh… that’s what makes you weak?” He mused with a evident smirk before he hummed still keeping a hold of your wrists not allowing you to move as he soon thrusted his long slender finger into your tight cunt, the gruelling and punishing pace of his finger thrusting in and out of you constantly at such a perfect angle making his finger touch against your G-spot over and over again, watching your reactions— all of them— the way you threw your head back and panted struggling to stay quiet as moans and whines came from you.

Soon he slipped in a second finger as he curled both fingers deep within your tight heat, your hips jolting weakly as eventually you couldn’t help but cry out his name his thumb drawing slow circles against your clit forcing your hips to buck over and over, the pleasure forcing the sounds and cries from you as you moaned his name. “There we go… not so quiet after all hm? Told you, you couldn’t stay quiet. I know how to make you tick.” His lips curled upwards in a small grin as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. The pace of his fingers and the delicate curl of his fingers that drove you utterly insane had your walls clenching down around his fingers over and over again, and upon hearing your moans and whines grow louder and the way your walls massaged his fingers and twitched against them he didn’t stop- no- he continued going

“You want to cum, hm?” He cooed to you watching as you nodded “oh yeah? Yeah I’m sure you do darling… do you think you deserve to cum?” He continued thrusting his fingers in and out of you keeping up the quick pace watching as you nodded pathetically before he without much warning pulled his fingers from your drenched hole. “Well, I beg to differ sweetheart. Only good girls get to cum.” He spoke simply as you whined and whimpered, your thighs trembling ever so slightly.

“If you talk to me I’ll let you cum.” He spoke teasingly and you whimpered “why, were you giving me the silent treatment, hm?” He asked softly but he had a pretty good idea. “Is it because you’re a fucking slut in need of a good fucking?” His words made you whimper and you nodded your head over and over again “oh is that so you naughty girl” he chuckled softly “please- please need to cum.. need to feel good… please Harry… please..” he tutted slightly as he stared at you before he slowly let go of your hands but your wrists remained weakly laid against the pillow, before he slowly leaned in closer to you “no.” He spoke softly as he shook his head, denying you of it before he stood up from the bed analysing you- studying all of you before he smirked slightly

“Roll over. Onto your tummy.” He demanded, watching as you just remained still and he stared at you unimpressed “three, two–“ and finally you obeyed rolling onto your tummy. He then knelt down onto the bed his large hands slowly stroking over your ass cheeks slowly and gently “you want my attention…. Is that your issue? Needy for my attention and love?” He spoke watching you nod and he hummed “use your words.” He demanded. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” You cried out and he smiled “right…” he trailed off hands continuing to stroke against your ass cheeks gently, the silence deafening as he remained silent for a few moments before finally bringing his hand down against your ass cheek smacking your ass hard, the harshness of it leaving a very visible red handprint as you whimpered Harry doing the exact same thing again in the same exact place making you moan “oh my pretty girl likes being spanked does she? Oh of course you do. Such a dirty pathetic slut.”

You moaned heavily as he continued to slap your ass multiple times, before he aimed his hits from where your asscheek met your thigh- slapping against the little crease watching as you jumped, only for a moan and cry to leave your lips, Harry chuckling softly “oh such a good girl hm?” His light spanks continued raining down against your skin until your ass was almost bright red. He smoothed his hands against the marks against your ass and smiled listening to you whimper as he soothed the stinging skin, but that didn’t last long as without much warning he pulled you so your hips were dangling off of the edge of the bed, and he easily flipped you around so you were now looking at him “harry please I need to cum. Please.. I can’t take it anymore..” you moaned out desperately.

“Y/n… I want you to beg me… beg me and maybe I’ll let you cum this time.” He spoke and you nodded fervently “don’t stop begging.” He spoke simply before his lips and tongue attached to your clit, beginning to suck the bud in between his lips suckling against it as he flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves watching as your hips twitched desperately a cry leaving your lips as you panted “please! Please! I want to cum! Please! I’ll be a good girl for you! Please!” You began begging over and over again, mindlessly, not thinking straight as the pleasure overwhelmed your head your breathing heavy as you squeezed your eyes shut your walls clenching around nothing as he continued to lather his tongue all over your hungry pussy. As his tongue continued teasing against your clit, he lifted his head stopping the pleasure making you cry out “shhh…. Y/n reach down. Fuck yourself with your fingers.” Harry demanded and as if a puppeteer was controlling your hand you dipped your hand down to your aching pussy. He watched as your fingers began thrusting deep within your cunt over and over again your hips jerking as your moans grew louder, he just watched as you toyed with yourself, his hand drawing circles into your clit as you continued moaning desperately. You were a mess for him and Harry loved it… he loved how messy you were for him and as your moans grew louder and he watched your pussy clenched around your fingers he quickly grabbed your wrist forcing it to halt, stopping your movement

“How badly do you need to cum?” He spoke teasingly, and you whimpered “so bad please… please… I’ll let you do anything… please!” Harry’s cock twitched in his pants and he clenched his jaw slightly before humming “good response.” He then pulled your hand from your pussy and instead replaced it with his own, his long fingers pumping in and out of you at a merciless pace as his tongue and lips began toying with your clit as screams of euphoria began leaving your lips, your sensitive clit even more sensitive from him toying with it his movement remaining fast as your body reacted to each feeling “c’mon.. c’mon… cum on my fingers… c’mon… cum right fucking now” he demanded watching you come undone right beneath him, your jaw slackening as you tilted your head back your breathing heavy as a sharp moan left your lips your hips bucking into his mouth as he fucked you through your orgasm a slight bead of sweat on your forehead as you panted your eyes rolled back into the back of your head your breathing fast as you tried to calm yourself down.

Harry’s fingers eventually halted but he didn’t pull them out only curling them slowly into you over and over again constantly playing with you “you want my cock?” He asked you knowing how fuzzy your hearing was, but still you nodded desperately and he chuckled “oh my pathetic sweet darling…” he hummed out “so needy for my cock. Want me to fucking overstimulate you hm? Until you’re screaming… until you’re messy? Yeah? Oh I’ll do that just for you.” He hummed out the lewd words only turning you on further, hearing the sound of material hitting the floor before feeling his hard cock press just between your thighs, the tip of his cock teasing against your pussy lips before he began edging himself in, letting out a low groan as he began slowly fucking into you, little by little until his hips were pressed against yours, rocking lightly against you as you moaned in pleasure his moans and groans soft as he lowered his head down taking your nipple between his lips as he swirled his tongue around it, nipping at it gently as your hips bucked into his. He was ravenous for you.

Soon he had kissed you deeply just as he picked up the pace, thrusting in and out of you at a merciless pace your lips parted against his as you groaned into his mouth, crying out in pleasure, Harry taking that as his chance as he slipped his tongue into your mouth— the both of you making out as he fucked you long and hard. Eventually he pulled back from the kiss, leaving a gentle but long line of saliva trailing from both your lips before it snapped and faded away as he leaned his head back, his thrusts grew harder and faster the sound of skin hitting against skin and lewd sounds echoing around the room being the only thing heard before eventually his hips jolted as you both orgasmed, his thrusts being slightly sloppy as he moaned before he kissed you again deeply keeping his lips pressed against yours as he breathed heavily, before finally pulling back “fuck… such a good girl… fucking hell… knows how to make me feel good hm…” he began trailing kisses against your neck, remaining inside of you as he just laid against your naked body, both of you nude and sweaty as he gripped onto you, his kissing soothing and loving his breathing slowly calming down before he let out a soft hum “I love you so much… but don’t ever ignore me again…” he chuckled out softly “or do… I quite liked this.” He spoke with a small smirk and you smiled lazily, leaning up to kiss his lips “I love you too…”

You both stayed in that position for a while, Harry allowing your tight pussy to massage his cock in the best ways. He could’ve stayed with you like this forever… in fact he intended to. When he fucked you like this he knew you weren’t just made for him but your body was made for him too.. maybe he was far too possessive but you were all his and he wouldn’t ever get bored of fucking you ruthlessly over and over.

[daisyblog]

Zane Lowe

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN is mentioned in Harry’s interview with Zane Lowe.

Based on this request.

“Nice nails” Zane compliments Harry who’s sitting in the seat opposite.

“Thanks” Harry politely replies as he glances down at his turquoise nails sitting on his lap. “Thanks for having me”.

After discussing Pleasing and he loved the idea of It, Zane asked “What made you want to do that?”.

“I think for me like…a big part of it is…like I really like making stuff and I really like..kind of coming up with ideas and collaborating with other…especially YN who again is very creative…I feel like I’m really lucky with people around me both personally and professionally that I get to work with are really fun to work with and…you know working’s like my favourite thing to do so..based on the fact that I think obviously it begins as a hobby so then like getting to make stuff for work I feel like is a real gift. I think if I didn’t think about it too much I would be making music and putting out music constantly…but I’m also aware that I’m a total control freak and I want everything to be perfect..so the idea of like oh I made these four songs I’m just going to put out an EP…It’s just not how I think of it”.

---

“You're faced with a time when you can’t do that…and the great leveller of like it doesn’t matter how much money you have, doesn’t matter where you live, doesn’t matter this doesn’t matter that…you can’t travel you can’t do this, you can’t go outside your house..It’s like suddenly you’re forced to not be this musician guy, you’re forced to be like a boyfriend, brother and a son…and all of those things..and actually I feel like I..you know kind of had a little bit of a chance to focus on that at least for a moment..umm and just stop and kind of take in a lot of stuff and…remember things, you’re kind of gifted this stolen time” Harry explained his view on the world pandemic.

“You mentioned being all these roles…you mentioned being a boyfriend, what was it like during these times?” Zane quizzed. “Because I imagine you got a taste of what it’s like being a “normal” couple”.

Twisting and playing with his rings on his fingers, Harry explains “Umm…YN has always been my comfort you know and I’d like to think I’m hers too…she’s been a big part of my life and…we’ve been through so much tougher…that it was kind of nice to just stop and take that in.” Zane nodded, an indication for Harry to continue “So when the pandemic hit..we isolated in LA for a while..I saw it as a time for us to be just us…but YN did find it hard because she has such a big family…and umm she just wanted to be closer to them…especially her grandparents and siblings”.

“Yeah I can imagine that being hard..being so far away” Zane sympathised “I don’t mean to pry into your personal life but what do you mean by time for just you two?”

“Like..we’ve never known anything other than travelling..or just being surrounded by other people and just having to plan everything in so much detail..to like not be seen you know…so we kind of got to see what a normal like would be like, whatever a normal life is..if that makes sense?”. 

“Yeah it makes total sense”. Zane agreed and could see that Harry craved a little normality in his personal life. 

“I suppose..I’m just like really lucky..because YN just gets it. She got put into the limelight the same as us..you know..so yeah she just gets it and I’m just so lucky” Harry continued with a slight giggle as he repeated how lucky he was. “I think what I’m trying to say is…I hit gold when it came to YN…she really is my best friend too and yeah…it was nice to be just a couple without the added pressures.”. 

---

“We have to acknowledge this because..you know we at one point we were going to this in the United Kingdom”. Harry nodded in agreement “But there’s something wonderful about being in this afterglow of Palm Springs..which is I'm sure is how you feel a little bit after these two amazing headline shows…you seem so chilled you know” Zane laughed but continue “There must have been a relief that you did it?”.

“I just..you know I knew I was going to put something out…whether it’s a show or an album or a song I want it to be perfect..and umm…I think like that’s why I take so much stress on I think around something like Coachella..cause I feel like I want it to be good..like if it’s not going to be good I’d rather not do it..so you know in that kind of setting, no matter what it is kind of…you know the dust or the wind or however many things, it's like so many things can go wrong in that situation..and it's not your show and it's my first festival so…you know I’m kind of going out to the crowd and I like knowing what I’m stepping out to” Harry rambled with a nervous chuckle at the end.

Harry continued “and that was really terrifying”.

“What was your instinct when they asked you to do it?” Zane interrupted.

“That’s too scary and I’m gonna say no” Harry laughed “But..uh YN was like you need to say yes and was just so encouraging and supportive..you know…plus she’s like my biggest fan so of course she wanted me to do it!”. 

“So..would you say YN helps with the nerves?” Zane asked curiously.

“I was so nervous..like so nervous..and I remember YN being on facetime to Louis before the show..and them both saying just to be myself and to enjoy…and when I was out there I just focused on being me and nothing else”. Harry spoke freely. “Their advice definitely helped…’cause I had the best time!”. 

“Late Night Talking?” Zane stated.

Harry let out a shy chuckle “Uhh…yeah” Harry leans his head on his hand to try and hide is cheeky smile “It’s about YN…well I don’t think it’s a shock to anyone”.

“So…would you say the whole album is about YN?” Zane asked confidently.

“Uhh..most of it..yeah pretty much” Harry smiled “She’s just been a constant in my life..since like we were what..sixteen or seventeen..you know..she’s my life..and I don’t have to pretend to be anyone other than myself around her you know…it’s just easy and I love that about our relationship.” Harry explained.

---

“Matilda really shows emotional intelligence and how you were thinking about someone at that time.”. Zane begins to talk about the middle song on Harry’s album. 

“Uh…yeah…I actually didn’t write Matilda”. Harry revealed, causing Zane to looked shocked. “YN had this conversation with someone…and she was getting to know them…and they opened up to her and she was like that’s not normal…so she was almost like writing down what she wanted to say to them…and I was like how many people could relate to this you know…and we agreed that it would make a beautiful song for those who needed to hear it”.

“Waw! It holds a real powerful message and I think even if people don’t feel those things…I think it definitely makes them feel something.”. Zane spoke with passion in his voice. 

“It definitely does….and it was just about saying I was listening….that was YN’s purpose to it”. 

---

“Boyfriends” Zane began “It is a great song..It’s from a male perspective, it’s a very knowing song..and It’s a very self-aware song..you have to have some self-awareness to write from that perspective surely”.

Harry answered immediately “Yeah for sure…Boyfriends was written right at the end of Fine Line” Harry explained “Boyfriends is about like…we’re all flawed you know..and I think pretending like we’re not, I just don’t get it..It’s acknowledging my own behaviour, it’s looking at the behaviour I’ve witnessed..I grew up with a sister so it’s like watching her date people and watching friends…but at the same time admitting I’ve not been a perfect boyfriend either”.

---

“Love of My Life..I’d always wanted to write a song about like home and loving England…and all of that kind of stuff..and it’s kind of hard to do that you know”

“So Love of Love My Life is about home and England?” Zane asked with a slight smirk on his face.

“As I started making them album…I realised it wasn’t about the kind of geographical location…it was more of an internal thing” Harry tried to hide his bashful smile by rubbing his finger under his nose.

“Do I see Harry Styles blushing?” Zane began to tease Harry.

Harry lets out a loud chuckle and tries to hide his face in his hands “You know..I’ll admit that I blush sometimes…especially when it comes to YN!”. 

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream @treehouse-mouse

[pleasingforharry]

can you pls write about quiet yn and harrys first time doing something sexual? like their first time or just him eatimg her out for the first time??

Oh hell yeah ;)

-

college!harry x quiet!yn

-

Harry had suggested it while they were making out in his room. They returned from his soccer practice freshly showered and stuffed from eating pizza the boys ordered. It was getting late, but neither of them were tired. They just wanted each other.

First they cuddled on his bed and watched a movie. What movie you ask? They don’t remember. It was forgotten as soon as Harry tugged his girlfriend on his front and connected their lips.

Y/N scooted up to coincidentally land right over Harry’s area. Whether it was on purpose or not, his gravelly groan didn’t go unnoticed.

Harry momentarily broke their lips from each other to stare at his girlfriend. She was breathing heavily to catch her breath.

Even though the girl wasn't a complete professional in the aspects of intimacy, the one thing she learned how to master from Harry was kissing. They did it on a daily basis that it became their second language.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Harry sighed, bringing his plush lips to her neck and sucking softly. If there was one spot he knew about her body the most, it was her neck—every inch of it.

Y/N placed her hands in his hair, running her nails along his scalp before gently pulling at his roots. She moaned gently, whispering his name like it was liquid. Harry's cock—already semi-hard from the presence of his girlfriend alone—grew indefinitely thicker. Y/N could feel it pressing against her clit, causing instant shivers.

Harry sat up, back against the mountain of pillows, bringing Y/N with him. He never parted from her neck, switching to the other side to give equal attention.

His hands reached under her (his) shirt to travel up her spine. She was so soft and warm. "Shirt off, baby," He mumbled. Her arms raised, and Harry quickly slipped the material off of her, before they both gripped each other like magnets.

Harry's mouth drooled at the sight of Y/N's pebbled nipples. They were small and hard as he wrapped his lips around the left one. Y/N pushed the back of his head closer. "Yes. Yes!" she whimpered, causing a sudden spark to her clit.

Y/N hips started to subconsciously move against Harry's boxers, her clit feeling the perfect amount of pressure. The couple haven't been dating for long, and as Y/N was still embarrassed about her low intimacy skills, this was the farthest they've ever gone; dry-humping.

Harry had lifted his hips up to her, grasping her ass and kneading them together. Y/N's head threw back as she gasped. She looked back down at him, before leaning in. "Again. Please," she whispered in his ear. Harry was tempted to come, right then and there.

He had finally left her nipples so he could watch the curve of Y/N's waist rotate. His hands moved to hold each side of her hips to help her go faster.

"Just like that, baby. Fuck. Good girl," his voice dropped. He wanted to roll his eyes back and drown in the pleasure, but the sight of Y/N was enough to keep them trained on her.

Y/N boldly reached down to shift her panties to the side so her bare cunt could wetly ride his cock. Harry moaned at his gray boxers turning dark. The smell of her was so strong now.

He wanted to taste it.

Harry's head lifted up, and his hand grabbed Y/N's chin tightly. When they were met face to face, they both stared for a while. Y/N's brows dropped in confusion.

"Let me taste you," was all Harry said, bucking up his hips. "Baby, I wanna taste your cunt so fucking bad."

Y/N wasn't just wet anymore, she was drenched.

Her head moved on its own, rapidly nodding. Harry's lips curved up into a lazy smile. He bucked his hips one last time, both of them moaning in harmony, before flipping them over.

Harry sat on his knees as Y/N adjusted herself to lay flat on the bed. Her hands were over her head, posing like a fucking goddess. Harry leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. You don't understand." His words were muffled against her lips. But she still blushed and glanced away. He chuckled, before gently kissing her cheek. "Look at me."

Her head turned to face him again with a shy smile. But her hands were anything but as they grabbed her breasts and flicked her own nipples. Harry watched in awe as she arched in pleasure. "Harry. Oh god," she gasped as her thumb circled her nipples.

"What are you doing to me, baby?" he puffed. He knocked her hands away and finished what she started. He pressed and swiveled and pinched. She jumped at each touch, grabbing at his wrist. His name came out in pornographic moans that Harry became suddenly possessive of the sounds. Y/N under him is nothing like the Y/N outside his bedroom. "You're naughty, you know that?"

Y/N giggled softly, batting her eyelashes at him. Harry leaned down and stopped right before their mouthed met. "Open." She complied. A line of spit drooled from his mouth into hers. Y/N eyes widened, but still accepted it. "And swallow." She did. "Good girl, baby." Her teeth dug into her bottom lip from the nickname. And the wet stop on her panties spread.

Harry tugged her lip free with his own teeth, before knotting their mouths into an intense kiss. Tongues fighting one another—his plunging deep into her mouth. They were gasping for air and only had a second to catch their breath before attacking each other again.

Y/N's moans grew loud in his mouth as his fingers moved faster on her nipples. She could come. She wanted to. Her hips bucked in agreement. But Harry didn't want it to happen that way. So, he stopped and smirked smugly at her scoff.

"Asshole," she muttered, slapping at his chest.

"You sure?" he licked at her jaw. He found her ear and moaned. Her cunt clenched around nothing. "You won't be saying that when I'm tongue deep in your cunt, I bet." He backed away to look at her, but she couldn't meet his stare as she was blushing profusely. "Look at me. Now." She didn't, and he yanked her chin to face him.

"Let go," she huffed, pushing at his hand.

"Listen," he barely touched his lips to hers, "when I'm fucking your cunt with my mouth, you will watch. Understand? You will not look away, Y/N. And if you do, I promise, we will be here all night."

Y/N's eyes widened.

"I'm serious, baby. I want you to watch what only I will ever be able to do to my cunt. Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay." His smirk grew to his ears.

"Good girl." He kissed her gently. Those kisses moved lower—some ended up being sucked into a dark mark. But as long as it could be easily hidden, Y/N didn't mind.

His lips left a trail between her breasts, down her clenching stomach, to her panties. He kneaded everything with his hands. Y/N whimpered at every touch. She could feel his emotions and desperation. It was overwhelming. Her hands landed on top of his as they moved. Her cunt dripped from the veins that lined his thick fingers.

"You ready for me, baby?" Harry slipped his hands under the sides of her panties. He cocked a brow up, waiting for a response. Y/N looked down at him and bit her lip roughly. She nodded and lifted her hips where his mouth hovered. He kissed the right bone of her hip, then the left.

"Please, dove," She whined, grabbing his shoulders and digging her nails into them. "I want you so bad, Harry. Please."

Just from those words, her panties were stripped away and thrown in the corner. He placed her legs over his shoulders so she couldn't close them. She was at his mercy. Her cunt was bare and dripping, and Harry had the perfect view. But he wanted to wait a little.

He pressed his lips to her inner thighs, giving them kitten licks. Y/N groaned and shifted her leg to push his head closer to her cunt. Harry laughed, looking up at her. "Gotta be patience, baby."

"But I want it now," she sighed. "Please." Her voice got caught up as she watched Harry move closer to where she wanted. But then she let out a huff when he kept going and landed on her other thigh. His teeth bit down and sucked. Y/N still gasped from the pleasurable pain.

Harry's nails dug into her legs and spread them wider. Her other pair of lips opened, and Harry was suffocating in the smell. His eyes rolled back just from that.

"Harry—"

"Yes, baby girl?" He was smirking unabashedly. "Are you rushing me? I should stop, huh?" She shook her head. "Keep going? Even though you were rushing me?"

Asshole. Fucking asshole, she wanted to yell at him. But held her tongue.

Y/N's bottom lip poked out to persuade him. "Please, dovie."

"What? You want my tongue that bad. You wanna know what it'll finally feel like to have me deep inside you?" He tilted his head to the side. "You probably dream about this, don't you baby?"

Harry hovered his lips over her clit. He was so close that Y/N felt his breath against her. All she had to do was lift her hips, but she didn't want to risk him stopping all together.

"Yes, I do. Please, I wanna feel you, Harry. Just lick me," Y/N begged, sitting up on her elbows. Her legs were over his shoulders and her feet touched his back. She dug her heels into him.

"I will, baby. I promise. Remember my one rule, though?" She nodded.

"Don't look away. Ever," she said.

Harry smiled warmly. "Good girl."

Before Y/N could react, Harry captured her clit into his mouth. She yelled out a moan, and her hand grabbed his head. "Oh my god!"

So, this was what it felt like.

Harry sucked his cheeks in as he suckled on her clit. His tongue licked and swirled. His head shook, and Y/N's back arched. Both of his arms circled her thighs to keep her exactly where he wanted her.

"Harry! Fuck. Yes, please."

Harry flattened his tongue on her clit, the warmth of it boiling her insides. He licked long stripes—completely covering her.

"You taste better than I fucking imagined, baby. Oh god," Harry moaned. His eyes stayed on hers as he stuck his tongue out and slowly circled her clit. Y/N let out a silent gasp, before squeaking out the only noise her throat would allow out.

Harry moved down to her folds, licking each lip. He brought his thumb up to her clit to replace his tongue. His head nodded with his tongue, before he plunged inside of her. That earned a tug to his hair.

"F—fuck. Oh fuck. Yes!" Y/N rolled her hips into him. Harry watched her writhed and smiled against her cunt. He drank up her words, her sounds, her fucking begging. "More. Please, more."

"Yeah, you feel good, baby?" He asked. She nodded, tightening her grip in his hair. His thumb circled faster, and so did his tongue. He swiveled it as she rode him.

"So good! It's so good, Harry. Oh—" Y/N cut herself off by a long string of moans. It wasn't on purpose, she couldn't help it. Y/N threw her head back as she pushed his head into her.

She didn't even realized she did it until Harry's tongue and thumb retracted from her.

"Y/N." His voice was so dark that she flinched. Her head lifted, and when she met eyes with him, she realized what happened. "What did I say?"

"I'm sorry. I.. please, keep going. I won't do it again," She begged, her hips still lifting. He stared at her for a long second. "I promise. Please. I'm close."

Harry smiled and shrugged. "I can't say no to that." And his thumb and tongue returned to their original spot. Y/N was caught off guard by the overwhelming return of pleasure that she gasped loudly. Her teeth dug into her lips. But the way Harry furrowed his eyebrows demandingly, she released her lip just as fast.

His tongue licked and flattened and swirled and plunged. He couldn't get enough. Y/N could only moan in response as her mind wouldn't make up any words. She was a moaning, gasping mess.

It was a sight etched into Harry's head.

"Harry, I'm close. Fuck! I'm so close, dove," Y/N whined, pushing at his head. "Stop. I can't."

"I got you, baby. It's okay," Harry said against her cunt. He leaned up to grasp her clit with his lips and sucked.

Her back was arching as far as it could go. She wanted to roll her eyes back so bad, but release was more important. So, her eyes stayed trained on Harry's tongue flicking at her clit. He knew exactly what she needed and how she needed it.

"Gonna come, baby?" She whimpered and nodded. "Good. I want it all over my face. Fucking mine. I want it." Harry was mumbling nonsense as his fingers were now playing with her clit. His tongue licking her cunt faster, ready to take all she gave him.

Y/N elbows wiggled as she was loosing feeling everywhere. She suddenly felt a bubbling pressure. "Yes. Yes. I'm coming. Fuck. Harry."

His name was stretched and screamed out loud as she let go. Her hips continued to roll to ride it out.

Harry moaned and licked deep into her. He collected all of her juices gracefully. His hands tightened around her thighs to make sure she stayed put until he was finished.

Y/N knew she was finally able to close her eyes when Harry did it first. He was drunk from her taste, and focused on the lone sense in his tongue. She dropped from her elbows to flat on the bed. Her arms stretched over her.

Harry's tongue continued to slowly lick her folds. She was finished and clean, but Harry wanted more. His moaning was so low, it was barely audible. His tongue slipped between her folds into her cunt, and he dug his face deeper. His nose nudged Y/N's clit, causing her to jump.

She was breathing heavily, whimpering from the overstimulation. She weakly pushed at Harry's head. "Dovie?" She spoke, her voice hoarse and shaking. "Let me see you, baby."

Her thumb brushed his cheek softly, trying to bring him back. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at her. But his tongue didn't stop kitten licking her cunt.

"So good. You did so fucking good, baby. Fuck," he whispered. His eyes were gentle. She smiled at him.

"Come here. Come to me." She outstretched her arms. Harry licked into her one last time, before pulling away and crawling between her legs to her naked chest. She cupped his cheeks and brought them into a passionate kiss.

"See how good you taste?" He said against her lips. She nodded, completely wrapping her arms around his neck.

Harry was hovering over her by his elbows. His cock was near her cunt as he slowly bucked into her. They didn't pull away from their kiss as they moaned together. He was so hard that it hurt, so Y/N reached down to rub him. Harry sucked in a breath, before gasping into her mouth.

"I got you," Y/N said, pulling him out of his boxers. "Just relax."

Harry stuffed his head into Y/N's neck and sighed. He planted his knees on the bed as she wrapped her hand around him—not completely as he was too thick.

Y/N started at a slow pace, sliding her thumb over his tip before pumping to his base. Harry moaned in her ear. He thrusted himself into her hand, fastening his pace with hers.

Y/N's other hand reached for his balls to quicken his release. "Fuck. Yes, baby. Oh," Harry moaned, his thrust harder. He sunk his teeth into her neck. He was close.

His cock was veiny against her palm. She pumped him faster. Pre-come was slowly leaking out of him. "I want it, dove. Please," She whispered. Harry gasped in her ear—his thrust slowed but now sharp.

He only pushed into her hand a few more times, before stiffening. His come shot out and landed on her cunt and inner thighs. Harry sighed, pulling away and panting. Y/N smiled at him.

"Thank you, baby," He said, before kissing her. His fingers picked up some of his come. "Open." She did. He stuck his finger into her mouth, and she sucked harshly. He slipped it out with a pop, before engulfing her in a kiss.

-

i'm ashamed of myself. gonna go take a walk.

[missmielyhoran]

Familiarity

in which you and Harry have a strange relationship...

Sugar Daddy!Harry Styles × Sugar Baby!Reader

[Warning- Angst, Little fluff, children, sadness, Harry being filthy rich]

Masterlist

*****

You were painting your nails when you heard the knock on the door. You got up from the floor fanning your hands in the air to dry down the nails.

You opened the door and there he was the same old man who visits you every weekend. Alberto, his name, you got to know after a few weeks in.

He hands you a new bag full of brand new clothes like every weekend, you take them with a smile and close the door as he starts ascending down the stairs.

You set the bag down on the floor where you were sitting previously when your phone buzzed. You picked it up from the floor and looked at the text sent by him.

Be ready at 5.

That was all it was, always. He was never the man of many words you got to know. You sighed as you took out the outfit he sent you this time.

It was an oversized sweater and a plaid skirt. This weirded you out at first. You expected a sexy lingerie or dress at first, but he never sent you anything like that. It was always casual outfits like this.

The clock stared back at you. It was 3 already, and if you didn't want to be late, you had to get up and get ready.

You had whole weeks to yourself but weekends you had to day how he wanted you to, every single step. He gave you shampoo, to body wash, skincare everything and that only reserved for weekends. Yes, if you liked something you could use it everyday and he paid for everything and even more.

He was sort of like your sugar daddy, well who were you kidding you did found him on sugar daddy website. Well not you technically, it was your best friend, Taylor. She was the one who suggested you go on the website when you were struggling to pay for your college, she was also the one who found him.

You couldn't even say no when you saw him. Those beautiful eyes held so much familiarity that you just couldn't.

He pays for you everything, from college to your groceries, everything anything. In return, you just had to play dress up and go on a date with him, not even sex which you were mentally prepared for, well sort of.

You got on with your usual routine of showering, washing your hair, putting on moisturizer, sunscreen, and then getting started with the same makeup you always did on weekends for him. Simple makeup, no foundation, and a bold red lip.

Soon enough, it was 5, and Alberto was on your doorstep, ready to take you with him. You got in the car. Very luxury car, something you only saw in your dreams.

Your heart was racing, even though it was a deal which you have been doing for the past 7 months you didn't know when it became more than that.

I mean, can you blame the girl for falling for a tall, hot, rich, generous man? with eyes like his? you were bound to.

Car stopped, and so did you thoughts. Alberto stood with open door, you got out and saw what was a small restaurant nothing fancy but not bad, it looked cozy.

You walked inside and saw it was empty, all the chairs were made but not a single person was there not even staff, from what you could see and guess with your intuition of knowing him for past 7 months, there was not more than 3 to 4 staff inside.

There, he was sitting on the bar stool, the lights from the small bar illuminating his side profile. His messy hair fell on his face just right, his ring cladded fingers holding the whiskey glass. He was dressed in nothing fancy himself, a simple orange sweater, and blue jeans.

You slid in beside him, catching his attention. His face lit up in a smile, and you just melted.

"You're here" He said, breathing out looking at you up and down. Your cheeks turned flaming red under gaze, "You look beautiful" He said, looking up into your eyes.

"Thank you" You mumble out. You didn't know why you felt this shy. You should be used to it by now, but his charm, his face, his hair, everything just made you fall and fall deeper.

You guys talked like you do, him telling you all about his week from his hectic work, the meetings, the annoying investors, to his daughter going through her runner phase.

Oh yes, he has a daughter, Aira who is 7 and going through her runner phase. She runs anywhere and everywhere whenever she gets a chance.

He shows you the pic of her showing off the teeth she lost yesterday, and you smiled. She had his eyes and curls and was an adorable child. He always kept you updated on her every single detail about her, and it never felt odd. Which you should have cause she was a stranger's child, to be honest, but she felt like your own.

It was late when you stumbled out of the bar with him. His arms around your torso holding you so you wouldn't fall down on your face.

You squealed when he picked you up in a swing, followed by a hearty laugh, which made him laugh also.

It felt like this had been happening for so long, not just 7 months or so but forever. It was as if he had been picking you up like this for years, but it wasn't. Was it?

It further got proven when he called you the name he always does, "Cherry". It would've been cute if you would've fed into your delusions and thought it was a nickname he gave you, but no.

The contract, the talk, you weren't here on a real date with him no, you were playing a part. You were not you but Cherry, his first love the one he couldn't have.

He slid in beside you, his arms around your shoulders. You put your head on his and closed your eyes. You wanted to sleep, fall into a deep slumber with his smell all around you forgetting who and what you were here for just him and him only.

So, you did. You fell asleep.

Harry smiled when he saw you fell asleep on his shoulder. It was your usual habit, every car ride no matter how long or short you fall asleep.

He sighed as he pushed some hair away from your face, your cheeks still red from all the booze, you were never one to hold liquor.

It was a sweet torture for him, this whole thing, this whole persona, yours and his both.

Alberto stopped the car in front of your apartment complex that was also chosen by him. He got out first carefully not to wake you up and rounded around to your side and picked you up to start to walk towards your apartment.

The familiarity of those steps always made him tear up, can't blame a guy for being emotional, right?

The routine had become so usual for him that he could do it with his eyes closed.

So, he opened the door, walked towards your room, and set you down on the bed. He took off your shoes and jewelries he knew you don't wear every day and set them on your nightstand.

Taking off his sweater, he walked out of the room to get some water when he heard the sound. He looked down and saw the cat circling around his legs purring.

"Yes Evie, still doing your witchcraft, huh?" He said, chuckling. He sat down and gave her all the belly rubs and scratches, "You being a good girl for Mama? I know you are" He said, kissing her forehead and getting up.

He took out the cold water bottle from the fridge, knowing you would have a headache in the morning.

He set everything on the nightstand and then slid in beside you. You smell engulfed him, and he melted into the bed.

For the first hour, he just watched you sleep. Was it creepy? totally, but he couldn't help it. He never could.

His phone buzzed, taking him out of the trance. He smiled when he saw the selfie Aira had sent him with her gummy smile.

Grandma made me pancakes for dinner.

How much did you bribe her darling?

I didn't! She loves me

That is true. Still

When you will be back Dada?

On Monday morning love

Okay

He heard the voice note say. She still couldn't type properly, but god did she sent him voicenotes.

Are you with Mama?

His heart stopped for a second as he looked over at you sleeping beside him. It was a difficult situation. It was difficult for an adult while she was just a kid. He couldn't even think how she was coping.

Yes my love.

Tell her I love her and miss her.

I will. Now go to sleep or I will sell all your toys.

He chuckled when a shrill No came in the reply. He put the phone down and shifted closer to you and brought you into his arms, and as always, you fitted right into it.

He kissed your forehead and closed his eyes, "One day Cherry. One day you will remember me"

*****

Taglist- @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @lomlhstyles @vmpellie @sunshinemoonsposts @jayde515 @yeehawbrothers @sleutherclaw @ikea2-0 @thechaoticjoy @astridcommings @grapejuicebluesrry @gxbiqs

I think my writing is getting a bit rusty. It's not that good but I wanted to write it so yeah

Please Like, Comment and Reblog.

Tell me how it is here♡ would love some feedback

Love you

[butdaddyilovehim-hs]

The Divorce: Part II

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

Read Part I here

“What does winning the case even mean? How do you win a divorce?” Lauren asked Y/N confusedly. The small cafe was basically empty as the two women sat across from each other, talking in quiet voices. 

“I’m not exactly sure. I think he just means that he leaves the relationship with everything he wants to keep. I’ll try and ask next time I see him, but he doesn’t usually let me get a word in. The man loves the sound of his own voice.” Y/N grinned as Lauren laughed at her description of the CEO. 

“I can’t believe he wants you to go out on a date with him. He literally just got out of a relationship… he moves quickly.”

“It’s not a date! Is it? It’s just a congratulatory lunch right? Right?”

“If you say so Y/N.” Lauren giggled at the bright colour of Y/N’s cheeks as she came to the realisation that Mr Styles possibly wanted to go on a date with her. 

“I don’t know what it is,” Lauren continued. “But I do know that he had a reputation before he got married.”

“What kind of reputation?”

“He was a no relationship kind of guy. He would fuck women, normally not more than once, before moving onto the next one. It’s why the media went wild trying to figure out what made Sofia different. No one knows why he gave up his lifestyle for her. Just… be careful Y/N. I don’t think you know what you could be getting yourself into.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond as her phone buzzed.

Unknown: How’s the case coming along?

Y/N looked quizzically at the text from the unknown number. After a few moments she realised there was only one person it could be from.

Y/N: Mr Styles, how did you get my number?

Y/N: The case is fine, but you do know that I’m only assisting on this right?

“Is that him?” Lauren asked. Y/N nodded sheepishly.

Harry Styles: I have my ways.

Harry Styles: Yes Miss Williams, I’m aware that you’re an assistant. I just prefer talking to over Robert.

“Ask him what he means by “win the case.” Lauren urged. Y/N shook her head at her friends eagerness before typing out a message.

Y/N: Well since I have your number now, can I ask a question?

Harry Styles: Ask away darling.

Y/N ignored the flutter of butterflies in her stomach at the nickname. 

Y/N: What exactly constitutes as winning the case for you?

Mr Styles: If I manage to keep our house, I count that as a win. I don’t care about anything else materialistic. Just the house.

Y/N: How come?

She watched as the 3 dots indicating he was typing appeared and then disappeared. After waiting, Y/N realised she wasn’t going to get a response. 

“It’s probably something super sentimental. Which is strange. I didn’t take him as the sentimental type.” Lauren mused, reading over Y/N’s shoulder. 

“Neither did I. But I’ve only met him once. I don’t know him at all really.” 

The topic changed after that and Y/N finished her latte, bidding Lauren a quick goodbye before heading to the office for the day. 

Sofia Styles, was quite possibly the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen. Cascading brown curls sat perfectly below her shoulders and crystal blue eyes made her look like she’d walked straight off a runway. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr Styles stiffen as his ex-wife walked into the room accompanied by her legal representation. 

“Sofia thank you for joining us. We’re aware that this is a difficult process for yourself and Mr Styles so we’re hoping to make this quick and easy for the both of you.” Robert smiled as warmly as he could in an attempt to diffuse the tension in the room. 

“You can address me as Mrs Styles. It’s still my name.” Sofia sniffed and Y/N refrained from rolling her eyes. 

“Not for long.” Mr Styles bit out. Sofia seemed slightly taken aback by his tone, and her eyes glistened for a moment before she blinked the forming tears away. 

“Is everyone ready to begin?” Robert asked. After receiving, albeit disgruntled nods, they began dividing everything. 

Y/N quickly realised that Mr Styles stayed true to his word. He had meant it when he said all he wanted was their house. He offered everything over to Sofia, their dogs, two of their cars, their holiday home in Italy and the small apartment in Paris. 

“And now for the house Mr Styles currently resides in. It’s my impression you purchased this home before you met Sofia?” Robert asked. 

“You could say that.” 

Y/N raised her brows at the vague response, but one look at Mr Styles’ face told her that now was not the time for questions. 

“Mr Styles has requested the house return fully in his name although Sofia’s name was added to the lease after they were married. Do we have an agreement from both parties?” Robert looked in between the ex couple warily. 

“Hold on I don’t think-“ Sofia started to protest. 

“Sofia. Please. You know how much that place means to me. I can’t lose it.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock as she watched the hardened man beside her plead with his ex-wife. What was it about this house that was so special?

“Please.” He said again. 

Sofia’s gaze softened slightly before she nodded once. Robert exhaled quietly at the agreement, rapidly pulling out papers for both of them to sign. Once everything was done, Sofia stood, gathering her things. She walked around the table to where Mr Styles sat beside Y/N and squeezed his shoulder. He flinched slightly at the contact, and at this, she removed her hand. 

“I’m sorry Harry. I really am. I want you to know that I loved you with my whole soul for a time.” Sofia said.

She waited for a few moments and when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to get a response, Sofia turned and left, her lawyer hot on her heels. Mr Styles had taken an apparent interest on the going ons outside the window, gripping the arm of his chair tightly. Robert gathered his papers and motioned silently for Y/N to talk to him, leaving her alone in the room with him. 

“Mr Styles? Are you alright?” Y/N asked softly, placing a hand where Sofia’s had been. Only this time he didn’t flinch. 

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be. I got what I wanted.” He removed his gaze from the window and looked Y/N in the eye. The eye contact made her slightly uncomfortable but she held his stare. 

“Well… it would be understandable if you weren’t fine. Sofia was a big part of your life.”

“And now she’s gone. I told you, everyone leaves eventually. Or I push them away. It was bound to happen and I’m ok with it.”

“If you ever need to talk about it I-“

“I said I was fine Miss Williams. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Come on, we’re going to be late to lunch.” He stood abruptly, buttoning his jacket and opening the door for her. 

“Lunch? Now?”

“You agreed to come to lunch with me if we won. We won, hence the reason I’m taking you out for lunch. We have things to discuss.” 

“Mr Styles I don’t really have time for this right now. Perhaps another time?” Y/N waited with bated breath for his response. 

“Let’s go. There’s a car downstairs.” He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. Y/N sighed, following him into the waiting vehicle. 

Just… be careful Y/N. I don’t think you know what you could be getting yourself into.”

Lauren’s words echoed in her head as Y/N sat across from the rather intimidating CEO, picking at the pasta he had ordered for her. 

It had been a rather quiet affair since they had arrived at the restaurant and the silence was killing her. Y/N lifted her glass of water to her lips as Mr Styles finally opened his mouth to speak. 

“Have you ever thought about being a submissive, Miss Williams?”

Y/N choked on her glass of water, spluttering and coughing for a good while as Mr Styles watched, offering her a napkin, an impassive look on his face. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I asked whether you’d ever thought about being a submissive. Personally, I think you’d be quite good at it.” He continued to stare at her, but a small smirk appeared on his face at her disbelief. 

“I’m not quite sure what you’re asking me or trying to suggest Mr Styles.” Y/N’s cheeks were flaming. She obviously found him extremely attractive (she did think his attitude could use some work) but this was ridiculous. This was a professional lunch! Or so she had thought.

“I’m wondering whether you would consider being my submissive. Surely you know what it is to crave a release so strong it has you thinking about it for days. Many things at the office are out of my control as much as I would like to say otherwise. For me, the bedroom is the one place I can know for sure that I’m in control and know that my partner is willing to give up their control to me. I need a distraction for a while; someone I can rely on to be there when I need them. It would be mutually beneficial of course. I’m told I’m quite a natural when it comes to that department.” His smirk widened, but there was something else in his eyes. Desire.

“I find you quite attractive Miss Williams. I have since the day you walked into my office all flustered. Having someone I can take to events would also be helpful so as to dissuade women who have recently heard of my divorce from making a move.” 

“So you want to own me. That’s what you’re saying.” Y/N finally found her voice.

“No. Well. Not completely. We could go somewhere more private for me to explain all the details.”

“You’re crazy.” Y/N pushed her chair back, ready to stand and leave but he grabbed her wrist. 

“Possibly. But deep down, I think a small part of you is curious. When was the last time someone touched you in a way that had you craving more? Ever wonder what it’s like to be tied up and letting someone else be in complete control of your pleasure? Have you ever had a guy make you come more than once? Or at all? I bet all this talk is making you wet isn’t it sweetheart?” 

Y/N heart fell to her ass at the way he called her sweetheart in that delectable accent of his. She had to admit he was right. Everything he was talking about had her clenching her thighs, craving a release. But what he was proposing was madness. 

“This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. You just got out of a marriage for god’s sake Harry.” Y/N didn’t miss the way he grinned at the way she finally used his first name. 

“Just… think about it.” Harry said, still holding her arm. 

“I have to go. Thank you for lunch Mr Styles, I appreciate it.” She wrenched her wrist out of his grip as she left the restaurant. She knew he had let her leave, if he had really wanted her to stay she knew her strength would have been no comparison to his. 

“Holy shit.” Y/N muttered to herself as she called a cab. When she had agreed to lunch she hadn’t known it would turn into this. 

Y/N’s head was spinning. It had been three days since Harry’s proposal and all she could think about was him. He had been radio silent and Y/N didn’t know what to make of it. She couldn’t be considering it… could she?

She had so many questions. Many of which she had typed out in a text to Harry himself, deleting them before she could press send. On this particular night, Y/N was quite a few glasses in to the bottle of red wine sitting on her coffee table as The Notebook played in the background. 

She was, once again typing out a text to Harry that she had no intention of sending.

Y/N: If I was to agree to this, you’re telling me you’d be using me for sex and as arm candy?

Reaching over to refill her glass, she groaned in frustration, as her phone slipped from her hand into the couch cushions. Y/N fumbled around blindly as she pulled it out, eyes widening at the delivered sign underneath her message. 

“Holy fucking shit.” Y/N whispered to herself as the delivered sign changed to read. She waited a beat. Then two. She sighed in slight relief as the three dots indicating a response were no where to be found. 

Then her phone started ringing.

Incoming call: Harry Styles

Y/N swiped across the screen with her eyes half closed as she tried to decline the call. The ringing stopped and she exhaled in relief. 

“Thank fuck.” She said outloud. “I did NOT want to talk to him tonight.”

“Talk to who?” The familiar low tones of his voice rumbled through her phone. 

Y/N was silent. She couldn’t believe she was this stupid.

“Miss Williams? Are you there?” Y/N could practically hear his smirk over the phone. 

“… Yes.” She mumbled out. 

“So it seems you’re considering my offer after all.” 

A/N: HiiI!!! I didn't expect to get another part out so soon but I'm so excited to hear your thoughts! What do you guys think is the reason Harry is so attached to the house? Are you liking the story so far? Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Read Part III here

Tags:

@lukesaprince @harrys-flower @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @intimacywithceline

[grapejuicestyless]

Every Road Leads Back To You.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and Y/n have always been life long friends. A friendship that fell apart with his fame, but came back with hers.

From the moment they knew what a friend was, it seemed that Harry and Y/n had been that. Two friends who spent each and every second together. Sharing crayons in pre-school. Harry’s red wax scribbled on a thin sheet of paper to Y/n’s deep blue. Together they made purple.

They always shared, without realizing they did. Always so giving to one another, so gentle. They held each other closely, never alone. Always one step to the side of the other.

In elementary school, Y/n shared the sweetest candies with Harry when his mother insisted on packing healthy foods to help him grow up strong. Always letting him pick off what he wanted first before taking her share of the sweets. A smile plastered on their faces and chocolate smeared across their cheeks.

By middle school Y/n was buying all her shirts a few sizes too large. A habit she picked up so Harry could borrow anything he wanted, just as she had done to him. Raiding his clothes each sleepover and keeping them until he all but took them back. Something he said he found slightly annoying, but the redness on his cheeks and the guilty pleasure of seeing her in his clothes was nice. Only dueling his little kid crush on her. Nothing they had was ever just theirs. It always connected right back to the other but neither of them minded. They completed each other in so much more than materialistic ways. While a shared shirt or a worn down crayon box was a nice reminder of their invisible tie on one another, their constant presence and kindness that was reflected special for one another really completed them. Each becoming the better half of the other in their eyes. Something that was rare and so pure.

High school was the first ending between them. Each day spent together, hours dedicated to hearing Y/n’s laugh and Harry’s horrible jokes that she adored for reasons nobody else could quite get like she did. Homework was copied, tests were failed and tears were shed all on his bedroom floor like they always had been. And they remained together. It was their graduating year that Y/n gave Harry his final gift, one that neither had thought to be the last. Y/n had signed Harry up for X-Factor. A competition Anne and her had always encouraged him to apply for as he had such a raw talent. Harry believed that they were only saying that because they loved him, but Y/n believed he was the best singer in the world.

He went on the show. The Styles family excited waiting backstage in the T-shirts Y/n had made. Showing support even when she wasn’t allowed to be there. A touch only the family would know existed until the end of time.

By the time Harry was placed into a boyband, inching closer and closer to the end of the competition, it seemed he was growing more and more into someone you’d only ever read about in the latest edition of Vogue. His boyish demeanor never changing and his kindness strong, but his time diminishing quicker than anyone could’ve bet on.

So Harry no longer had time to be with Y/n ever minute anymore. No longer dedicating hours on his floor, back aching almost as hard as his cheeks from his smile. No longer joking about everything under the sun with her, no longer taking her shirts and trading off his as a fair deal. It all ceased to exist. And Y/n faded away into obscurity. Falling far from her role as Harry Styles’ best friend and into only his origin story.

………………………………………………………………………………..

One Direction was over. Whether the world chose to accept it or not. The promised return after the break becoming more and more obvious as one that fell through as the years continued to roll on.

It was always hard for Harry, being on his own. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it, he had grown to be self sufficient over the last decade. Learning how to do things on his own. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle it, it was that he had never mastered liking being alone. Always longing for a companion. Someone he could share everything with. Someone he could count on to laugh at even his worst jokes. Not just to humor him, but because they believed he was the funniest person on the planet. Someone that could give as much as he did. Someone who didn’t mind sharing.

Someone like her.

Over the years, Harry always thought about her. The reminiscent sound of her laughter still new and familiar to his ears. Something that he vowed to never forget. She always loved his jokes. Eyes constantly crinkled and teeth showing.

She gave too. Gave everything she ever owned to him in a joint custody. An unwritten rule between them. That no object was nearly as important as they were to each other. No job, no paycheck, no ranking in education could ever mean more than they did to each other. Harry still had some of her shirts. Bowie, Mercury, Buckley, Nicks. All the greats spread across some of his favorite shirts.

Everything about her was his favorite. Even after all this time. He’d had four boys to call his best friends all these years. Everyday spent together, bunk beds under one another and socks mixing together in their laundry loads, but nothing ever shared in the same way he had with her. His love for them not the same as it was for her.

That sense of loneliness always lingering in the back of his mind. Maybe a tinge of regret. He always wished he hadn’t let himself get pulled away from her. Maybe then she would be there, laughing with her head in his lap, mouth muffled against the denim on his thighs as she rolled around, holding her stomach and warning him that she just might piss herself.

Maybe they could’ve become more. Her hand in his and his lips on hers. A daydream he used to think about in middle school. One that faded away as his crush had. But now he would never see her again. Never hear her laugh or know how her smile changed with her age. He bet that it was just as beautiful, if not more. Just as welcoming. Just as genuine. But he would never know, as Harry had no idea were she was, where she had gone. Her phone number belonging to someone else now and all social medias deactivated and unused. She had truly slipped from his life, only to remain a wonderful memory. Until recently.

Like some unworldly creature had been guiding him, watching him and helping him, Harry had found her. It wasn’t in person, by any means. Her physical presence still as empty as it had been these past years. The loneliness still lingering and the regret still as sharp. But he had seen her. And everything he had ever wondered about her had been true.

For there she was, her face looking out an older looking window, surrounded by some of the biggest names. Florence Pugh, Emma Watson, Timothée Chalamet, Saoirse Ronan. There was his beautiful Y/n, the girl who always dreamed of Broadway and movies was on the movie poster for the new adaptation of Little Women.

Something about it felt so right. The way she aged like fine wine, looking just as youthful as she did in her later teen years now even in her mid twenties. The way she had made it into a large project, something she always dreamed of, and something Harry had always wanted for her as well. A accomplishment that she deserved more than anyone. That and the knowledge that her name, Y/n Y/l/n was scribbled under the quiet, yet kind character, Beth. Someone Harry believed fit her perfectly. As to him, Y/n was the best of anyone he’d ever loved. Even all these years later, Harry still believed she was something of an angel that was sent straight from heaven just for him. The better parts of him and the even better parts of her beside him for what should’ve been eternity, but were taken away without reason.

He tried not to be weird when he passed it. Trying with all his willpower to not stop and stare for an uncontrollably long amount of time. Yet, his feet grew heavier with each step by until he fell to a stop. Mouth opened slightly and eyes sparkling with joy and wonders. He looked like a young boy again, excited over something short of Christmas in his eyes. The best gift of all had been granted to him, the knowledge that his best friend was doing just fine.

Harry was quick with his fan girl natures over her. Sneaking a quick photo underneath his coat sleeve and turning his brightness down to such an aggressive dimness that only he could quite see what was on his screen. His fingers wandering away from the photos app and searching her name, trying to find anything out about her.

Y/n Y/l/n. A twenty five year old actress who had stared in a handful of critical acclaimed films now, and earned spots on a few well established television shows. How could Harry have not known? Had he really been so caught up in himself that he couldn’t see his old friend rising to a similar status as his? How could he have not known she was in so many different projects, many he had even planned to watch himself. How could he have been so blind to his Y/n, who had been just a few steps away from his reach, who had continued to stay by his side all while he thought she was somewhere far away?

It seemed almost absurd, the whole situation. Someone who was so involved in the media not knowing about a very popular actress, who just so happened to be his best friend. But it was true. Harry barely spent time on social media anymore, not enjoying it the same as he did in the band. And his feed was mainly just his new friends, any posts of other celebrities unseen. Deep down, Harry knew it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know. How could he have? There was no way to ask her, no way to reach her. But even then, he felt that the drifting was his fault to begin with.

He wanted to blame it on his tour schedule and his long studio hours he spent locked away from the real world in order to create something he loved. But in reality, Harry could only feel selfish. Selfish that he couldn’t even be bothered to pay enough attention to the rest of the world to see what was always there.

He tried not to overthink it, letting it slip into the back of his mind as he geared up for promotions and lavish parties that tumbled his way, schedule too full to be worried about someone who had probably already forgotten those years and their secrets. Someone who had probably stopped caring long ago. And so even as the thought sat in the back of his mind, Harry did what he always had. Shoving himself into his work until the rest of the world and his worries melted into a nothingness.

………………………………………………………………………………….

It had been the night of a Gucci event. Something so prestigious to the outsider, but to Harry seemed more tame compared to the other events he was being dragged to. One that he could relax at knowing he had some familiar faces being in attendance.

He had worn his nicest suit. A simple white set with a ribbed tank top underneath. Pink sunglasses large on his face, but in a way he managed to make it look good. Hair tamed but free at the same time. To say he looked good was an understatement. Because Harry looked damn good, and he felt it too.

Not only had his appearance been a confidence booster, but the immediate finding of some of his friends helped to ease his mind from the pain of small talk. He had gone over lines he would say to new people, wanting to make friends and be kind, but felt more calm around those who already knew him.

It went smoothly, at first. His posture slightly slouched and drink held loosely in his hand. Eyes glued to the circle of people that had formed in the corner of the large room.

He felt comfortable, at ease with the whole night. It seemed that even in the beginning of the event he could see how it would end. With the professionalism fading away the deeper everyone grew into their drinks, and he would slip upstairs with a smaller group to do some questionable things, forget he did them in the morning and regret it while he was over the toilet by the afternoon.

A hot mess he would’ve taken any day over the hot mess Harry was about to become.

If he could’ve shattered his glass without facing consequences of it, he would’ve. Harry would’ve broken the glass and stared as hard as possible if it were acceptable. But it wasn’t, so when the all too familiar laughter, the same one that he could recognize anywhere as if it were one he still heard everyday just barely made it to his ears, he couldn’t stop his heart from racing and his eyes from widening.

Just beyond Alessandro, someone Harry had worked with in the past and was comfortable enough to call a friend with, was the one woman who haunted him innocently as a ghost.

At first he believed he was seeing things. His drink could’ve been spiked, for all he knew. He could’ve had one too many, even if he was only two drinks in and was nowhere near a lightweight after all his teen years conditioning to stomach the drink. But with the soft rub of his knuckle to his eyes and a few clear blinks, he could see it was true.

She glowed, standing out even in a room full of the most well known names. Her hair straightened until it was absolutely pin straight, the front pieces slicked back behind her ears into a sleek look. Her clothing similar to Harry’s, ironically. She wore a suit as well. The fabric the same shade of white and her face wearing glasses just as big. The inside the same shade of orangish-pink, the rims thick and black. A classic look that was perfect in her fact.. The only thing that seemed different was the fact that Harry had worn a tank top beneath his suit coat. She had a white vest underneath hers. One that acted as her shirt, and made her look that much better. She even had the same lazy grasp on her drink that Harry had on his.

She had been talking to someone Harry hadn’t recognized when he spotted her. Laughing at something the other woman had said genuinely before beginning her goodbyes. Her hands laying over the older woman’s gracefully and her head tilting down to excuse herself. How ironic that Harry would catch her slipping away, just as she had watched him do all those years ago.

Watching her walk away felt like his leaving all over again, and something snapped inside of Harry.

All these years of wondering, of regret and wishing that she was there had finally built up enough to make him forget that he was meant to stay and mingle. Make himself look good for future promotion of his upcoming album, Fine Line.

“Excuse me, sorry. I have to use the bathroom.” Harry hadn’t meant to be rude, but his eyes just couldn’t slip away from her fleeting frame, hands stuffed in her pocket and hair flying behind her.

His footsteps were rushed and quick, the warmness of the party turning into the darkness of the night the closer he got to the exit. Front door still wide open and the streets abandoned. Paparazzi not yet lined up on the sidewalks. He could see it now.

His broad shoulders had brushed another’s in his panicked state, soft sorry’s exchanged and his eyes becoming forced away from the only person in the room that seemed important in the moment.

The air was cold and with each heavy breath Harry could see a faint puff of his own breathe in front of him. He had lost sight of her quick, in his incident inside. His focus only lost for a beat, but long enough for the girl to slip away into the night like a ghost. It was only when he’d turned the corner, feet planted and chest heaving underneath a flickering lamppost that he saw her. The elegant woman smiling and thanking the driver whose car she’d began to get into.

He wanted to scream, to call out her name. Yell at her to stay, beg her to recognize him. But all that came from his lips was a heavy silence. Harry realized he hadn’t rehearsed what he should say to her. How do you speak to someone who knows you in and out after drifting so far apart and losing everything you once loved about each other? How do you reconnect? It was much too late to think about that, even in his jumbled mess of a head, he let his head speak.

“Y/n!” It came out staggered. Out of breath and winded from rushing out to get to her before she left. Feet heavy again on the pavement, goosebumps aggressive underneath his smooth suit. He was hell for leather in this moment, desperately trying to reach her.

His attempt was poorly timed, and just as they had all those years ago, the pair had slipped out from each others grip without realization of what was happening. Neither of them at fault, the only thing to blame was the lack of awareness that seemed to hurt them each and every time.

Y/n drove off in the opposite direction, oblivious to who had been shouting for her, who had been all but on his knees, begging for her to come back so they could see each other again. It looked pathetic, and he felt just as much. But Harry would much rather feel pathetic than regretful. A feeling it seemed the universe ordered him to continue feeling.

………………………………………………………………………………….

Y/n never knew what happened that night, and maybe she never would. It was ironic, and all together idiotic that the pair, who had always been so in sync with each other had fallen out of it.

If there was one thing for certain that they still had, and would always have, it was the known fact that no matter where they were pushed or pulled, they could never stay apart for too long.

With each new release of an episode from some corny, yet brilliant series or the premieres of a highly anticipated film, it only became more and more apparent that she would forever be a name cemented into Hollywood pop culture. The crowds of paparazzi and cheerful fans lining the exit to each shop she visited usually only furthering it. Her presence at lavish and exclusive events becoming something that was regular.

So it wasn’t out of the blue that Y/n would be spending her night at yet another gathering. Yelling and dancing with another well established name in Hollywood, and one of her good friends at some random celebrities party. The lights blinding her and the music way too loud. That was the one thing that had changed over the years, with her status in the world.

Y/n used to adore this kind of thing. The constant moving, the sweat and the coolness of a hard drink soothing the intense heat of a club. She loved being social, partying only to regret it in the morning.

It wasn’t that Y/n had become dull, no quite the opposite. Y/n was always the life of every party. The one starting the stupid drinking games and cracking way too many jokes, laughing hard at the ones being told. It was the fact that everything was just so fast paced. Waking up too early and going to bed too late, Y/n longed for those quiet nights alone more and more. Loving being able to curl up with a friend or two and just enjoy the night intimately. Something she’d always loved, but something that she had grown to love even more now.

Still, she let herself be persuaded into nights like tonight, three drinks in before midnight and makeup smudged in rockstar kind of way. She had glitter over her eyelids and a devilishly lustful smile painted across her face. The alcohol bringing out the flirt within her.

So she let herself grind up against the man she had come with. No one more than a friend to her, but someone she trusted enough to let loose with. Someone with the same mindset as her.

And with her head thrown back against his shoulder, hands running down his neck and his fingers pressing into her hip bones firm, it seemed like nothing else in the world would matter. Maybe the headlines would be crazy if someone caught them being so scandalous, being so free, or maybe no one would care. A risk that was all too fun, all too familiar.

The laugh she let out was one of pure joy, eyes snapping open and head leaning back up. She slowed, stepping away from her friend. His eyes opened too, missing the feeling of her body on his. She waved her hand, signaling she was okay, always one step ahead, already expecting his worried expression and questions.

“I just need to sit for a minute, sorry.” She downplayed it, acted like she was only getting tired when in reality, the whole room was spinning at a forty five degree angle. Her brain mush and lipstick wearing down from its crisp red to a smudged pinkish color.

She found a home in a well worn leather couch, tucked away in the back of the room. The music still loud but the lights not as intense. She could feel herself finding her grounding all while the leather stuck to her thighs and swallowed her into a comfortable slump.

Eyes heavy, she swore she could’ve fallen asleep. She would’ve let herself too, if it were not for the all too familiar voice that just passed her by.

Even with the music pounding and the distant ringing that was leaving her ears now, she could make out the faint conversation, catching the ending of, “-so maybe in December? I’ll be home by then and we can totally try!” It was all so enthusiastic and light. The accent not too strong but present. One that was similar to hers. She was sure she knew who it belonged to, and in her curiosity, everything he assumed was true.

There, only a few feet from where she sat, she caught a glimpse of those all too recognizable green eyes. Ones that seemed fake, like contacts but were deeper and less intense the closer you looked. A deep green. Emerald even. And his dimples just as deep.

She rubbed her eyes, glitter residue on her knuckles. Blinking hard and swallowing, she squinted. Was she dreaming?

No, she decided. He was there. In the middle of a sea of people, just as youthful and energetic as she remembered. It felt sort of bitter, seeing him now. How after all these years of nonstop thinking of him, there he was. Easily accessible and closer than she could’ve wished. Y/n practically drank up his appearance. He was just as beautiful as the day he left. It was emotional, weirdly enough. Everything rushing back. How now, they had spent more time apart than together probably. The distance killing her slowly all while he lived a good life. She wondered if he thought of her like she did of him. If he missed her like she missed him. She wanted to know.

So, pushing herself up by her knuckles, leaving a trail of glitter, Y/n weaves between the crowd. His name on the top of her tongue, eyes blinking rapidly to drown out the lights shining down. Flashing and moving too quick.

He was moving, fast. Walking with a friend of a friend, a taller man who looked about the same age but gave the vibe that mentally, he was more mature.

“Harry!” She shouted, her voice falling mute to the loud music and side conversations. A hand found her wrist, pulling her away from him, just as she almost broke away from the crowd. As she almost reached him.

“I thought I lost you, dude!” Tom had joked, his voice loud and light. Y/n turned her gaze away from where Harry stood for a moment, making sure it was really her friend that had her in his hold. And only after seeing his curly hair and half buttoned up shirt did she look back.

Her gaze was met with the emptiness of the space where her old friend once resided. Frantically, she searched from where she stood idly, but he had gone quicker than he had came. Almost like in her tipsiness, he was a figment of her imagination.

But she was sure he was real, she could feel it. She hoped it too. Y/n eventually managed to unstick her eyes from the blank space, finding her attention locked on Tom’s lopsided smile and his heaving chest. She allowed a smile to spread across her cheeks, letting go.

Even then, while playing pretend and seeming like everything was fine, in her head she couldn’t quite enjoy the night the same, mind clouded by what could’ve happened, what could’ve been. And in that moment it felt like the wound of missing him had torn again, cutting deep into her chest and causing a shut down in her heart.

The rest of the night would only be spent in the ways she had expected it to when it started. With her drunk, glitter everywhere and lips smudged. What she hadn’t expected was the regret of not trying harder to reach out to Harry and letting him get away again to be so strong in her mind.

The wishes that he was still there no longer just lingering thoughts. Selfishly, Y/n began to pretend that Tom was Harry, the drunker she got. His name almost slipping past her lips while they danced.

………………………………………………………………………………….

The air was crisp, the moon high. Even the softest breath could be seen, exposed in the cold December evening. The lampposts lights shining a translucent yellow that stretched across the pale pavement.

It was quiet, at this time of night. Late enough that the world was toeing a line between early morning and the latest parts of night. The clock inching closer to midnight with every passing second.

The world was asleep, the only sounds emitting into the once busy streets in the outskirts of London being the faint rustling from inside the twenty four hour pharmacy, the sharp crunch of hardening snow beneath his feet and the soft melodies that filled Harry’s earbuds, swallowing him into a world of his own. He had forgotten a few things at the market on his way home, and knew if he didn’t get them now, his future self would scold him for it in the early morning.

So there Harry was. He walked with his head down, one hand stuffed so tightly in his pocket, the warmth of the small enclosed space causing the palm to sweat a little, even in the cold. His other hand wrapped firmly around his phone, he searched his playlist for another song, wanting to find the perfect one to encapsulate this moment, cement the beauty of an untouched snowfall on the deserted streets of one of his favorite places.

“Umph!” It was muffled, when it fell against his ears. Music blasting still. Almost so quiet that he could have missed it, if not for the confirmation someone else was now with him with the very clear contact his body had made with another’s.

Harry let his hands tug at the wire leading to his ears, putting a pause to the noise that had swallowed him while for a moment. Ready to form some sort of short apology and be on his way, he took the chance to look up in search of the others eyes.

But what Harry found was something short of what could only be described as some sort of destiny.

Mirroring him, her hand stuffed into one pocket and the other pausing the music that had also seemingly taken her consciousness briefly, stood an old friend. One that haunted him every night, it seemed. Ever since his discovery of her.

“Y/n?” He meant to apologize, he really did. But in that moment he remembered having uttered her name too late all those nights ago, so it seemed that his heart was desperate to get it out in time now. Get her attention and never lose it again.

Her face was one that reflected his own. Eyes flickering up from her phone, mid-stuffing it into the empty pocket, headphones hanging down by her waist. And as hers met his, the whites surrounding the irises grew just as the slight parting of her mouth did. She looked equally as shocked as she did happy, in that moment. The circle of her mouth curling into a slight smile.

“Harry.” She breathed out, sounding breathless, he had taken it away. Seeing him that close, something Y/n had dreamed about for years, felt surreal. She could reach out and touch him, now. That’s how close they were. Like old times.

Harry took the time to inspect her before saying anything else, wanting to take her in a moment longer. Her shoes were just as well loved as all pairs of hers were. And her jeans were just as worn in as the deep blue puffer jacket that just about swallowed her whole in its size. One that had a slight tear in the left sleeve and ripped up fabric on the zipper. One Harry recognized to be his own.

Knowing Y/n had kept the jacket, after all these years, and even still wore it sent something through his body. An electric shock, his heart beating faster, body suddenly getting hot in all these layers. He felt good, seeing her still proudly showing off things that were his, but guilt soon took over.

What if she had only kept it because it was the only thing left to remind her of him? The only thing he had left for her? She wouldn’t have needed to keep it if he had been around. Had stayed by her side like they had dreamed about. His hand in hers.

“Is that my coat?” Harry felt stupid that, that was the question he thought of to break the silence. He could’ve asked her how she’d been, or what she was doing in London, but instead his mind stayed stuck on his jacket, a detail only he would ever realize was so intimate.

She blushed, at his question, looking down briefly as if she had no idea what she was wearing. Downplaying it in her own embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t think you’d want it back. I found it in my closet when I was packing my stuff.” Y/n flashed the warmest smile she could, one that hit directly at Harry’s heart.

“I can’t imagine it smelled too good.” He cracked a smile of his own now. It wasn’t the funniest joke, only one to help lift the heaviness of them meeting, but Y/n still laughed. It was quieter now that it was later and only for him to hear, but it felt just as good as it did all those years ago.

“No, it smelled good. Smelled like you.” Her eyes didn’t leave his when she said it, highlighting the unspoken fact that even after all this time apart, even after he had left her, she still thought of him fondly. She still loved him the same.

“Mm, teenage boy musk.” Harry joked again, feet starting to move, he let his hand find the small of her back, spinning Y/n so she was walking with him now. Something they’d both done half on purpose, but mostly subconsciously. Totally focused on just being beside each other again. Y/n let out a breathy laugh this time, swatting his arm playfully. Harry let out a fake groan, holding his arm even though it didn’t hurt in the slightest. And the sidewalk fell quiet, Y/n searching for what she wanted to say next.

“It smelled like vanilla. Like your old house and that bakery you used to work in. Like childhood.” She couldn’t have described it better. For every lingering scent that had stuck to the fabric in her old closet smelled like growing up. It grounded her. It reminded her that even when she got all big and well known, she always had a place back home. That she could always come back and hide away in her rocket ship bedsheets that Harry had permanently tinted blue after washing them with his.

He loved knowing that she thought of him still, he figured she would like the same.

“You know, I still have every single one of our old shirts.” Our. Not his, not hers. But our. Because that’s what they were, there’s. They shared them. Bought them with the other person in mind, shared them like they’d both bought it. Like they both owned it.

Going back to that, Harry began to realize just how right Y/n was in her description of the jacket. Even though Harry barely wore the shirts anymore, it wasn’t because he stopped loving them. No, they were just as special now as they were back then, but he hadn’t had her like he did then. He didn’t have her constantly around to stick to the shirts and remind him that they also belonged to another. Harry hadn’t worn them because they still smelled of her. Of cinnamon and strawberries. Of early morning breakfast and wet April rain. It smelled like all the places and things she’d done. It smelled like childhood. He worried that if he wore them now, he would lose that one last memory of how she smelled. Of who she was.

But now here he was, right beside Y/n, and she still smelled the same. Sweet and fresh, like she had never left. Harry was sure he smelled just the same now. His scent still vanilla and his love for baking still as strong. He hoped he smelled the same, wished he brought that same closeness to Y/n’s heart as she did to his now.

“They still smell like us.” He wanted to say they smelt of her, but he thought it might be too much. Y/n almost wished he had only said that it smelled of her, but she knew that Harry was always going to be less forward than her. Just a little bit shyer than her in his feelings.

The conversation carried away from their old relics of childhood memories and into more recent things. But the entire time, it flowed just as easy. They’d managed to catch up without really aiming to catch up. It just sort of happened throughout their conversation. Just like their friendship had started, they had shared themselves with one another, shared everything without realizing it. And in it, Harry realized he hadn’t gone to the pharmacy like he intended, but instead had walked past it. He knew that in the morning he would still need those things he’d forgotten, but he wouldn’t be mad. Because now he had something better. He had his Y/n back.

………………………………………………………………………………….

In the next few weeks, Harry and Y/n found themselves with their phones glued to their ears. The others voice filtering through the speakers. They talked everyday again. Hours on end like they used to. They hung out in every free minute they had. Like they were always meant to. In that, they found that they had done so much more than just miss the other. They had longed and desired one another. Always wondering, always thinking about the other.

In the new time spent together, their lives intertwining once more, Y/n realized she never wanted to miss Harry again. She never wanted to loose him like she had before. Her heart had grown too fond of him to let him go. And for Harry, he remembered why he had, had such an intense crush on her when he was just a boy. It was so cheesy, how he had fallen for her so quickly again. But you know what they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder. And they had, had a lot of distance to help that grow.

So the pair became more than friends, it seemed. The best friends enlightening everyone on their long, hard road to each other, all with their hands in one another and Y/n’s lipstick staining the corner of Harry’s mouth.

Harry’s fame had taken him away, but in some sort of luck, hers had brought them back together.

[gurugirl]

Next Door Neighbors

Summary: You just wanted peace and quiet and Harry just wanted to jam out in his garage for his birthday. So you decide to confront your new neighbor but things don't go as you planned.

A/N: Here it is! Sorry I didn't get it out earlier but it's here now! Enjoy this little 🎈 Harry Styles Happy Birthday Treat 🎈xoxo

Word Count: 7.8k

Warning: 18+ only, smut

It was the perfect house with the perfect backyard in the perfect neighborhood. You’d hit the jackpot. Your first big girl purchase. A house with a lovely garden, two bedrooms, a lovely little kitchen with the perfect rays of light that shone in through the big windows all morning. And the neighborhood was nice and quiet where you could enjoy your weekends in peace reading to your heart’s content.

It was a huge upgrade from the apartment life you endured for years while you saved up for just this thing. And you’d finally found it. Things seemed to be coming together for you in life finally.

On Friday after you got off work, Zoya called, asking if you wanted to go out with the girls but you politely declined, “I’m just gonna stay in I think. I hope you don’t mind. Maybe next weekend, Zo.”

You had a bottle of wine tucked under your arm as you held your cell phone to your ear on your way to the checkout lane at the little neighborhood market a few blocks from your house. Your new house. The one with your name on the mortgage.

Your plan was to drink a little wine in your cute new backyard and read a book, just taking in the peace of your new place.

You turned on the twinkle lights over your back porch (your dad had helped you put them up into the trees) and sat down in your outdoor lounge chair with a glass of wine and the book you’d been looking forward to reading. The sun had just gone down and you could hear crickets. A perfect Friday night, in your opinion.

That is until you were twenty pages into your book and suddenly the loud racket of what sounded like obnoxiously loud live music playing from next door had you closing your book and standing up to investigate.

The closer you got the more you could hear the unmistakable sound of a live band playing, the pop of a snare drum, the trill of a guitar... You looked over the wood fence into the driveway of your neighbor’s home and couldn’t see much but you saw lights on inside of the garage and the loud ruckus of a homemade instrumental band.

You didn’t want to be one of those neighbors. One of those awful people who complained about everything their neighbors did. But this was ridiculous. It seemed they had no regard for any of the people that lived around them.

Walking back to what was supposed to be your little oasis you sat down and grumped to yourself about how rude some people could be. You’d give them one hour until you went over there and told them in person to lower the noise.

You’d only been living in your little house for a few days and this was your first Friday night. You had really been looking forward to a peaceful night at home. Not even your second glass of wine could calm you down.

You didn’t know why you were so mad about it. In your apartment, you were bombarded with noise from all the neighbors who shared a wall with you and the loud heard of elephants that lived above you.

But this? It was meant to be your sanctuary. Your place of solitude.

But you’d had it. When an hour had passed and you paced around your backyard getting up the nerve to walk over there you huffed and psyched yourself up as you made your way into the front yard of your neighbor’s house and could see three men inside the wide open garage. A drummer pounding away, and two men standing – one with a guitar and another with a bass.

You stepped into the driveway and clutched your cardigan closer to your chest as you appeared at the threshold of the garage and the music abruptly stopped when the tall one with dark curls laid his eyes on you.

“Hi. You’re the new neighbor,” he raised his hand from the neck of the guitar he had slung over his shoulder and smiled.

You instantly no longer were raging with anger when you heard his voice and realized this was the man you’d seen briefly the morning before as he got into his car. You imagined he was attractive but not this attractive. Tattoos along one arm, thick curls, plush pink lips, dimples…

“Uh… yeah. I just moved in next door a few days ago.�� You looked behind yourself and back toward the men before continuing, “I was hoping you guys could–“

Your voice was cut off by the clash of a symbol then the hit of a snare before the drummer tapped his sticks together, “We’re in the middle of something here in case you didn’t see.”

“Hey… chill. Don’t be rude man,” the curly-headed man with the guitar shot a look at the drummer before looking back at you, “What were you saying? Sorry.”

You shifted on your feet, “I was wondering if you guys could keep it down. It’s so loud and it’s all I can hear while I’m trying to read.”

The guy with the bass guitar spoke, “Oh come on, lady. We hardly ever get to do this.”

Your neighbor began removing his guitar, lifting the strap over his head as he looked at the other two, “Let’s call it a night guys. That’s enough.”

The other two began to grumble as they packed away their things and your neighbor stepped out of the garage in front of you with his hand held out to you, “I’m Harry.”

You smiled and placed your palm against his, “Y/n.”

The drummer came up beside Harry, “Today’s his birthday you know. The only thing he wanted today was to jam out for a bit.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at Harry, “Oh. I didn’t know. I’m sorry… you–“

“Don’t worry about it. We had a good hour. I’m beat anyway. Long week at work.”

The bassist gave Harry a side hug, “I’m gonna head home. See you later, okay? Happy birthday, dude.”

“Oh. I should leave. I’m really sorry again,” you waved as you began to back away.

But Harry stepped in toward you, “Stick around for a minute okay?”

The drummer followed suit, bidding Harry a happy birthday and then getting into his car to drive away as you stood awkwardly at the edge of the garage until it was just you and Harry.

“I’m sorry. I feel really bad that they left. And it’s your birthday too? I’ll… do you want a bottle of wine or something? Let me grab you a bottle as a gift and an apology…”

Harry grinned at you and shook his head, “Mind if I come with you? I’d love to see the inside of the house. Never got the chance to see it before. That can be your birthday gift to me.”

You noted the smirk on his face, his confident posture, and then you realized he had crystalline green eyes. Something in the way he was looking at you gave you those ridiculous butterflies in your tummy.

“Yeah. Of course, Harry.” You turned and he followed behind you as you led him into your backyard, closing the gate behind yourself.

“This is the backyard. I’m gonna put in some flowers over there,” you pointed, “And maybe do something with the porch at some point.”

Harry looked around the backyard briefly before he put his gaze back on you as you opened up your door to let him inside. You were sure you were insane to be letting your neighbor, whom you did not know, into our house with you alone at night, but you only live once, isn’t that what they say?

“Kitchen,” you gestured your hand and then moved through into the living room where Harry trailed behind you and looked around.

“It’s nice. I like how big the windows are. Always was jealous of how big they are compared to mine.”

You looked up at him and smiled, “It’s one of the reasons I bought the place. The window in the kitchen overlooking the backyard kind of sealed the deal for me. Lots of great light comes in for most of the day.”

“I bet it does,” he kept his eyes on you and your tummy was still fluttering about.

“Over here is the bedroom,” you flipped on the switch, “It’s got its own full bathroom. Tiny but I like it.” You turned to move down the hall and flipped on the switch to the hallway bathroom, “Another bathroom, here,” and then moved to the final door, pushing it open to an empty room, “And at some point, I’ll furnish this. It’ll be like an office, guest room sort of thing.”

You turned off the light and looked back at Harry who was standing right behind you.

“Thank you, for showing me around.”

You felt your face warm up as you looked at him. You liked how he said your name. Liked how his lips moved around his words when he spoke.

“Of course. Um… do you want any wine? I was a glass and a half into a bottle if you want to finish it with me?”

That was an easy yes from Harry. You brought your glass in from outside and pulled out a clean one for your neighbor before pouring a bit of the burgundy liquid inside for him.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” you held your glass out to him and he tapped the edge of his glass to yours, “Sorry that I ruined it, though. I kind of feel awful.”

Harry shook his head, “Don’t be sorry. Like I said, it was a long week at work and we had a good hour anyway. Plus this is nice. Getting to know my neighbor,” he took a sip of his wine.

“How old are you today?” You took a sip of your wine as you watched him.

“30,” he sighed, “Grown adult officially.” He smiled.

You laughed at his remark and nodded, “Yes, 30 marks the official entry into adulthood. That’s my belief as well.”

You really liked Harry. He was easy to talk to and you decided he made you feel very comfortable.

“So, you’re a musician?” You raised your brows.

He shook his head and chuckled, “Well, I like to sing and play instruments. I’m not really great or anything. Just a hobby. Used to be in a band in college but then I realized I had to get a real job and figure out how to pay my bills and get along in life.”

You leaned your bottom into your kitchen counter and smiled at him, “Oh yeah. I know all about that. Would be nice if we could make good money just doing our hobbies so we didn’t have to get real jobs,” you laughed, “What do you do for work?”

“I’m an electrical contractor. Have a small business with three employees. It’s hard work but it pays well. Most of the time.”

You smiled. He continued to get more attractive the more he talked and the more you learned. It didn’t hurt that you could tell he was in incredibly great shape as well. He was tall, his shoulders were broad and his shirt stretched tightly over the lats at his back and hung loosely where his waist was, indicating a nice healthy build and upper body strength. His arms were lean muscle and even his thighs filled out the tops of his jeans so you understood it wasn’t just his upper body that was well-muscled.

You heard Harry chuckle as you darted your eyes back up to his. You’d been caught checking him out. You hadn’t meant to let your eyes scrape down his frame but… well. Here you were.

“And what do you do, Y/n?”

Harry kept his sight on you as he sipped from his glass. His sultry gaze was doing things to your hormones and making your heart pump a little harder behind your ribcage.

“I’m the general manager at SpendCo,” you laughed and shrugged, “Not a fancy job but I like it. Good benefits. Was able to save up for this place,” you gestured your hand around the kitchen.

“My job’s not fancy either,” Harry laughed, “But yeah. It’s steady work. A good paycheck.”

You nodded. You could relate in some ways. You’d gone to school for business but wound up working your way up from the bottom at SpendCo. When you started you were making just over minimum wage as a cashier, but now you worked in the office, Monday through Friday (no more weekends for you) and had shift managers and employees working under you. It felt good to be the boss.

“Wanna sit in the living room? Couch is brand new. In fact, I’ve hardly even had the chance to sit in it myself.”

“Yeah. Let’s break that couch in, Y/n,” Harry grinned as he nudged you with his shoulder.

Oh?

You laughed at his comment but decided to not take it the way you imagined he meant. Of course, he obviously meant just sitting on it and breaking it in that way. Certainly, there were no innuendos behind his words.

You didn’t have a proper coffee table yet so you pulled an empty bin with a lid to the front of the couch, “We’ll use this to put our glasses on. Still not done decorating or buying things I need, as you can tell.”

Harry sat his glass down on the plastic lid of the bin and pointed at your stereo setup next to the TV, “Can I put on some music?”

“Yeah, sure,” you smiled as you took another sip of your wine and watched your handsome neighbor get up and turn on your stereo and speakers. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and searched for the Bluetooth to connect and a song began to play over your speakers.

“Like Chris Isaak?” Harry asked as he sat down on the couch, right next to you, his knee knocking into yours.

“Yeah… I think. I’ve heard this song before anyway,” you smiled as you looked down at your thighs.

Harry leaned his back into the cushion and you felt him shifting next to you, his arm propped up on the back of the seat behind you.

“So where did you live before you moved in here?”

You turned your head to look at him before placing your eyes safely on the plastic bin, “In an apartment over in Roger’s Park. Nice little neighborhood. But I hated living in an apartment. Lugging groceries up three flights of stairs every time I went shopping. I mean I got used to it but still…” you laughed.

“Oh yeah. I know what you mean. I used to live in an apartment too. Actually also in Roger’s Park… but that was like five years ago.”

You peeked at him with your brows raised, “Yeah? You lived in Roger’s Park too? What area?”

“Off Grand near the big bus terminal.”

“Wait. For real? At Sheraton Oaks?”

Harry furrowed his brows and squinted, “Yes. Shit. Is that where you lived?”

“It is. 3rd floor. Apartment 10.”

Harry turned his body toward you, his thigh flush against yours, “No fucking way, Y/n. I lived in apartment 10,” he pointed his thumb at himself with a wide surprised grin on his face.

You shook your head and looked at him in disbelief, “That’s wild. How funny that two people who used to live in the same apartment at different times became next-door neighbors. What are the chances?”

Harry laughed, “Seems quite unlikely in such a big city.”

You and Harry sat facing one another in amazement as a new song came on.

“You okay?” Harry’s pupils ran over your features and you saw him looking at your lips as he poked his tongue out to wet his own.

“Yeah. Why?”

Harry softly smiled as he lifted his hand to your face and you felt the pad of his thumb press into your cheek, “You’re biting the inside of your cheeks. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t nervous or something.”

You puffed out a laugh and shook your head, “No. I’m not nervous. Sometimes I chew on the inside of my cheeks. Bad habit.”

Harry nodded shallowly with his eyes on you but he didn’t respond. Instead, he reached for his glass and took a sip of wine.

“So… um…” you glanced at him and shot your eyes to his hand that held the stem of the glass. His hands were nice and big and you noticed he had his nails painted, alternating blue and yellow.

“So, um… What? What were you gonna say?”

You gulped and forced yourself to look into his eyes. He was so handsome and you were beginning to get hot all over. He was too close (not that that was a bad thing), his thigh was solid against yours, and his eyes were drawing something out of you. He was alluring.

“I don’t…” you shook your head, “Forgot what I was gonna say.”

Harry pulled his lips into his mouth, a muted grin on his face as you watched dimples carve into his cheeks. Like he knew what you were thinking.

“I like this sweater,” he gestured toward your cardigan and you looked down at it. It was knitted with a cat playing with a ball of yarn on the left side.

“My aunt bought it for me for Christmas last year,” you smiled and as you brought your eyes up you noticed he was wearing a necklace but you couldn’t see the whole thing as it was tucked under his t-shirt.

He pulled at a button on your cardigan and cocked his head as he looked at you, “Are you sure you’re okay, Y/n? Do you want me to leave?”

Your eyes widened, “Oh no. This is nice. I… I’m okay. Honestly.”

“Okay. You just seem a little frazzled. Want to make sure I’m not doing anything that’s making you uncomfortable.”

You shook your head, “No. You’re great. You haven’t done anything to make me uncomfortable.” You bit your bottom lip into your mouth and tried to give off an air of calm and confidence like Harry was but he was something else. He was so incredibly attractive and the eye contact was making you slowly melt. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to what it would be like to kiss him.

He grinned, one side of his mouth pulling upward, “I see.”

You watched as he took a deep breath and placed his wine glass back down before looking back into your eyes, “So, um… can I ask you a personal question?”

You nodded, “Yeah. Sure.”

“Do you have a boyfriend or…?”

Your brows raised upward, “Oh. Uh, no. No boyfriend,” you put your hands into your lap and fiddled with your fingers, “And, uh… you? Significant other?”

A breathy laugh fell from his chest as he shook his head, “Nope.” He popped the p as he responded.

You nodded and looked down at the hand that he’d placed over his thigh. His pinky was pressed into your leg. You were sure he was giving you some kind of signal. All the signs were there. His body language, eye contact, asking you about a boyfriend, and the nearness of him… He was so close you could smell the soap he used.

“Mmm…” you racked your brain to think of anything to say, “How long have you lived here?”

He licked his lips again, “Five years. Moved out of Sheraton Oaks and then bought the house next door.”

You smiled, “So that means I moved in right after you moved out.”

Harry slowly moved his hand further toward your leg and you felt his pinky and ring finger press into your leggings before subtly bending his pinky finger out to rub the fabric under his digit, “Sounds like we have a lot in common.”

“Yeah. Guess so,” you gave him a weak smile and looked down at his hand.

“Am I overstepping?”

You shook your head and looked up at him.

“No? What about if I kissed you? Is that too much?”

Your breath caught in your lungs as you kept your eyes pinned to his and shook your head again.

“No, it’s not too much? Or no you don’t want me to kiss you?”

You swallowed and your heart bounced around in your chest so wildly you could almost hear it, “No, it’s not too much.”

The smile on Harry’s face was soft as he looked from your eyes to your mouth, “It’s okay then? You don’t mind the birthday boy stealing a kiss from his cute neighbor?”

That pulled a laugh from you just as he hoped it would, “I’d like that I think.”

Harry slid his free hand up to the side of your neck, his thumb at the base of your jaw close to your ear, “Last chance to say no.”

You laughed again and placed your palm over the top of his hand that had fully moved over your thigh, “Kiss me.”

The slow movement of his face toward yours, the nudge of his nose to your skin, hot puffs of breath spreading over your cheek, soft lips brushing against the edge of your mouth, before he finally pressed his smooth pink lips against yours was alchemic. Something about him, about the way he handled himself and spoke to you and devoured you with his eyes… But with his mouth against yours, his thumb softly rubbing at your jaw, and his hand moving to fit his fingers between yours as he kept it pressed over your thigh you felt electrified.

And he tasted like mint and smelled like soap and his lips were smooth and moist against yours. Your Friday night had already turned out far better than you imagined it would.

Yeah. Making out on your new couch in your new house with your new neighbor was way better.

You slid the palm of your free hand up his shoulder and to the nape of his neck as his own grip on the side of your neck and jaw tightened the slightest.

But your mind was on his mouth. The heat coming from his touch. The way his tongue slid through your lips to beckon them open…

Harry pulled at your hand and urged you toward his lap. Parting your legs you sat down over the spread of his thighs, settling yourself as close to him as possible.

He slid his hands up your thighs and you felt ravenous. It was as if sitting in his lap made it so much more real. He was moving things along and you were keeping pace.

You pressed your tongue against his and softly rocked your hips down. As your pelvis tilted against Harry, he moaned into your mouth and it was the hottest thing you’d ever heard.

“Fuck. You still good?” He parted from the kiss, keeping his nose bumped against yours.

You breathed out a yes as you nodded and when you lifted your face your lips brushed against his and it started all over again. Lips smothered over lips and tongues wetly dragging against tongues.

Harry’s hands inched up to your hips and you pressed your fingers into the back of his neck, feeling his pulse, steady and strong under your skin.

He lapped over your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth and then dropped his cushiony lips down to your jaw, peppering damp kisses under the space of your chin and over your neck.

You loved having your neck kissed. Not just loved it… you craved it. The feel of a man’s breath and mouth and tongue and nose against your pulse point and the delicate skin that wrapped over blood pumping through your arteries had your skin tingling.

Another rock of your hips down and you felt the obvious swell of something growing under his jeans. He hissed and you backed away from his mouth, not knowing if his sharp inhale was from pain or if he liked the slide of the fabric over your crotch pressing against him.

When you looked at his eyes he was a different man. His pupils had widened and his plush pink lips were wet and parted, nostrils taking in air heavily as you felt his fingers dig into your hips.

“Did I hurt you?” You brought one of your hands toward his jaw feeling the light scruff along the bone under your knuckles.

He shook his head, “No. Not at all. But I do need to reposition.”

You looked down between your bodies and moved back on his thighs to give him space but before your brain could connect to your motions you were reaching down for his button to unpluck from the thick jean fabric. He gently lifted his hips as you unzipped his pants and then you looked at him as you pushed the bottom hem of his shirt upward over the band of his underwear.

“You wanna help?” He spoke breathily as you nodded and pulled the elastic away from his skin with one hand and used the other to reach under the fabric. It was sparse hair and skin and then and then denser hair and warmth until you felt him tucked awkwardly to the side against his pelvis.

The small coo that fell from your mouth was involuntary as you wrapped your hand around him. Hot and thick in your hand. He inhaled sharply again when he felt your palm on his cock as you helped guide him upright.

Your breath was unsteady and shallow as you kept your eyes on Harry’s, “God, Harry.”

“What?” His teasing smirk gave away that he knew what. He knew his cock was big and watching your reaction to that was pleasing.

You gulped and peeked down at it, your hand still holding the fabric away from his hips. A swollen, smooth ruddy colored tip that matched the pink of his lips. The length of which pushed out from the top of the band and sat perfectly in between two fern tattoos at his hips along the bare part of his skin.

“It’s…” you looked back up at him, “It’s nice.”

Harry breathed out a laugh, “Nice? Why thank you.” He grinned.

But then you felt his fingers slide under your t-shirt, pushing the fabric up slowly until his skin was pressed into your sides. It felt like he was urging you to remove your shirt so you did. Pulling your cardigan off first you let it fall to the floor at Harry’s feet before you peeled your t-shirt off.

Harry was surprised to see you weren’t wearing a bra. It had been easy enough to hide under the knitted sweater you figured, so you never put a bra on when you went to confront him earlier. And of course, you weren’t wearing one. It was meant to be a quiet Friday night in. There had been no need.

He pushed his hands up your sides until his fingers were wrapped around your ribs with his thumbs pressing into the soft plump underside of your tits.

You watched him take you in. Your nipples were straining and goosebumps littered your flesh as he ghosted his thumbs along the sensitive tissue.

It felt like so much. You had never done anything remotely sexual with someone you didn’t know. But Harry was hot and you were turned on. So much so that you could feel the dampness in your panties.

You reached back to his chest, pulling at his shirt. You wanted to see more. Wanted to know what he looked like underneath it all. You knew he was fit. And you were positive there were more tattoos hidden away under the material of his shirt.

With his eyes on yours, he moved his hands away from your breasts and pulled his shirt off, taking the back and bringing it over his head at the front. You got a glimpse of the necklace he wore. A white gold cross that slapped against his chest when it caught on the fabric of his shirt as he removed it.

You had been right. His body was defined and strong. Bulky muscular pecs and toned abs. Inked skin from his clavicle to the butterfly under his pectorals and down to the ferns, where his cock poked out of the top of his underwear.

Pressing your palms over his pecs you smoothed your hands down over his nipples and to the butterfly tattoo underneath.

Harry put his hands on your hips again while you admired his torso and you felt his fingers dip under the waistband of your dark-colored tights. Another signal. A question seeking approval for more.

Drawing your eyes up to his you put your hands over his fingers and pushed the material down with him.

Of course, sitting in his lap hindered too much movement but he understood your hint as he pushed you up by your hips and you found yourself being moved off of his lap to your back on the couch.

“Still good, Y/n?” He looked at you with those dark pupils, an air of respectful authority. He made your skin boil.

You nodded, “I’m good.”

Harry began to pull at the stretchy fabric, bringing it down your hips and over your thighs til your knees were free and then he lifted your legs so he could get the leggings off your feet.

When your pants were on the floor, he still had your legs held upward, one hand at the back of your ankles and you peered down at him indulging in the sight of your skin at the back of your thighs and down to your bottom covered in your panties.

You saw a grin on his face as he brought your legs down before he stood up and pulled his jeans off his legs.

His body was so strong and masculine. He could easily dominate you, the thought briefly crossed your mind as you watched the muscles in his arms flex, his abs clench, and the sinew on his powerful-looking thighs bulge as he steadied himself one leg at a time until his jeans were off and he was only clad in his underwear with dark inky designs on his skin and even on his thigh.

He kneed himself down onto the couch, hovering over you as you naturally spread your legs to allow him space between your thighs.

And the feel of his hard shaft pressing over your mound before his lips dropped down to yours once again had you dazed. It almost didn’t feel real.

“So fucking hot, Y/n…” he whispered against your lips, “Made me so hard.”

You gasped when he rocked himself down over you, fabric rubbing against fabric until your arousal had seeped through your panties and began wetting his underwear.

He moaned and parted from this kiss, “You’re all wet.” He slid himself upward and then back with a grin. “You like that?”

You nodded with a moan.

“Yeah? What else do you want, Y/n? Hm? Want to get rid of these panties?”

You moved your shaky hands down your hips and pushed at the fabric to bring them down. All you wanted was him. Your hormones were screaming at you and all you could think about was his big cock and how it would feel sliding inside of you.

Harry laughed at how enthusiastic you seemed and moved back to help you remove your panties, “Okay. We can get these off. Mind if I lose my underwear too?”

You sat up and reached for the band of his briefs as he began to push them down until he was completely bare before you.

His cock hung heavy outward, pointing toward you, like it was beckoning to be touched so you did, reaching for him and taking your palm from his tip to his base until your hand hit the dark thatch of hair and then pulled back up to his smooth head.

“I want it. Want to feel it, Harry.” You looked at him as you pumped him again.

He groaned as he watched your small hand move along his length.

“Do you have a condom?”

You swallowed and paused your motions. You definitely did not have a condom. Which was quite unfortunate because that could only mean sex was not going to happen unless he had one and was willing to go to his house to get it.

Shaking your head no you frowned.

Harry licked his lips and trailed his eyes over your tits and down your tummy, “S’okay. Plenty of other ways to have fun.”

You whined as you looked down at your hand. You had really wanted to feel that big thing wrecking your insides.

Harry took your chin and tilted your face to look up at him, “What’s wrong?”

You inhaled and let go of his pretty dick, “I wanted to feel you so bad.”

He pressed his mouth against yours, soft reassuring kisses had your heart strumming in your chest.

“Well I would hate to disappoint you,” he grinned, “Want to go to mine? I’ve got condoms. We’ll just have to put some clothes back on.”

You nodded and pushed yourself up, quickly pulling your cardigan on and slipping your leggings back up your legs.

Harry liked how desperate you seemed. That was quite the ego boost. He put his shirt back on and pulled his jeans up but left the zipper down as he clutched the fabric to keep it up.

“Guess that’s good enough for breaking your couch in, yeah?”

You laughed and nodded, “Was a good first use for it I think.”

Harry laughed as he took your hand and you two made your way out your front door to his, hurrying over grass under bare feet and small chuckles until you were in the safety and privacy of his living room. He kept your hand in his until he got to his bedroom where he pulled his shirt off and you followed suit, ridding yourself of the annoying clothing you’d had to put back on.

But you knew it was going to be worth it.

Harry dug into his bedside table for a condom and laid it on top of the wood before looking back at you, “You still want this?”

You nodded and climbed onto his bed. The tunnel vision you had was keeping your mind from wandering too far off course as you watched Harry stroke his cock, long pulls up and down to his base as he crawled after you onto his bed.

You easily opened up your legs for him to fit his hips between and felt his warm cock slipping through your folds, rubbing against your clit.

“So slippery, Y/n.” You knew you were as he drove himself over your labia, smoothing his cock against your arousal back and forth.

A shaky moan fell from your throat and Harry grinned as he smeared his lips against your mouth.

He worked himself up and down, wetting the outside of his cock and his tip as he inched through your pussylips smoothly.

You loved his mouth. Loved how he kissed you. It was raw and felt like he gave a damn. Felt like he was enjoying your mouth just as much as you enjoyed his.

Finally, he pushed himself back and reached for his condom looking at you, “Do want anything else first? Or do just want my cock?”

You looked down at his hard dick with your arousal spread all over him and it was all you wanted.

“I want your cock,” your words were breathy as you looked up into his eyes.

“Yeah? A greedy little thing aren’t you?” Harry began to pull the condom over his shaft, pinching the tip as he dragged the rubber down as far as it would reach before settling himself back against your hips, pushing your thighs back slightly, “So desperate for it,” he nudged his cock down against your pussy and then slid it up to your clit teasingly, “Couldn’t wait to have me inside you. Insisted on it even,” he grinned as he tormented you with his wide girth slipping back and forth against your cunt.

You tilted your hips up and groaned, trying to get him to push inside but he continued his taunting movements, “Now, now… so impatient. I’ll give you what you want soon enough sweetheart. But today’s my birthday so I get to control the pace. Don’t want you getting all bossy with me.”

You moaned and slid your hands over his shoulders as you rolled your hips upward again, kissing his slit with your entrance but this time he placed a hand over your thigh and held you in place, “Is it that bad, Y/n?”

You nodded, “Please, Harry.”

“Mmm… love a well-mannered lady. You gonna be good for me?”

You sighed and you would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t so horny, so out of your mind desperate, “I’m gonna be good. Please.”

“Yeah? Cause once I slide inside of you there’s no turning back.”

You gripped his shoulders tight and groaned, “Please.”

The feel of his warm, heavy cock smeared against your clit was almost too much. In fact, you could probably come from that alone if given enough time.

“So sweet for me, Y/n,” Harry took the thigh he’d been holding down and brought your leg over his low back, smoothing his hand over your skin as he positioned himself at your entrance.

The moment you felt him pressing his bulbous head through your slick muscle you dropped your mouth open and moaned but then his mouth caught yours and the noises you were making became muffled as he moved his lips against your mouth.

You knew he was going to split you in half. The slow glide of his cock inside your warm walls was intense. Inch by inch he pushed in as his lips were wrapped around yours.

Holding onto his lats you lifted your hips against his as he slid back and then buried himself into the hilt. You gasped into his mouth at the ache of him nudging into your guts and then pulling back to his tip only to slide himself back in. Working you open slowly, he continued to drive into your cunt with gushy wet noises coming from your pussy as he stretched you open.

You appreciated him plunging in slowly and easing you into fitting around his cock properly. You liked the warmup but more than that, you needed him to destroy your pussy.

When he felt you bucking upward into him he parted his mouth from yours and sat back with his knees bent. You saw him watching the space where he was connected with your cunt as he continued rolling into you.

His abs were flexing as he steadied himself in and out. You gasped when he began to fuck into you a little faster, his cock sliding through your walls and bumping into all the slick bits on your insides.

A gurgled moan fell from your lips as he smacked his hips into yours. The patting of his balls against your ass came out in wet thuds. Your tits bounced with every long stroke into your tummy and he was panting as he let his eyes scan over your body and up to your pretty face.

“Taking me so well, Y/n. Making me leak into my condom already, pussy’s so good.”

You both moaned as he drove into you, his mattress under you giving way to the force of his thrusts.

“Feels so good, Harry…” you panted.

“Yeah?” He bucked inward and ground against you, swiveling his hips and you gasped at the deep press into your cervix.

His fingers were pinching into your thighs as he stuffed himself in and you gripped his forearms for leverage and lifted your neck to watch as his cock disappeared into your body over and over again.

His shaft was coated with your shiny arousal as he slid in and out, your pussy gripping around his skin perfectly.

Harry’s moans were growing louder as he continued fucking into you wetly, hips slamming against yours making his balls strike into your ass.

His thighs were flexing as he rocked against you while your body was shivering and feeling the bliss of getting an itch scratched that you’d been needing.

You felt his right hand release your thigh and then watched him press his thumb over your slippery clit.

You let out a pathetic cry of relief when he smoothed the pad of his digit in circles on your bud, “Yes! Oh god!”

Harry coughed out a moan as he watched your face twist up, “That feel good, Y/n?”

You focused your sight on his eyes and nodded, “Yes…”

The grin on his face could have been akin to something cocky but your brain was mush as you let him wreck you with deep strokes into your tummy, wet and sloppy, dripping arousal down your ass.

The springs in his mattress were bouncing in time with his thrusts and the wooden frame on his bed creaked when he jerked his hips forward into you.

“Just like that, huh? Pussy needed fucked, yeah?” Harry’s words were coming out tight and shaky. You could hear it in his voice how good it felt for him too.

He pressed down and moved his thumb deliciously over your puffy clit as his cock punched into your organs and tissue making you throw your head back and close your eyes arching your back upward.

Harry loved the sight; your sloppy wet pussy spreading apart for his cock as you arched your back like the sexy thing you were, soft tits swaying every time he buried himself in balls deep, lips parted, neck long and stretched out as you breathily moaned his name, “Hh… Harry…”

He could watch you like this all night. Stretches of skin covered in goosebumps as if you were cold, hard nipples at the center of your wobbly squeezable tits, soft tummy clenching, and wet pussy ruined and clenching around him.

The way he was smushing and circling his thumb over your clit had your head fuzzy and your heart racing. But then he leaned over you and pressed his other hand over your low tummy as he fucked into you, pushing against your insides and making the space he was invading with his cock feel tighter as he slid upward and nudged into your guts.

“Gahhh…” you let out a gasped moan when his hand pressed into your stomach.

“Does that feel good, Y/n?” Harry’s eyes were on yours as he drove himself into you.

You nodded and scrunched your brows upward when your insides began to twist with your pussy stretching around him indulgently.

Your legs began to quiver from the strain of your muscles as you felt your orgasm nearing. Everything he was doing to you set your body alight. You reached for his strong biceps and dug your fingers in tight gasping at the depth of him.

“Be good for me, honey… there you go,” he spoke through clenched teeth, holding back his release, “Right there, huh? Feels good like that?”

You whimpered with a nod as you pinned your eyes to his. The expression on his face was lusty and filled with need as he dipped into you, pasting his hips against yours now, only fucking inward, pressing solidly against your insides.

You cried out when you felt the small burst and snap of your orgasm and he quickly moved his hands from your tummy and clit, leaning his hips against yours before pressing his palms into the mattress on either side of your shoulders and angling his body so he could pound into you and fuck you through your orgasm. The way his pelvis smushed against your clit, hips grinding against you as he pulled back and then forced his way through your opening to bury himself deep inside sent you over the edge.

You clung to his shoulders as you spasmed around his fat cock, slipping deep inside of you with a wet squelch as he reared back to his tip before rutting into the hilt.

Your vision and hearing grew muted as you came so you couldn’t hear him clearly when he babbled off nonsense, “Shit! Squeezing the fuck out of me, honey! Oh my god, that feels good. So fucking hot. Gonna make me come so hard…”

Harry’s hips struck against you repeatedly until his balls constricted and tightened and then he was pumping into his condom, his muscles stiffening with his hips pressed into yours, mashing your body into the mattress underneath you.

He choked out a moan as his cock spurted his release, throbbing and twitching inside of you as you panted at how hard he’d come. The front of his thighs were pressed into the back of yours, holding you down with his hips as he drained every drop of his come into his condom.

Then it was silent. The sound of sex and moaning was quieted and the bed was no longer creaking and thumping.

Harry pressed his chest against your tits and you felt his plushy lips on yours again and you sighed against his mouth. Slowly your ears stopped ringing and you smoothed your hands up his strong back.

He pushed his face into your neck and his warm breath dampened your skin, “Happy fucking birthday to me,” he laughed.

You grinned with a tiny giggle and opened your eyes before running your fingers into his thick curls.

When he’d pushed himself up to look down at you, you couldn’t get over how adorably handsome your neighbor was. He was sexy as hell and yet so cute at the same time.

“You all right?” His raspy voice was quiet as he searched your face and brought a hand up to your temple, his thumb drawing over your skin.

The grin on your face should have told him as much as you nodded, “Very much all right.” You puffed out a laugh.

He laughed with you and smiled widely, dimples appearing in his cheeks, “Well, welcome to the neighborhood, Y/n.”

Raising a hand up to his jaw you nodded, a cheeky grin still stretched over your mouth, “And happy birthday to you, Harry.”

Part 2

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @icumforbaldrry @harrrrystylesslut @straightontilmornin @elidoho @bananabk9756

[sparkrls]

delayed proposal

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry’s got a few secrets up his sleeve and Y/N just wants to know if he’s going to propose

Author’s Note: this is the blurb i was talking about with bandmates!harry x y/n. remember to like and reblog because i crave validation. love ya <3

Word Count: 1.1k

•••

“Are you going to propose soon?” Was the last question Harry expected to be uttered out of Y/N’s bright pink lips.

It was just another Sunday night, the couple trying to enjoy those last fleeting moments of weekend relaxation before Monday arrived with the usual burden and obligations of being working adults.

In little less than 12 hours, Y/N would be back to her 9-5 job being an assistant to a high-class executive of a finance company. Her boss had too much authority for being so irresponsible and more money than anyone would need in a lifetime. What a luxury it must be to have your dad pass down a company you didn’t know how to run down to you.

Her boss wasn’t a horrible person, he was quite respectful and kind when asking her to do tasks, he was just a very exploitative executive. He had learned from his father to be unbending and demanding.

Y/N’s work paid a good wage, enough for her to pay her bills and still have a bit left. She wasn’t one to buy luxuries, though, preferring to save money up so she could one day quit her 9-5. And then dedicate herself to the things she did every day after work: picked up her red electric guitar, adorned a black skirt that bordered on too short, and perform for (currently small) crowds of people who cheered her band on as they played.

There wasn’t anything Y/N loved quite as much as the rush of being on stage, the bass making the stage shake with each loud thrum, sticks clashing with plates of a drum and the velvet voice of an angel, Harry singing through the microphone and his eyes on her and her fingers moving over the fret of the guitar.

They played small clubs and rundown bars, getting payed a poor wage for the extrenous effort used to get four adults with full time jobs to align their schedules in order to rehearse. Sometimes all they got were free drinks, but they took what they could get and did it for the love of it.

That was how they got here, on Harry’s couch, his arm draped around her shoulders, and her head on his chest. They were watching Bluey, the way they did most nights they spent together. He would always roll his eyes when Y/N suggested it, pretending to hate it, but she knew it was his favorite show, and he always cried at the emotional episodes.

Their instruments lay forgotten on the table, his blue guitar next to her red one, as they’d spent most of the afternoon drinking beer and writing a new song.

It was a question that had been lingering in the back of Y/N’s mind, and she wasn’t quite sure why she chose that moment to blurt it out, but she did. “Are you going to propose soon?”

Harry’s gaze turned to her, eyebrows raised in light surprise, a small breath exhaled between his lips in a faint chuckle. “What?”

It was too late to take it back, so Y/N sat up and told him, “You’ve always talked about wanting to settle down and get married.” His features remained in small confusion. “We’ve been together for a while. Are you going to marry me?”

“Well, of course I’m going to marry you,” Harry said, like it were some scientific fact that everyone knew and was unchangeable. “You’re my forever, baby. I’ve written about a hundred songs about it.” His lips turned up in a smile. That smile he wore every time he told her he loved her, with a cocky and smug edge as if he were teasing her, laced with affection.

“I don’t mean we have to get married this instant, but I just, I guess we’ve never talked about if we were getting engaged or when and I-“

“Baby,” Harry cut off her nervous rambling, chuckling. He kissed her, soft lips with cracked edges from the cold and dry weather. “I already know what ring I’m going to buy. I’m just saving up for it.”

Y/N’s mind blanked for a moment. “You’re already thinking about rings?” Her lips parted in surprise.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, silly girl. You’re not the only one thinking about marriage.” He smiled at her, reassuring her that he was just teasing. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, still in shock. Here she was, getting all nervous and insecure about marriage and he had already been planning to propose. Her question now seemed a bit foolish. She looked up at him and said, “You know I don’t need some needlessly expensive ring, right? You could buy it on Aliexpress and I couldn’t care less.”

Harry looked at her with slight amusement. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said with a small nod. “It’s stupid to spend money on a ring when it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

Harry sighed. “Baby, it’s not about the ring being expensive. It’s about the ring being a symbol for my devotion to you. And I want my devotion to be apparent in the beauty of it.” He tapped the finger on her left hand where the ring would lay. “No, I don’t have to spend money on an expensive ring. That’s why I’m not just getting a huge diamond. I’m getting something you’ll love.”

“But it’s expensive and it’s a waste of money on a simple ring-“

“Is it just a ring? Or is it a symbol of matrimony, of us being together forever?” Harry said gently, correcting her statement. “Not to mention you’re going to be wearing that ring every day ‘till you die.”

Y/N made a sound of contradiction. “Unless we get a divorce.”

Harry stared at her blankly for a few moments. He deadpanned, “Not funny.”

“Kinda funny,” Y/N said with a small smile.

She waited for Harry’s stern gaze to soften with adoration the way it always did. It only took a few moments for his composure to crumble and he leaned in close to her. His nose grazed against hers as he muttered quietly, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

The way he said it sounded like a declaration of love. Everything he said to her did. Because his love could never be called in to doubt. It shone through every word he uttered, every song he wrote, every thing he did.

His lips locked onto hers once again, the tension in his muscles melting away as if all he needed to feel complete was to be pressed against her. To have every inch of skin surrounding her, the taste of beer still on her tongue, and the scent of spring enveloping his senses.

“I’m going to marry you,” Harry uttered, an oath murmured against her lips before placing a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her close once again.

[ifancyharry]

what it is: YN is Harry’s personal assistant and she gets sick, but he’s playing Wembley

word count: 4k

The air is crisp and clean as YN steps out of her hotel into the streets of London, hurrying down the sidewalk as she scurries to the first pharmacy she can find. 

It’s 7.54 in the morning and she’s been awake for almost twenty-four hours. Not on purpose, obviously. And not on her boss’s orders either, despite having there been nights the team deemed important and she was required to pull an all nighter, but those were usually times of celebrations, either spent at an afterparty or waiting until midnight for Spotify to release the album everyone had been working hard on.

The air hurts her lungs as she stops to catch her breathing, the pounding behind her temples not dimming the slightest as she trespasses the sliding doors of the pharmacy, only intensifying with the bright artificial lights shining down on her from the ceiling.

She pulls her sunglasses out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and slides them over her eyes, relishing in the temporary relief washing over her sensitive eyes.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out, grimacing at the name on the screen; it’s her boss, Harry, asking her what time she’s ready to leave for the venue. 

Once her turn comes, she quickly explains her symptoms to the pharmacist and just as quickly she pays for the medicine the pharmacist has taken out for her.

She walks out of the pharmacy and types back a short response to Harry, telling him she’s on her way to his room.

She hopes the medicine she has stuffed in her pocket will make her feel better, and she thinks as she’s making her way back to the hotel that she’ll ask Harry to stop along the way to grab a coffee, hoping it will soothe the tension behind her temples. There’s no way she can be sick when her boss is playing at Wembley for the first time.

…

Harry isn’t one to comment on other people’s appearances, his mum taught him that and it has stuck with him since he was a little kid, a sort of an unspoken rule out of kindness, and therefore he’s never asked if someone was sick because they weren’t wearing makeup or if someone had eaten a little more over the holidays.  He never considered other people’s looks something that concerned his range of business, but once he sees YN, he can’t help but wonder if she’s okay.

Her hair is tied in a messy braid, and there’s some strands falling out of it and in front of her eyes. She’s wearing a big love on tour sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants, but that isn’t particularly concerning, because he’s used to her comfy articles of clothing. 

What’s concerning is her face… and Harry already feels bad for thinking that, but she doesn’t look like herself. And Harry would know. Of course he would know, because he spends a lot of time looking at her face, especially when she’s not looking, most of the times when she’s reading a book next to him in a moment of rest or when she’s answering emails on Monday mornings. So… he knows her. He knows her skin looks paler than normal, and the circles under her eyes aren’t the same as that one time they partied all night after Harry won album of the year at the Grammys.

He wants to ask if she’s okay, because after a year of working together they have that kind of confidence, but he doesn’t want that to be the first thing he says to her, so he just smiles at her and welcomes her with a side hug and a good morning.

“Hi” she’s quick to greet back, and Harry notices even her voice sounds scruffier than usual.

“Are you ready to go?” She asks a second later.

“Yeah, yeah, the car’s down already?” He asks surprised. Sometimes it takes a while before the drivers find the hotel, and YN and Harry spend that time watching videos on youtube or talking about the day’s schedule.

YN shrugs but doesn’t say anything in response, which is weird to Harry because she’s usually really bright and energetic in the morning, and she’s really meticulous on top of everything: she never lets him wait without finding something to pass the time first.

“Let’s just stay until we don’t know for certain” he suggests.

She agrees with a nod of her head and she heads to his bed, sitting down on the end of it. It’s not uncommon for her, because she’s always in his space, and there have been times where they were forced to basically sleep in the same bed (one time YN fell asleep on his bed, and Harry was so in his song-writing-bubble he didn’t even realize until he was so tired he couldn’t keep his eyes open, so he slipped in next to her and literally passed out).

He still needs to tie his shoes, so he sits next to her and ties the laces of his ratted vans.

“How’d yeh sleep, pet?” He asks, because she’s freakishly quiet and it’s making him anxious. She’s never quiet, and with this being a stressful day already for Harry, every little thing that’s different from normal alerts him.

“Fine” she whispers, knuckling at her eyes, his question bringing back the awful memory of the night she spent tossing and turning in the scratchy hotel sheets, praying for a moment of solace every time she tried to breathe through her nose and failing.

“Me too…” he nods.

YN feels bad because she should be more engaging, but she really doesn’t have it in her to make small talk. 

Some time passes before the driver calls YN’s phone to tell her the van is here, shaking her awake. She remembers closing her eyes to rest them, and next thing she knows she’s sound asleep on her boss’s bed. She’d be a bit embarrassed if it wasn’t for how awful she feels already. 

“Crap! I fell asleep!” She exclaims once she hangs up the call. 

“Yeah” Harry says from next to her, still laying on his bed, “just fo’ like… fifteen minutes though” He’s playing on his phone, and YN pushes at his bicep, “we need to go, driver’s here”

She gets up from the bed and slips on her shoes, grabbing her work bag (it’s really a tote bag but she finds calling it work bag makes her waaaay more professional) from the floor next to the door.

“YN” she hears Harry clear his voice, and she turns around to look at him.

He’s still sitting on the bed, and he passes a hand through his hair before saying, “are yeh all right?” 

She closes her eyes in a furrow and tries not to wince when a sharp pain shoots behind her eyes with the movement, “yes, yes” she stresses, although not convinced.

“Are you sure? C’mon yeh can tell me!” 

“I’m fine, Harry” and despite her words, she sniffles, “maybe I have a cold or something…”

“You can take the day off if you need to, yeh know that” 

“No, there’s no way” she shakes her head swiftly, “no”. 

“YN…” he trails off.

“Harry, I told you I’m fine. I can work! Let’s just go, okay?” 

He sighs but does as she says, following her out of his room.

Harry isn’t a worrier. If someone from his team, or band whatsoever, says they can work, he at least presumes they’re mature enough to know the expanse of their limits. 

With YN, it’s different. He worries.

Not because he considers her immature, but she’s just… different. Ever since she started working for him as his assistant, he’s always looked out for her, despite being the one that didn’t want to hire her in the first place.

She’s young, she works a lot to prove herself to him, despite him telling her lots of times she doesn’t need to prove anything and she’s doing a great job as she is. 

She does unthinkable working hours, sometimes pulling all nighters, other times hurrying to his house in the middle of the night because he’s a little bit of a hypochondriac and she needs to check immediately what’s that new mole he has on his back (turns out it was a speck of dark chocolate that stuck onto his skin).

She’s soft and she always puts her job (him, actually) first, so he doesn’t really trust her to know her limits. If she’s sick she should rest. She should lay in bed and maybe eat a little soup and watch comfort movies tucked under the sheets, but he knows she won’t. And he knows he’s the reason behind that, because he’s playing at Wembley tonight, and she doesn’t want to cause trouble. Harry thinks she in no way could ever be described as trouble. 

And maybe, and he feels a little bit scared to admit this, he could postpone the show just by a couple hours, at least until he knows she’s resting at the hotel. but, she hurries into the van and pretends like she’s just got “a cold or something”, so Harry doesn’t question her further. 

He could just order her to take the day off, but he knows that would hurt her feelings, and he can imagine the look on her face, like a puppy being scolded, so he bites his tongue: there’s no way he could ever hurt her feelings.

…

YN has to stop a couple of times when she starts feeling dizzy on her feet. She shouldn’t run this much when she’s probably feverish, but there’s so much to do! She doesn’t trust to delegate, and not because she’s pretentious, but because she’s a control freak that needs to know how things are being handled, so she would only get much more frustrated and it would eventually just end up in her doing all the work anyway, increasing her fever undoubtedly. 

So, she chugs downs a lot of water and a lot of ibuprofen, taking deep breaths every time she starts feeling nauseous. She should probably inform Harry at least that she doesn’t feel good, so if anything were to happen he wouldn’t be too surprised, but she knows how he is; he would demand she stop immediately and go back to the hotel to rest, and she can’t allow that to happen. 

Wembley is the dream of a lifetime, and Harry sound checks every song two times before passing on to the next one. YN sits quietly in one of the seats, preparing Harry’s next instagram post on her phone. She handles all of his socials, because that’s what she was originally hired for. “A young set of eyes”, Jeff had defined her, and from then, her life had changed completely. 

Of course, she wasn’t aware she’d develop a crush on her boss at the time she was hired. She figured she’d be immune to his charm; she’s younger than him, much less experienced (in every aspect of her life), and hasn’t really seen anything yet, so she thought they’d just be too different to get along. Spending each second of the day together didn’t help, though, because it was then she got to know Harry for who he truly was, and with that, came the awareness of how many things he’d lived through and how many things he could teach her. How soft he was with her, how he would always drape a blanket over her when she accidentally fell asleep on his bed, and how he would tell her she looked pretty even after pulling an all nighter and probably looking like a raccoon. That’s just how he was.

And that’s why she values his dreams more than her health. She would never do anything that could harm him, so she shrugs off the dreadful feeling off her back and keeps working. 

…

“Hey” Harry plops down on the couch next to her, draping his arm on the backrest of the couch. If he’d stretched his fingers he could touch her shoulder, but he doesn’t just yet. He knows she still doesn’t feel good, he can see it in the way she’s hugging herself in the Love on tour hoodie she has on (probably one of his because their laundry always gets mixed up).

“Hi” she says softly, her voice much lower than it’d been the last time he saw her.

It’s closer to show time now, but he’s still not in his outfit. YN wonders if that’s the reason why he came in the dressing room in the first place.

“What are yeh doin’ hidin’ in here all alone?” 

“‘m not hiding!” She pouts, “jus’… resting” 

“Mh, yeah?” He hums, turning his head to look at her, “restin’ your ears? Are you tired of my music yet?” He jokes.

“Never!” She beams, swatting at his chest playfully.

He lets his arm fall down on her shoulder, and he tugs at her, squeezing her against his chest.

She breaths him in, and despite her stuffy nose, she can smell the faint scent of his fabric softener. Musk and lavender. It’s the same as hers.

 “I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a pain lately…” he trails off, his mouth buried in her hair, “nothing to do with you… was jus’ nervous is all”

She squeezes his hoodie between her fingers to tug him closer, “I’m really proud of you. You’ll do great.”

“Thanks, pet” he grins, breaking away from the hug.

She sniffles and he looks between her eyes warily, “’s there anything you want to tell me before I go on stage?”

“Jus’ to kick ass” she giggles, aware that wasn’t what he was alluding at.

“Mmmh” he muses, getting up from the couch. He knew she’d be stubborn about this so he doesn’t pressure her.

“Hav’to start gettin’ ready” he clears his throat, heading towards the portable hanger YN set up in his dressing room.

He then proceeds to take off his hoodie and his tank top, leaving him shirtless before her.

She’s seen him in his underwear many times, but maybe it’s the fever, maybe it’s the crush on him that’s growing stronger everyday, but she feels her insides get warm at the sight. 

He tugs his sweats down his legs too, kicking them off his feet, and YN pretends to pick up her phone to respond to a message that definitely could have waited. 

He picks up the heart printed overalls he’d be wearing and tugs them over his legs, jumping a little in his place so they could fit over his bum.

Once he’s fully dressed, he looks over at YN and finds her looking at him already, her eyes a little droopy. He feels his heart tug in his chest at the sight. He wishes she’d let him help her. If he could he’d send her back to the hotel straight away, but he has to admit he’s selfishly relishing in the idea of having her here, looking at him perform. It makes him want to do even better than he always does. 

“All ready then” he smiles, dimples denting both his cheeks.

“Mmhh” she hums, getting up on her feet. She walks towards him and adjusts the neck of his shirt, petting it down.

“Good luck Harry” she smiles. He has to refrain himself from lowering his head down to kiss her, and he’s aware these thoughts are way too unprofessional of him, but he can’t help himself. Not when she’s looking at him like that.

“See ya after the show, pet”

…

“Harry!” Jeff pats down on his shoulders as soon as Harry runs backstage, “you just smashed it! Fuckin’ smashed it mate!”

Harry laughs with him out of politeness, but his mind is really on something else.

“Fuckin’ Wembley, Harry! Wembley’s Harry’s house!” Someone else shouts, and he thinks it’s Lloyd but he doesn’t really pay much attention to him. There’s someone missing from the crowd. YN. She’s nowhere to be found, and he’d really like to celebrate with her. She’s the one that should join in on the fun and get a little bit of praise too, because without her, harry doesn’t think he could’ve played Wembley.

Everything was going fine, and he saw her next to his mother standing in the private part of the pit, but then, when he came back after chatting with a couple of fans, she was gone. He wonders if she’s okay.

“Hey, Jeff” he clears his throat, hoping to be discreet with his tone of voice, “where’s YN?” 

“Oh…” he nods, “she wasn’t feeling proper good, so I sent her to your dressing room. I told her to get back to the hotel, but she refused to leave”

Harry nods and after a ‘thanks’ he hurries towards his dressing room, hoping to find her there.

Once he opens the door, the sight of YN sleeping on the couch crouched on herself makes his heart somersault in his chest.

“Hey, pet” he coos softly once he crouches down next to her.

He repeats the endearing greeting, and this time she stirs awake. YN brings one hand to knuckle at her eyes tiredly, and Harry frowns at the sight of her bloodshot eyes. He brings one hand to caress her cheek, but when he realizes how warm she is, he brings it up to her forehead. She’s burning hot. 

He immediately feels guilty. He should’ve sent her back to the hotel as soon as he realized she was sick, hell, he shouldn’t have let her leave his room that morning!

“Harry?” She asks timidly, her voice coming out scruffy. She gulps but flinches as the hurt in her throat doesn’t subside. 

“Yeah, ’s me” he whispers, moving the hair away from her face, “let’s go back to the hotel, okay?” 

“No Harry! The show! You can’t leave… the show! It’s wembley” she stresses, gripping his bicep tightly to refrain him from leaving her.

“Shh, shh” he shushes her, “calm down. ’s okay. The show was great. Everything was great” he coos, pressing his lips down her forehead and flinching from how hot it feels, “you did so great”.

She sniffles and: “great?” 

“Yeah” he nods, reassuring her, “let’s go now, okay?”

He helps her get up on her feet, and she stumbles a bit in her place. She grips the fabric of his overalls tightly between her fingers, and he lets her, hoping to be at least a little bit of comfort.

…

“How are you feelin’? What hurts?” He asks her once they reach his hotel room (he wanted to go back to hers, but couldn’t find her key and didn’t want to startle her too much).

“Everything” she pouts.

“I’m so sorry, darling” he sighs, ushering her inside his room.

She’s stable on her feet now, the little nap at the venue kind of helped a bit in soothing her, but still, everything hurts, and the thought of being in a hotel room and not at her own house bothers her.

She also doesn’t want Harry to look at her like this, all sweaty and red in the cheeks. She must look so embarrassing! 

“I’ll draw you a bath, how about that?” He proposes, not waiting for her response and heading directly towards the bathroom.

Now that he thinks about it, harry’s glad she’s in his room, because (being the Harry Styles) his room has a bathtub, whereas hers doesn’t. He also has lots of salt baths and bubbles to add to the water, courtesy of the hotel, and he adds everything he can to soothe her stuffed nose and make the bath as pleasing as possible.

She knocks on the door delicately, and he turns his head to look at her.

“Bath’s ready” he smiles gently, and he dips his index finger to test the temperature of the water, careful not to make it too hot to not aggravate her fever any more. 

Harry excuses himself from the bathroom, and tells her to give him a shout if she needs anything.

It’s a couple of minutes later when he hears her calling for him, her voice still lower than normal.

He knocks on the door and after he gets her consent he opens it, peeking his head inside. She’s laying in the bathtub, the water submerging her almost to her neck, and he’s aware she’s naked under, but the bubbles cover her body entirely.

“Are yeh all right?” He asks worriedly.

“Mhmh,” she hums, “jus… keep me company?” 

He’s happy she’s more responsive now, and he happily sits at her side, plopping down on the toilet seat next to the tub.

They sit in silence for a while, Harry’s aware he’s still in his fancy (and uncomfortable) show clothes, but he doesn’t care. He’s just happy to dote on her now as she’s been doing with him since she’s been hired.

“I can’t believe you played at wembley and I missed half of it” she says after a while, the water sloshing around her as she turns to look at him.

“There’s always next time” he grins at her playfully.

She throws a smile at him, “bet”.

His mouth opens in a sideway smile, his dimple indenting only one of his cheeks, and more seriously than he did before, he says “I wish you’d told me you weren’t feelin’ good”

“Didn’t want to spoil your day” she shrugs.

He wants to tell her she wouldn’t have spoiled it, that if she’d asked he would’ve postponed his show and crawled in bed with her, cuddling her until she felt better, even with the risk of getting himself sick too, he didn’t care. He would have done anything to make her feel good; but how can he tell her? How can he be honest about something like that without revealing another part of himself to her? He’s her boss. He’s older than her. And he doesn’t know if she feels the same way.

So, instead of making a complete fool out of himself, he ushers her out of the tub, passing her a towel without looking at her. He engulfs her in the bathrobe and ties it tight on her stomach, careful to have her bits covered completely by the fabric of the towel.

When he reaches his room, he takes out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers for her to sleep in, and he leave her to change in the bathroom.

While he waits for her to come out, he texts his mum if she could make that delicious soup she always prepared when he was sick, promising he wasn’t sick himself and that he’d explain in the morning. His mum answers a couple of minutes later with a thumbs up and a kissy face. 

He locks his phone and plugs it in the charger next to the bed, leaving it on the bedside table.

When YN comes out of the bathroom, she looks better already. Her cheeks aren’t as red and her eyes appear to be more rested, but, she still looks tired, and he smiles at her as he tugs the comforter down for her to slip in.

She curls up under the covers and waits for Harry to tuck her in, “comfortable?” He asks.

She nods with her cheek against the pillow, “just wish I was home” she whispers and the affirmation pains him.

“I’ve been overworking yah, haven’t I?” He sighs deeply, feeling extremely guilty. 

She’s quick to shake her head no, flinching when a sting of pain hits her temples with the movement. 

“Yes I have… you’ve been s’good” he smiles down at her.

“You’re a Wembley player now” she whispers, her eyes closing on her as she speaks, and Harry chuckles endeared at her. 

“Get some rest” he coos, but she’s already fallen in a deep sleep that will probably be tainted with a curly headed guy with green eyes and a pretty smile.

He fishes from inside her bag a tab of ibuprofen and, with a glass of water, he places them on the bedside table closer to her side, so, if she’d ever were to wake up in pain, she could take the medicine immediately. 

He takes the shortest shower he’s ever taken, quickly putting on his pajamas and brushing his teeth. Once he’s ready for bed, he slips in next to her, leaning down to press his lips on her forehead to check her temperature. She’s still warm, but the bath seemed to be of help, and probably the much needed sleep, too.

He thinks he’ll give her the rest of the month off. He owes it to her, so she can get back up on her feet and spend some time at home if she’d like. He takes a minute to wonder why hasn’t he ever given her more than a day of rest, and he doesn’t have to wonder too much, because he knows the answer already, one that is overbearing and too deep to even analyze after the day he’s had: he doesn’t want to be away from her that much time. It’s as simple as that. He’s fucked.

Read part 1 to their story here

hi! let me know if you liked this!!! this is my ko-fi if you'd like to support me and my writing, even a small donation is appreciated <3 love you all!

[ghoststyles]

Casanova

HIIIII 🤍 Here is a little piece I've been working on for a while! This is inspired by the song Casanova by Rayland Baxter. Harry is a manipulative little twat in this, so bare with me 🤍

7.5K words;

TW: SLIGHT mommy kink. He doesn't call her mommy but he calls her mama and Miss/Missy. P in V sex, oral sex, phone sex. FACETIME SEX <3 Slight mentions of suicide. EXTREME drug and alcohol abuse. Arrests, jail. the works.

ENJOY AND GIVE ME A BOOP IF YOU LIKE IT :D

______________________________________________________________

Money, all I ever want is money But I never wanna work for the money So I borrow the money from a woman

Harry Styles knew who he was from a young age. A charmer. A flirt. He uses his wits and his good looks to manipulate the people around him until they have no choice but to give in, conning them and infiltrating their lives for his own gain.

His days are simple; He sleeps until 11, combs his hair into a perfect swirl of chocolate curls, brushes his perfectly white and straight teeth, spritzes his neck with his ridiculously priced Tom Ford cologne, climbs into his Porsche Cayenne to hit the gym, and grab an $18 smoothie for the ride home. From there, he lets the day unfold how it pleases, until it’s time to go to the club with his friends. Here and there, he’ll meet up with his dealer and his bookie to spice it up. 

Rinse. Reuse. Repeat. 

As a child, Harry was dirt poor. He’d never let anyone know that, however. His perfectly curated image blossomed the minute he got to college, leaving any ounce of mediocrity behind. His friends were none the wiser, assuming Harry was there blowing his trust fund like the rest of them, when really, he was a charity case.

Every day, he’d walk to the corner store for cigarettes for his dad and cans of tuna fish, stealing a small item to try and feel something. The owner, Mr. Abbott, knew Harry stole from him, but never said a word. He’d return to their one bedroom apartment, flicking the light on, only to find the electric bill hadn’t been paid. 

His parents are not addicts or criminals, by any means. If they were, he’d at least have a touching back story. Neither of them have the drive or the desire to succeed like he does. They lived their simple lives, worked paycheck to paycheck to support him and his siblings and never worked for more. 

On the day he left for college, he vowed to himself to never let anyone see him as the poor, pathetic boy he was. He’ll put his own silver spoon in his mouth, if he must. 

So, as he sits high and mighty on his throne after doing a few lines off a pretty girl’s tits in the VIP section of his favorite club, The Viper, surrounded by his fellow socialite friends, he thinks of one person.

You.

Harry isn’t unemployed, per se, but, he doesn’t exactly have a job, either. Two years ago, at the ripe age of 21, he graduated magna cum laude from university, with top marks in all of his classes. But, he knew he didn’t want to work a traditional job. He wanted to travel, he wanted to live lavishly, and he wanted to party.

That’s where you come in. The gorgeous, alluring and kind-hearted woman that feeds the beast that is his lifestyle. He wouldn’t change it for the fucking world.

Swiping aimlessly one day on the dating apps, he stopped his scroll abruptly to study your profile. You’re perfectly curated - the collection of photos reflecting your outgoing personality and beauty. 

38. Looking for some fun. Dog mom. CEO. Let me spoil you <3

Seeking a male ages 21-28.

His eyebrow quirks. A sugar mommy? Is that a thing?

He swipes right, hoping deep down you match. This could be it. This could be his way in. The funds from his financial aid are quickly dwindling, and he’d be sooner caught dead than with a part-time job. 

He dawdles around his apartment for a few hours, pacing the room to see if you matched with him. The possibility of this arrangement is scratching an itch he’s been desperate to quell. 

He readies himself to meet his friends at the club, placing cologne on his neck and wrists. For good measure, he adjusts himself in his trousers to get a little blood flowing down there. 

As he plucks his keys from the door, he hears the familiar ping from the dating site ring out from his laptop. Stopping in his tracks, he pivots to stand at his desk. He swallows thickly before entering his passcode.

Congratulations, Casanova94, you matched with BabyHoneyxo

A dazed smile makes its way to his lips, his dimple popping significantly. This is going to be good.

Can you believe I never met her? Can you believe she never met me, too? But she calls me everyday, telling me to behave And no I never listened

Now, almost two years later, you and Harry have still never met in person. But, that’s by your request. You want a companion. A call boy. Someone who will always answer the phone when you need it. And ever since you inherited your family’s wealth and company, you want someone to spoil.

It started off slow; texts asking about one another’s day, learning about hobbies and interests. Then, the wire deposits came in. Harry wasn’t sure if he had hearts in his eyes or dollar signs. You don’t tell him how to spend the money, but you definitely drop hints.

“Get yourself a new outfit, baby. Then send me a picture,” you smiled lazily on FaceTime one night. “Maybe you can find something to match the Porsche.”

Harry chuckles boyishly, “You’re too good to me. I just went shopping last week!” 

He has you eating out of the palm of his hand. 

“I know, I know. I just want my baby boy to be happy. Can you pull yourself out for me, baby? Wanna see you,” you purr, making yourself comfortable on your king sized bed in your quiet penthouse. You’re winding down for bed, even though your lover is just getting ready for the night. 

“Mhm,” Harry responds, voice an octave higher and desperate sounding. He slides himself out, letting his cock harden slowly in his hands. “My friends will be here soon, Missy.”

“That’s okay, bubba. We’ll be quick. Mmm, look how big and gorgeous you are,” your sultry tone sends shivers up his spine. He adjusts the camera so you’re looking at his abdomen from below his thick cock. 

“My perfect boy,” you moan out as you touch your clit for the first time this evening. “Always so good for me.”

“Yes, Missy. Wanna be good for you. Can I touch myself harder now?”

“Yeah, baby, go ahead. Squeeze that big cock. Tell me when you’re close.”

At this point, you’re furiously rubbing your clit, and gently teasing a finger inside. His breaths are becoming more labored as he pumps his cock at a faster pace. You pause just before your climax, sending your heart rate to a thunderous pace you can hear the ringing in your ears. 

You look over at your phone propped up next to you to find your little love sweating and fisting himself hurriedly. The whimpers coming from the other end make the hairs on your arms stand up. After a beat, you continue the assault on your clit, starting off slow in order to reach that peak again. 

“I-I’m close, Missy. Please let me cum. I f-feel so good,” at the tail end of his begging, he moans deeply. 

“Uh-uh. Who always cums first, baby?”

“You, Mama. You cum first,” he pants, his eyes making panicked contact with yours. 

“That’s right. Good boy. I’m so close baby,” you squeak out as you stick two fingers in your cunt. You cry out, at your release, gently tweaking your nipple with your other hand.

Harry isn’t far behind, taking one last swipe over his tip, using his other hand to cup his balls. He cums all over his fist, small specks of white littering his belly. He whimpers again, barely able to open his eyes. 

“Let me see, baby,” you whisper, waiting for him to show you his load. He pans the camera silently, the haze already leaving his head. But he’d never tell you that. 

“Thank you, Missy. I feel so good.”

“Mmm, bet you do, baby. Now go clean up and have fun with your friends. I’ll talk you tomorrow. Behave!”

“Okay, I will. Goodnight.”

The minute Harry presses ‘end’, an ounce of remorse bubbles in his chest. Just an ounce. He rises from his bed to jump in the shower, ridding him of his guilt and shame. 

Sure, you’re gorgeous, and nice. But you’re not what’s getting him off. Or so he likes to tell himself. Throughout your sessions on FaceTime, Harry’s mind wanders to the girls he’s hooked up with the weekend before, and the countless drugs he’ll consume on a night out. That’s what gets his rocks off. 

You’re the means to his ends. The gateway to his wildest dreams. He’s going to hold onto you for as long as he can, even if he has to get off over the phone a few nights, or pretend to care about the philanthropy you’re supporting that week. 

Harry should be your only philanthropy, he thinks to himself. This is the easiest job he’s ever done. And it only makes it better that he can do whatever he wants, with no consequences.

As he gets out of the shower, his prick still swinging in the air, he picks up his phone to see a Venmo payment from you.

Y/N L/N paid Harry Styles - $2,000.00 - 😘

Without even hesitating, Harry, heart rate rising a bit, opens up a text field  - to his club promoter. He ignores the dozens of texts from family members over the last few weeks. He’ll make his yearly obligation call to his mother at some point.

Hey, Mike! Can we upgrade to V.I.P tonight? I can put $2K down now.

He’ll thank you later. Tonight, he’s the hero of his friend group. A slight nervousness prickles on his neck. Harry isn’t naive - he knows he should be smarter with his money - your money. But you haven’t given him any reason to believe the well will run dry any time soon. 

So far, despite your generosity, Harry still lives paycheck to paycheck. He blows his money on extravagant trips, nights out at the club, and plenty of booze and coke. It’s times he hopes to look back on one day and smile. He swears to you he’s saving the money and working towards investing and buying a house. 

Scout’s honor. 

I got a real bad feeling, I'ma let her down Got a hole in my pocket and I'm running around Spending all of her money on drugs and things To keep my mind from runnin' Back to the hole that I came from

Every night that he steps out of his apartment, he shakes the nagging feeling in his gut, the embodiment of the life he left behind. He calls his Uber Black to take him to the Viper, his little white baggy in the breast pocket of his Burberry overcoat. 

He nods to the driver when he opens his door and proceeds to pour a small line of the substance onto the screen of his phone, but not without seeing another text from you.

Mrs. Robinson 🤍: Enjoy the night, sweet boy! Be safe xo

Harry smiles to himself at your contact in his phone. You all but had a fit when you found out he’d never seen The Graduate. Once he saw it, his world changed.

Swiping away your message, he plugs up his nostril, inhaling sharply as he moves his face over the surface of the screen. He grunts lightly, throwing his head back and shaking it out. That should hold him over until they’re in their secluded area of the club. 

The car pulls up to the club around 11:45, the house music already bumping. The line looks brutal. He scans it to see if he spots any 10s waiting that can keep him company later. Miles, Marquise and Jade are already inside at their table.

The bouncers greet Harry, bumping his fist and patting him on the back. He can feel the eyes of the nobodies in line glaring at him enviously. When you spend the average person’s salary in one night at the club, you eagerly reap the benefits. 

As he’s escorted through the crowd by the five-foot-nothing hostess, his senses are on high alert. He can hear his heart beating over the music and can feel the bass shaking the floors. He smiles tightly at the girl as she leads him to his table and scurries back into the crowd. 

Marquise and Miles, his best friends from undergrad stand to greet him, as Jade greets him from the lap of her catch of the day, a burly, bearded dude already glowing from sweat and the 8-ball they’re about to dig into. 

Taking his first swig of the Don Julio his regular bottle service girl, Tasia, pours into his mouth, he cracks a wicked smile, convincing himself there’s no where else he’d rather be.

Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

~

“So,” you start quietly on your daily FaceTime coffee date. You’re perched in your home library’s windowsill. “I was thinking of flying you in for my 40th. It’s going to be pretty chill. I’ll probably hire a chef and have a dinner at my place. Maybe 15-20 people.”

Harry is cocooned in a blanket on his bed, his iced coffee you had DoorDashed to his apartment slowly melting on his bedside table. His eyes had slowly drifted shut as he listened to you talk about everything and nothing. That’s how these things went — you talk and he listens. You’re after his companionship, after all.

At your words, his eyes shoot open, causing him to try and sit up gently so he can hear you better, not believing what you’re saying. Inhaling, he hesitates before he starts to reply. 

“Uh, um,” he bites his lip and looks at himself in the corner of the screen, trying to gauge if he looks as shocked as he sounds. “W-when are you thinking? I have a couple trips coming up and plans with my friends.”

He decides to play it cool. You have to know this is a huge development in this arrangement, right?

“Well, my birthday is the 27th, obviously.”

He scoffs, “I knew that part, Miss. When is the party?”

“Watch the ‘tude, baby. I was hoping for that Saturday, maybe. But I’d be willing to work around what you have coming up.”

He’s lying through his teeth. He doesn’t have major travel plans until the summer, when his friend group will jet off to Greece. He’s been saving up your pennies to charter a private plane.

“Don’t agree to it now, but please think about it. I love spending time with you and I’d love to finally meet you. We can tell my family that you’re part of one of my philanthropy groups. I’m your largest donor, after all,” you stick your tongue out at him.

“Okay, let me get myself together for the day, and I can see what’s going on,” Harry grits out, trying not to let you down. 

“Okay, baby. Have a good day. Let me know if you get up to anything fun,” you say with a mild hurt in your tone. The least he can do is make an effort to finally meet you.

“Will do. Bye, Miss,” He says quietly, swiftly hanging up the call and chucking the phone towards his pillows. 

“Fuck!” 

Hm, Casanova You know that I'm a casanova Throw my pennies in the well Waking up in jail 'Cause I never paid attention Do you remember all the good times? Do you remember all the bad times too? She reminds me everyday, telling me to behave And no I never listened

~

You didn’t let him off the hook that easily. Every day that passes as your birthday party looms, you mention flights, or activities you can do once he arrives. Harry laughs them off, distracting you by touching himself or telling a story from his gatherings with friends. 

It’s not until you’re barking orders at him over the phone, 1 week before your party, denying his orgasm that he finally relents. 

“Miss, please, I-I need to cum,” he whimpers as he has a ghostly touch over his angry, red cock. “P-please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, hm? I want my pretty baby at my birthday party. Wanna show you off and whisper filthy things in your ear and feel that pretty cock under the table. Agree to fly out to me and I’ll let you cum, baby.”

“Miss,” he croaks out, his stomach in shambles trying to stop himself from coming for the third time. “Okay, okay, Mama, I’ll go. I-I’ll come for your birthday! Please let me cum.”

You all but squeal in delight, instructing him to finally let go. Talking him through it, he keens from your praises for following the rules. A nervous heat travels up his neck, realizing what he agreed to in his post-nut clarity. 

“Good boy. Take a picture before you clean up, okay? I’ll talk to you in the morning and I’ll have my assistant send over your travel information.”

He nods, unable to make eye contact. You’re oblivious and overjoyed, thinking he’s just too fucked out to look at you. 

“G’night, Missy,” he chokes out. 

“Goodnight, sweet boy,” you hum before hanging up.

Harry snaps a photo of his messy left fist and cum-covered stomach before cleaning himself up and returning to bed. He eagerly picks up his phone to check his dating apps for his matches. He’d been talking to a new girl, Madelyn, for the past week, so excitement bubbles in his stomach. 

She’s meeting him and his regular group at the Viper tonight, so he’s excited to show off to her. Maybe she’ll even be down for a romp in the back seat of his Porsche.

His phone pings, signaling another deposit from you.

Y/N L/N paid Harry Styles - $5,000 - Can’t wait to see you 😘

He smiles, his right thumb picking at the skin of his ring finger. The guilt he feels from abusing your kindness starts to eat at him. But he didn’t get this far by being nice to people. You can’t possibly have feelings for him, right? You haven’t even met, for god’s sake. He shivers, shaking the feeling so he can focus on the night ahead. 

Pushing you far, far in the back of his mind. 

~

It’s now the night before your 40th birthday party, and you’re buzzing with excitement. Your penthouse is decorated in pink and floral frill - almost like your Great Aunt Gertrude exploded - but it’s chic and will be a hit amongst your New York City socialite friends. Your party planner floats around the room, puttering with the florals, candles and gem stones scattered around. 

You anxiously check the time, counting down the hours until Harry boards his flight from LA. He’s jumping on a red eye, so you’ll greet him with coffee and donuts when he lands. A pang of nervousness hits you as you remember how distant he was this week, saying he was busy with friends or doing god knows what an unemployed 23 year old does in Los Angeles.

Monday, 3:31 PM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Sorry, missy. I’ve been at Miles’ art showing all day.

Wednesday, 11:27 AM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Sorry! At the gym with Do Not Disturb on. Hey, can you send me some cash? Last min car maintenance 😢

Friday, 5:58 PM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Hi missy. My friends want to go to the opening of the new Carbone out here. Think your friends can get us a table? It’ll be 9 of us. 

Hope your dad’s chemo appointment went okay.

You can’t be mad at the little monster you’ve let him become. You are always an after thought as his only priority is making sure the cash cow is alive and well. He extends effort just enough to make the butterflies in your stomach reappear when he does give you the attention you crave. 

Inhaling deeply, you ascend up the grand staircase in your Upper East Side brownstone and begin your pampering routine, sending photos to Harry of the hydrating eye patches on and curlers in your hair, blowing kisses and sticking out your tongue. 

Typically, Harry answers relatively quickly to your silly messages, but, tonight, he’s gone radio silent. Maybe he’s trying to conserve his phone battery for the flight? 

You open your medicine cabinet to examine your fast-acting anti-anxiety pills, hoping you can will away this uneasy feeling. Padding over to your bed, you pop your pills before tucking into your silk sheets. Before putting your phone on the charger, you send Harry one last message.

Mrs. Robinson 🤍: Safe flight, baby ♥️ I’ll be tracking you, but tell me which terminal when you land. Can’t wait to see you 😚

Flicking out the light, you close your eyes with the hopes of finally meeting your lover in just twelve hours.

~

I got a real bad feeling I'ma lose my cool Everywhere that I go, everything that I do Stop me using the money on drugs and things To keep my mind from runnin'

Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

Ping!

Harry, Delta airlines can’t wait to welcome you aboard Flight 0723 to JFK, departing 18:35

Ping!

You may now board Flight 0723 to JFK, departing 18:35. Welcome aboard, Harry.

Harry’s leg is bouncing uncontrollably as he watches the busy bodies move around him. Despite his social butterfly nature, his social anxiety rears its ugly head every once in a while. Or, it could be tonight’s concoction of pills.

He places his phone on Do Not Disturb, just as he gets a text from you. Closing his eyes in defeat, he comes face to face with the awful, shameful and downright despicable choice he’s made.

He’s not going to New York.

Instead, he’s standing booth side at a club next to John Summit, his favorite DJ, as he passes around a bottle of 1942. The pills he’s on are plastering a wide smile on his face as the throng of bodies around him jump around, despite the absolute panic and guilt he feels in his veins. 

He’s wondering when you’ll realize he’s not coming. The lack of texts? The empty escalator to the pick-up area well after the flight has landed? He can picture your cherub cheeks reddening with embarrassment, fighting back hot tears.

To distract himself, he leans down to capture the blonde girl to his left in a kiss, despite not even making eye contact with her prior. When she peers up at him, her pupils are just as dilated as his as they sway back and forth.

He kisses her once more, just as Marquise offers him another baggie.

~

The panic sets in about 30 minutes after his flight landed. Surely that’s enough time to grab his bag and meet you here, right?

Your eyes urgently scan over every person that walks by probably sending them into fight or flight as a deranged woman looks them over in search for her boy. 

You look down at your phone, the background a photo of your dog, completely clear of any notifications. With vigor, you throw out the box of donuts and his iced black Americano. Swallowing your pride, you skulk back to the parking lot to cry in the safety of your car. 

You feel like a loser. A pathetic middle-aged woman who got fooled by a man half her age. The mental gymnastics that takes place as you drive home with white knuckles on the steering wheel should have you committed. 

Your dating life wasn’t easy. It started in high school, where you were invisible to the boys, always deemed not good enough to date. Extending through college, you were still nearly invisible, working over time to find just one guy to have any interest in you and take your virginity. Just to get it over with. 

As the dating scene expanded in your 20s, you still struck out with men your age. It wasn’t until your late 30s when your hopes and dreams of a family came crashing down on you that you’d made that godforsaken dating profile. 

You still remember how your heart skipped a beat when you saw Harry’s photo for the first time. His boyish charm was palpable, followed by his incredibly witty prompt answers. He was your solution. If you couldn’t earn someone’s love, you could at least buy it. 

The lump in your throat is preventing you from calling him and leaving the fiery voicemail you so want to do. You assume he’ll ignore any calls from you anyway.

Pulling into your private garage, you let out your frustrations by wailing and smacking the steering wheel of your Bentley. To prying eyes, the cops should be called. You allow yourself to flip for 5 minutes before putting on a brave face and going inside to begin getting ready for your birthday party, ringing in another year of heartbreak and disappointment. 

~

3 glasses of a 1982 Cabernet Sauvignon. That’s how much alcohol it took to have you crying in front of your friends and family. 

You couldn’t tell them what was really wrong, of course. They have no idea about your and Harry’s arrangement. They’d call you an idiot if they knew how much money you’ve sent him.

Everyone is shooting you sympathetic looks as you cry on your best friend’s shoulder. For all they know, you’re stressed with work and your dad’s cancer diagnosis. It’s a lot of pressure on a single woman. 

Rubbing your back, Candice whispers all the affirmations she’s been telling you since college. It’s incredibly annoying to get advice from someone whose life is perfect. 

You quietly thank her, clearing your throat of the lump that’s formed. Looking around the room, you make a break for it, grabbing your phone as you lock yourself in the guest bathroom.

Tears blurring your vision, you dial his number for the first time all day. It rings and rings, finally sending you to voicemail, as you’d suspected.

You’re silent for a beat after the beep. 

“I-I don’t even have words for how I’m feeling right now. I was so fucking excited to see you…feel you….kiss you. And instead I’m locked in a bathroom at my own birthday party, calling you like a fucking loser,” you start, snot threatening to drip down your face. 

“I give, and I give and I give, and yet you still let me look like a fucking idiot in front of my friends and family. You couldn’t do one fucking thing for me? You…You didn’t even have to put any effort. I paid for a car service, paid for a first-class seat, bought you a wardrobe…”

“I just hope whatever the fuck you’re doing right now is worth it. I don’t ask questions about what you do with my money, since I’m the one who started this. B-but I thought you were a decent person. I feel so fucking stupid right now,” you are talking to yourself at this point. You shakily inhale and stare at the ceiling. 

“We’re done. I’m done with your bullshit. I’m not gonna let some ungrateful brat take advantage of me anymore. Have a nice life, Harry. Hope you have to move back to bumblefuck and lose all the friends you’ve been lying to this whole time,” you end off the message with pure venom leaking through your words.

You press end, feeling slightly better that you’d used his deepest darkest secret as ammunition. The mirror in front of you shows a shocking picture; running mascara, watery, red eyes, and disheveled hair.

Patting some toilet paper under your eyes, you clean up the best you can before returning back to the party. If you were strong, you’d block his number. But you can’t help but wonder what his response could be.

~

He deserves it. It’s 4:40 AM and he just mustered the courage to listen to your message. His under eyes feel heavy as he listens to your words, hitting him where it hurts. His hands are shaking as he lowers the phone to his lap, drowning out the sound of your sad, heartbreaking voice. 

5 years ago, he was a decent person. Now, he looks in the mirror and sees his slightly gaunt face and tired eyes staring back at him. He even notices a few gray hairs every once in a while. 

His lifestyle takes a toll on him — He’s well aware of that. But for now, he has no reason to stop. Harry lightly smacks his head back on the seat of the Uber back to his apartment. Cracking the window, he lets the sounds of the early morning deter him from vomiting.

The car arrives at his apartment — a guest house in Hidden Hills, the only place he can afford with the zip code he desires so badly. He never brings anyone to his place, too paranoid of his secrets getting out. Vision doubling, he struggles to stick his key in the lock. He knees the door has he twists the knob, sending him tumbling flat on his face. 

Smacking his head on the tile floor, he recoils, lifting his hand to feel droplets of blood on his nose and bottom lip. The metallic taste is leaking into his mouth, sending him into a spiral. His front door is still wide open, allowing him to see the sun peaking over the hills in the distance. 

He crawls over to the threshold, slamming the door shut with his foot. He lays back down on the cool floor, exhausted from his efforts. His breathing evened out, lulling him into a comatose state before succumbing to the darkness.

But before he passes out, all he can picture is your gorgeous, disappointed face.

I'm back in the hole I got nowhere to go La la la la, la, la Spinning around In the cold dark hole deep down in the ground Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from

The thing about rock bottom is that you don’t realize you’ve hit it until you’re clawing your way back to the top.

In the days following your fallout, Harry’s experienced enough misfortunes to last a lifetime. It started off with his credit card declining on a $6 breakfast sandwich, only to come back hungry and sad to his car being repossessed in front of all the Hidden Hills housewives out and about. 

The panic rises in his chest, and it’s taking everything in him not to call you and beg for forgiveness. He’s come to realize how fucked up his actions towards you became. He misses the butterflies and longing he felt when you first started your arrangement. 

He stomps back inside, miserable and feeling like a loser. If it wasn’t for Marquise’s birthday party later, he’d be sure to go dive in the ocean in hopes of never resurfacing. 

His closet is taunting him — full of the clothes you’ve bought him. He can remember every single piece he tried on for you, and the praise you were so quick to give him. He never reciprocated when you’d show him new pieces and showing off your incredible body. But, you hadn’t called him out on it, so he continued on. 

The all black outfit he chose reflects his mental state. Filled with dread and remorse, he pulls out his kitchen drawer to peruse the substances he has left. His stash is dwindling as fast as his bank account, so he has to be strategic until he figures out his next move. 

Grabbing the baggies, he situates them in the breast pocket of his jacket to conceal everything. They’re going to a new club tonight, so there’s no being saved by the bouncers if shit goes south. 

The party goes off without a hitch. Bottles pouring, dancers hanging from the ceiling, and an influx of out of town girls willing to do anyone and anything. Harry has nearly pushed you completely out of his mind, but he does something completely out of character.

~

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: I’m sorry.

You’re at a wine bar with your girlfriends in the Village, and the message you receive shakes you to your core. You haven’t heard from him in days. Not even after you repossessed the car and canceled his credit card tied to your account. You thought for sure that would smoke him out of his foxhole. But, he’s Harry. He’s selfish and too full of pride to ever come forward and apologize.

Your friends notice the faltered look on your face, but opt to ignore it as they bitch about their husbands and kids. Despite your fleeting dreams of having a family, most of the time you’re thankful you can’t relate to them. 

Turning off your phone, you throw it in your new Kelly bag — a little treat to get over the heartbreak — and return to the conversation.

~

He doesn’t even remember how it went down. 

The last clear memory he has is being escorted out of the club to go back to Marquise’s. The combination of coke and alcohol, plus this week’s tumultuous events had him on edge, so when the unfamiliar bouncer at this mediocre club grabbed him wrong, it sent Harry into a frenzy. 

To match his bloody nose and busted lip, his knuckles are now decorated with crusty amber smatterings of blood — his own, and the bouncer’s. His jaw and wrist were aching, still mouthing off like a rabid animal as the cop read him his Miranda rights. 

So now, he sits in a cold cell in the county jail awaiting his arraignment — a seemingly straight forward assault and battery charge, now amplified by the 40 grams of cocaine and Adderall in his coat pocket. The bastard cop smiled to himself when he patted him down. Harry will give him this one, the rinkydink small town cop who is used to giving out traffic violations. 

Tired, in dire need to piss, and on the verge of a mental breakdown, Harry’s head snaps up when the officer notifies him of his bail — a measly $75,000 — and lets him know he has one phone call. Balling his fists, he looks up at the ceiling.

“Fuck!”

The cop assists him in standing up. His wrists are chained together behind his back, after all. Releasing him from the confines, Harry rubs his wrists where the cheap metal chafed him.

“You have 5 minutes to make a call. Do you know the phone number or do you need me to access your cell phone?”

Harry scoffs. Who the fuck still memorizes phone numbers?

“Phone,” he replies, a clear edge in his voice. 

“Whose contact am I looking for? Mom, Dad?”

“Fuck’s sake. No, I need the number of,” Harry pauses suddenly as he remembers your name in his phone. 

“Mrs. Robinson,” he finishes quietly.

The cop raises his eyebrows, but says nothing, and reads the number aloud to him. It rings, and rings, diminishing any hope that you’ll answer. It’s in this moment Harry is at his rockbottom.

“Hello?”

~

“This is a collect call from the Department of Corrections for the City of Los Angeles. An individual is trying to contact you. Do you wish to answer?”

You gasp as the automated voice informs you of your worst nightmare.

“Hello?” you say quietly. It’s 8:15 AM, and you’re at the cafe on the corner for a latte and reading, trying not to disturb those around you. 

“M-missy?” His voice sounds broken. It sends a stabbing pain straight through your chest. 

“Harry, what happened? What did you do?”

“I-I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. N-not just with you. I know I fucked everything u-up,” he’s starting to sob, unable to catch his breath between words.

“B-but I got into a pretty bad fight last night, and I had some,” Harry pauses to look over his shoulder to make sure the officer isn’t listening. He wipes the tears in his eyes with his thumb. “I had some stuff on me, so now I’m in a lot more trouble. A-and I know I fucked everything up and I don’t deserve anything from you, but I don’t have enough money for bail.”

You sigh, not really even sure where to begin. Tears are threatening to spill over as you hear his clearly broken sobs. 

“How much do you need?”

At this point, Harry hung his head at your silence. He snaps his head back up when you agree to help him.

“It’s $75,000.”

“Jesus, Harry, what the fuck did you do?”

“I don’t even know, I barely have any memory of—”

“Five minutes, inmate!” the officer interrupts him.

Harry rolls his eyes and continues. 

“I’m not sure what happens next. B-but thank you, Y/N. I know I don’t deserve this in the slightest.”

You shiver at his use of your first name. Closing your eyes, “I know you don’t. Just tell me who I need to call.”

~

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mutter as you hear your incessant doorbell ring. It’s 6 in the morning, just a few days after you paid Harry’s bail. You’ve been laying low, unsure if you’ll even hear from him again. 

Your doorman, Paul, informs you of a visitor. A visitor? At this time? Unable to even comprehend what’s going on, you press the button to confirm opening the door, and wait. 

Your bunny slippered feet tap your coffee table anxiously. Is it your mom? Here to inform you of someone’s death? Or is it your best friend from college who couldn’t come to your party? Or is it —

You’re broken from your racing thoughts as a timid knock on the door echoes through the house. You shuffle hesitantly over to the door, unable to even bring yourself to look through the peephole. 

Closing your eyes while pulling open the door, the absolute wind is knocked out of you as you eye up your waiting guest. 

He’s tall, tanned and gorgeous as his photos. It’s unfair to look like this after stepping off what she assumes was a red eye flight. He looks exhausted. His lip and nose are busted, and he has a yellowing bruise on his left eye.

“W-what?” you flounder in disbelief.

His hands fold together at your reaction, unsure if he should hug you or keep a respectable distance. He opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself. He’ll play by your rules.

“What the fuck is going on?” 

You look adorable. The sleep barely wiped from your eyes. Slight bed head and disheveled silk pajamas. Harry is in disbelief that this is the woman he’s come to realize his feelings for.

“I know this is so fucked up,” he trails off. “Coming here. I don’t deserve even a minute of your time, but I needed to come here and tell you how fucking sorry I am. How deep into the superficial bullshit I got. I took advantage of you and your kindness and I lost myself in the process.”

You must look flabbergasted, because he inches closer, placing his hands gently on your arms. His touch is searing, but the first reminder that he’s actually standing in front of you and not an extremely lifelike apparition. 

“I-I,” you stumble.

“We don’t even have to talk right now. You can send me away, if you need. But I’m here, I’m here in New York and I want to change. I want to be better for you. These last few days— when I had absolutely nothing — made me realize something.”

His eyes are now earnest and starting to tear up. Your reflection is so clear in his tide pool green irises. 

“I had nothing, and it made me realizing you’re my everything.”

His profession had you clutching your metaphorical pearls. Your heart is racing, sending your central nervous system into a tizzy. You know he’s not lying, because he’s looking dead in your eyes waiting for your reply.

“H-Harry, I don’t even know what to say,” you stall. Your body knows what it wants to say.

“I know and like I said, if you need time, I underst—”

“If you’re here and you’re not bullshitting me; you really want to change. Then, you’ll fuck me like it.”

If Harry’s jaw could drop to the basement, it would. Instead of word vomiting, he lunges forward, guiding both of your bodies back to the hallway and placing a panty-dropping kiss on your lips. He doesn’t even have time to admire your beautiful home.

You break the kiss, grabbing his wrist to lead him to your room. The sheets are mussed, your clothes are all over, but you can’t even begin to fucking care. You all but dive back onto your bed, pulling your nightgown up to reveal your bare, perfect pussy. 

Harry drops to his knees, wrapping his hands around your thighs. The photos and the FaceTimes don’t do any justice to the sight in front of him. You’re complete and utter perfection. 

He waits for your approval before leaning forward to lick from back to front. Your back arches slightly, throwing your ankles over his shoulder. His fingertips dig into your skin deliciously, so you grab onto your blankets for dear life. 

“Give it to me, Missy. I’ve been waiting two years for this perfect cunt. What the fuck was I waiting for?”

You laugh, not expecting his sense of humor at this moment. For the last few months, it’s been like talking to a robot. It was an exchange of goods and services. But here, in front of you, is a man. A man who’s willing to change his ways for you. The man you’ve waited all your life for. 

“Always here for you. It’s yours,” you purr, placing your hands on top of his. 

He growls, vigorously licking into you. He removes his right hand to insert his two middle fingers into your center. This has you howling, unable to even remember the last time a man did this for you. 

“Baby, baby. I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum for you, finally,” you whine, focusing on the immeasurable pleasure stemming from your legs. 

“Mhm, I can feel you, Mama. Let go for me,” he begs, making direct eye contact with you. 

It’s the moment you lock eyes that you’re letting go. All the stars are aligning and symphonies are playing in your head.

“Ah, ah! There, Harry!”

Harry keens at hearing his name roll off your tongue. He slides up your body to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. You grab at his under shirt, insinuating that you want it off.

He peels it off and cheekily pulls your tit out of your nightie. He winks before connecting his lips to your nipple, rolling his tongue around the bud and sucking gently. 

“Please, want you inside me. Gimme my big cock, baby.” 

“It’s yours, Mama. All of me.”

Harry slides his briefs down his legs, revealing the main event. His dick swings slightly before hitting him in the stomach. You moan, unable to wait even another minute for him.

“Please,” you cry out, scratching down his chest. 

He lines himself up, moaning in ecstasy as he pushes in. Your mouth falls open, a silent whine escaping. 

“So big, baby. I should’ve flown out to you the minute you sent me a dick pic. Like a fucking middle schooler.”

Now Harry is laughing. He’s in disbelief that he would ever treat you the way he did. The clarity from the last few days is damning.

His pumps are getting faster and longer, bottoming out every other thrust. He looks down to where you’re connected, your pussy lips wrapped around him deliciously, a slight white substance leaking out of you. He leans down to kiss you, wanting this connection he’s subconsciously wanted since he met you. 

“Want you to cum with me, Missy. Cum with me. Want to show you I mean it. I mean everything I said.”

You gently put your hand on his cheek, to which he immediately nuzzles in at the touch. 

“I know you mean it, baby. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

He nods, leaning down to kiss you again, his thrusts slowing but still ramming you to the hilt.

“You close?”

“Yes, baby boy. Cum with me, I’m cumming now.”

Harry’s cock twitches as he bumps your walls before releasing long and deep into you. You push your noses together, lips ghosting over one another’s. 

Harry is finally home. 

“You’re gonna fucking pay for this, little brat.”

He flashes a shit eating grin, kissing you again.

“I expect nothing less.”

And I don't ever Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back