#h styles

[barkrry]

you remember when...? - masterlist // walk through fire for you It wasn’t unusual for YN to turn up at the Styles house out of the blue, it was basically her second home. Whether Harry was there or not, she was let in to hang out with the rest of his family.

This time wasn’t any different, though she did turn up looking a bit upset. Anne didn’t question it too much, allowing her in and calling Harry from his room.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Anne asked, gently stroking her cheek after she had removed her shoes and jacket. She didn’t know what had upset the young teen, but she was always happy to listen whenever possible. Even if she was just complaining about her son.

“Y-yeah,” YN breathed out, her eyes falling on Harry on the stairs behind her. “Hi,” she whispered to him, as fresh tears were leaking out of her eyes. And he was quickly rushing down the last of the steps to hug her against his body.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Baby,” he whispered in her ear, rubbing her back as he tried to be as supportive as possible. He may not know what had his girlfriend in tears, but he would do anything to bring back her smile.

“Can we- can we talk in- your room?” She managed to get out, lifting her head from his shoulder. Her face wet as she sucked on her bottom lip, and he was quickly nodding his head without a second thought. His hand slipping into hers and gently taking her upstairs to his room. She had been in here many times before, if they weren’t here, then they were at her own place. But Anne gave them more privacy than her own mother, so it was common they ended up here. Harry was pulling back his duvet, crawling into the bed and opening his arms for her. And she had zero hesitation as she was crawling into his bed and cuddled up to him.

“What’s wrong, flower?” He whispered to her, his fingers gently stroking through her hair as he leaned against his headboard.

“You remember- remember when my parents were away for that night, and- and you lied to your mum about sleeping over- at- at Jake’s?”

“And I was actually at yours,” he added, frowning a little as he looked down at her. “I couldn’t forget that night, you know that.”

Of course he couldn’t forget, it was the first time they had sex. They had lost their virginities to each other, and he would never ever forget that night for that reason. There had been so much love in the room, and it had been more magical than he could have ever predicted.

“Harry, I’m pregnant,” she announced to him, her voice flat. Her fingers curled into the hoodie he wore, but she didn’t dare tilt her head to catch his reaction. She didn’t want to see it.

They were 16, freshly turned. Their GCSE’s were soon, and this was the last thing they ever dreamed about having to worry about. They were definitely not ready to be parents, they were still kids themselves.

“Y-you’re- how sure?” Harry stuttered, though his hand hadn’t stopped caressing through her hair. YN raised her eyes slightly to meet his, though her vision was blurred from the amount of tears being held there. “Oh— fuck— baby,” he breathed out, cradling her head and holding her against his body, his own face screwing up slightly. Hearing her scared sobs against his neck had his heart breaking, and he had no idea on how to fix this.

The couple laid there for a while, as YN let out all of her tears and Harry held his own back. It’s not that he didn’t cry, or he didn’t want to. He just wanted to focus on his flower for now, and deal with his own emotions once things were sorted

An hour later, YN had cried herself to sleep, and Harry was carefully laying her down against his pillow. It wasn’t the first time they had ended up asleep in his bed, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Anne didn’t seem to mind, she knew they would be safe. And as much as he wanted to join her, he knew she would be extremely dehydrated when she woke up.

Making the trek down to the kitchen, his hoodie still damp with the tears of his girlfriend as he was opening the fridge door. Movement behind him followed by footsteps on the staircase suggested to him that Gemma was leaving him and his mum alone. To talk.

“Is YN alright? Fight with her family?” Anne asked, leaning against the sink with her arms folded against her chest, concern clear as day on her expression.

It wasn’t that YN had a poor relationship with her family, but it was known that she would butt heads with her mum more often than not. Usually when it came to that time of the month, where all their cycles were synced and it was just hormones going out of control. Anne was more than aware of these, being a shoulder to cry on for the young girl many times.

“N—no, not her family,” Harry said, sounding dismissive as he was taking out his water bottle. Hanging on the door as he searched for a suitable snack for when his girlfriend woke up.

“H, she was— I’ve never heard her cry like that, is she okay?” And honestly, that alone had Harry’s heart doing flips. He loved that his mother cared for his girlfriend so much, that she had been accepted into the family though they were only young and in love, as YN’s own parents would say.

“She’s—“ Harry shut the fridge door, biting down on his lip as he glanced at his mother. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything, he knew his mother would never be outwardly mad at him or YN. Not to their faces. “We had sex.”

The way Harry had delivered the line, it was perfectly deadpan. And it had left Anne a little stunned, as she was definitely not expecting that response from her youngest at all. Of course, she knew they had been experimenting a little, and that’s why she gave them the space they needed. If they didn’t do it in the comfort of one of their houses, they’d be doing it somewhere they could end up arrested. And she had spoken to Harry about using condoms, and even supplied him with some the same day.

“Okay, and— does she regret it, or, feel like she didn’t… perform?” Anne asked him, trying to understand why her sons girlfriend would be crying because of sex.

“No— well— okay, she probably does regret it, but not for—“ he huffed, his fingers curling in his brown curls, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. “She’s pregnant, mum.”

And you could hear a penny drop. Harry’s head tilted slightly to see his mothers stunned reaction, as she tried her best to collect her thoughts.

“Did you—“

“We used a condom, I guess— maybe— it broke? Or?” He shrugged, leaning against the kitchen cupboards as he sighed. “Mum… I don’t know how to help her,” he breathed out defeatedly, shaking his head as he set the water bottle on the side. 

And then Harry crumbled, letting down the wall he was using to hold YN up. His mum quick to catch him, allowing him to sob into her arms this time.

When YN woke up, alone in her boyfriends bed, she was changing out of her hoodie and slipping on one of his. Loving the fact that his scent engulfed her the second she did, before she was making her way downstairs to find her lover.

In the kitchen, sat next to his mother at the breakfast table. Cup of tea in hand, mid sentence when the sound of the fridge opening caught their attention.

“Oh— fuck— I was supposed to bring up some water for you,” Harry confessed, looking guilty as he watched her pull out a fresh, cold water bottle and open it. Downing half of it instantly before she was shuffling her way over to him and his mum. “Feel better?” He mumbled, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as she pulled her seat close to his and snuggled up into his side.

Her head shook slightly, laying her head against his shoulder as she played with her water bottle. Sucking on her bottom lip, enjoying the feeling of his lips pressing against her hair.

“YN… Harry told me what’s going on,” Anne confessed, which had YN’s eyes snapping to meet hers in a panic. “No— don’t worry, okay? He had a bit of a cry, only telling me cause he didn’t know how to help you. And I’m not mad,” she explained, an encouraging smile on her face as she looked at the teen girl.

“You’re not?” She whispered, biting at her bottom lip as her fingers found their way into Harry’s hoodie pocket.

“Not at all. H explained what he thinks might have happened that night, and it’s probable the condom was faulty,” she said, nodding as her hands readjusted their grip on her mug. “The only thing that needs to be worked out is… what do you want to do?”

And YN kind of felt like a deer in headlights as both Anne and Harry were looking at her. And she definitely didn’t have an answer. Yet.

#harry styles #h styles #harry #styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #fanfic #fanfiction #barkrry #walk through fire for you universe

[venusjaynie]

would anyone read a harry styles social media au fic?

#cause i have one started in my drafts and i really like it #but i dont wanna post it if no one will read it #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #h styles #lhh #love on tour #social media au #jaynes thoughts

[aprilmidnights]

written in the stars; a harry styles universe 🌠(masterlist)

follow the story of harry styles and octavia moon on a journey of so called love, which began on a late summer night in 2021 <3

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

send all the asks, questions, concepts, ideas, suggestions and requests you want! i would literally love to answer or write them :)

wine-stained dress, how they met

quiet moments, between the two

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry x reader #dadrry #harry update #fanfic #hs #fine line #harry #styles #harry styles universe #famous harry #h styles #harry styles x oc #written in the stars universe

[ysmyllove]

listening to hs3 while doing hw 🤭 specifically keep driving rn

#hs3 #h styles #harry #harrys house #homework

[wazzupmrstark]

harry's house definitely surpassed my expectations... i'll admit it

#i just overplayed fine line and it got old #and that's on me #h styles #personal

[mazhazalotofthoughts]

This is long but really important after the Greg James used they/them for Harry and then corrected himself. Please have a read, it’s important

Just had a long ass Twitter argument without someone. It was about how talking and speculating about H’s gender is invasive and disrespectful, how assuming or saying he’s not cis is not okay and… I have lots of thoughts about this. We, as people, categorize everything. This includes assigning strangers a gender. We assume everyone’s gender. The people who serve us food at restaurants, the bus drivers and cafeteria workers at schools. We automatically assign them a gender, it’s just what we do. It’s not wrong, it’s not something that needs to be stopped, it’s just part of being human. And as humans, we all have a gender, whether it be a binary gender, one outside it, or the absence of gender, we all share the experience of gender and how we express it.

Harry is first and foremost a human, but he’s also a public figure. The majority of his life has been picked apart and dissected. From who he’s dating, to the car he drives, he’s no stranger to invasive probing into his life. Now, when we talk about Harry as a public figure, and knowing the industry he’s in, we can collectively agree that the music industry is extremely homophobic, especially towards men who’s core demographic are young women. Harry, who for all he’s said and done is queer, can’t even come out in 2022. He has done and said all the right things. He sang Medicine at cochella along with Boyfriends. He’s practically Freddie mercury incarnate on stage. For all intents and purposes he is a queer icon in pop music. He has never had to explicitly come out in order for people to pick up on the fact that he’s not straight. And he shouldn’t have to. Queer people don’t need to come out in order to be queer. They’re gonna be queer whether they’re out or not, whether they dress in rainbows or defy every stereotype out there. Now, when it comes to gender, it’s a similar but different story. We are just, in western society, recognizing genders beyond the two binary ones. Though they have existed in other cultures for centuries, due to colonization, they’re only just becoming accepted in western culture now. This means that as homosexuality is just becoming tolerated by the majority, trans and genderqueer identities are under attack and greatly misunderstood. Most people don’t even know what it means when I say I use they/them pronouns or identify as non binary- most people being adults. Youth are much more accepting as we are growing up with it becoming so normalized and common. But while the majority of the population being blissfully unaware of any gender identity outside man or woman, it’s hard to navigate the world as someone who doesn’t fit into its binary structures. But, what is nice is knowing that other genderqueer and queer people, even allies who are aware of everything will see me for who I am without explicitly needed to come out. Whether it’s asking for my pronouns, automatically defaulting to they/them, double checking what I’m okay with being referred to as, they just know that I’m not cis. They know because of the choices I make in the way I express myself. It’s the clothes I wear, my mannerisms, my jokes, my blatant display of masculinity and femininity in the same outfit. At my university, if you dressed androgynously, people just assumed you were nonbinary unless stated otherwise. It was protocol to ask for people's pronouns and gender. It was normal because gender wasn’t a thing that was shameful or something to be shoved away. Cis or not, gender was something to be celebrated. So when I look at H, and see so many queer codes that are recognized within the trans community it makes me think. I’m not making everything he does about gender, I’m just seeing things that stand out to me and make me go “that’s not something a cis man would do”. Not many cis men who are 21 would sit down and order womens jeans knowing he’d have to tuck to wear them. Not many cis men want to be female rock stars. Not many cis men relate to female mermaids or see themselves as a mermaid- a huge visual in the trans community in the uk. Not many cis men would write songs about the complexities of gender and the longing for the freedom to be feminine. A lot of trans and genderqueer people would though. And that’s not assuming anything. It would be had i said Harry’s trans because he painted his nails or wears a dress, it’s so much deeper and complex than that. Myself and so many other trans people recognize ourselves in H because of all the small, complex things that he does, that all we trans folks do. Me and other people pointing this out, bringing attention to our belief that H might be genderqueer is not invasive or disrespectful, it’s stating what we see and bringing it to light. I guarantee you that H could not care less about our Twitter threads or tumblr posts about his gender. I bet he giggles when he sees a tweet

#harry styles #harry is gender #harry’s house #genderqueer #harry’s gender #non binary #nonbinary #what is gender #gender noncomformity #gender fluidity #angle sue #gender? #gender exploration #hs identity #harry is queer #h styles

[renatofilomena]

Harry Styles - As It Was

#music #H Styles

[cupid-styles]

only angel (tattoo artist/plug harry)

in which harry owns a tattoo shop, sells weed on the side, and has a big crush on y/n, a shy virgin who's very much enamored by him.

here is part one of tattoo/plug harry!!! I hope you like it :) please lmk if you'd like more from them <3

word count: 10.2k (!!!!)

content warnings: y/n's parents being unkind people, comments and discussions about weight/disordered eating, fainting (caused by a piercing), smut! (y/n's first time being fingered, dirty talk, harry being a soft dom)

masterlist | talk to me

part two

. . .

Y/N doesn't know why she's here.

If the glares from the employees of the tattoo and piercing shop are anything to go off of, they don't know why she's here either. And it all makes this whole thing even more embarrassing.

In reality, she does have a reason to be here. Mai, one of the few friends she's made in her grad school program, asked if she would drive her down to The Village for a tattoo appointment she had.

Y/N's eyes nearly bulged out of her skull when she asked, especially when she pressed for more details about this tattoo she was getting (it was a strawberry just above her hip, which Y/N didn't quite understand considering she thought tattoos were supposed to be meaningful). But, ever the pushover, Mai ended up convincing her, going as far as getting her to come inside — the one boundary she had — and wait while she got it done.

(Thankfully, her parents had some benefit charity thing going on today, so they weren't concerned with Y/N's whereabouts or where she was taking the car they bought her on a Saturday afternoon.)

The shop, called St. Mark's Place Social Club (aptly named, she supposes, considering it's located on St. Mark's Place), is nice. Unlike what she imagined tattoo parlors would look like in her brain, the spot Mai chose to get tattooed at seems sanitary and actually quite trendy.

It's not wildly crowded with customers hustling and bustling around, but there's a few artists at work at their own small stations. The walls are painted a cozy forest green, all donning frames upon frames of, what Y/N assumes are, sheets of tattoo designs. The receptionist who checked Mai in even offered them some water, which Y/N thinks was very nice.

"Are you nervous at all?" Y/N asks quietly as they sit in the rattan chairs in the waiting area. Mai's filling out some questionnaire on an iPad, but she shakes her head at her question, crossing her legs. 

"No, not really," she murmurs nonchalantly, "I have a few tattoos already and I've been here before. The artist that's doing it is really cool and he's so hot."

Y/N's mouth forms around an oh as Mai quickly taps her signature into the tablet. She stands from the rickety chair and walks back over to return it to the front, her heeled boots clacking against the wood floor as she does. 

Y/N has her gaze set low in her lap, eyes passing over her fresh manicure (her mother has a standing weekly appointment for her). She doesn't even notice that someone's standing over her — more so, towering over her — until the figure clears his throat, her head snapping up to address them. Assuming she's done something wrong (what it is, she isn't sure), she goes to apologize immediately, but the long haired man in front of her cuts her off.

"You have an appointment?" 

Instantly, she flounders. Her mouth drops open as she stumbles over an answer: "I— um, no, I'm not— no, no appointment."

"So you're a walk-in, then?"

"N-no," she shakes her head quickly, his all-black outfit forming a blur in front of her eyes, "No, I'm not getting a tattoo."

The man laughs. He actually laughs at her, and Y/N doesn't know whether she should be embarrassed or pleased that she's made this very attractive man smile.

"You're sitting in a tattoo shop. You know that, right?" the stranger crosses his heavily tattooed arms over his chest, and Y/N's eyes fly to the swirls of black ink covering his skin. They're everywhere; all different fonts and images and numbers and... she wonders if he even knows what they all mean or how many he has. 

"Yes," she finally manages out, folding her hands neatly in her lap. It's the default body language she goes to when she's nervous — when she was a teenager, her parents paid for her to go to social etiquette classes, and the instructor told her that this was a good way to show that she was in control of her actions, even if underneath her pastel pink turtleneck, her chest was covered in hives. "No, I'm not getting a tattoo. I'm here with someone getting one."

Thankfully (though Y/N would've preferred it happening about two minutes earlier), Mai walks back over to them, a grin taking over her features when she spots the man talking to her.

"Harry!" she greets excitedly, and Y/N watches as his eyes flicker over to her, flashing a tight smile in her direction.

"Ah. This is who you're here with." he — Harry, apparently — says to Y/N. She doesn't know what she's supposed to say to that (if she's supposed to say anything), but any response is once again cut off. "Hey. You ready?"

She only now notices the gum wedged between his teeth, his jaw moving in a hypnotizing way. His tone appears to be far more clipped with Mai, but Y/N is fast to chalk it up to some fluke. Maybe the other employees mentioned something to Harry and they thought she was in the wrong place or something. That would make sense, she thinks.

"Yeah, all good. I'll see you in a bit, Y/N," Mai nods, swinging her bag over her shoulder, focusing her attention to Harry, "So listen, I'm going to a show in midtown tonight, I was thinking maybe after we finish up here we can—"

"Are you coming back with us?" Harry's eyes fall back onto Y/N, and it's only then that she realizes he's talking to her again.

"Uh... am I allowed to?"

He smirks. Y/N's chest feels like it may concave in simply from the sight.

"I own this place, so yeah, you're allowed to."

Mai's tapping her foot impatiently now, her hip popped out slightly with her arms crossed over her chest. "My appointment started a few minutes ago, Harry—"

"Okay," he says curtly, turning on his heel to face her, "Go in the back and get ready then. You know where my station is."

Both Mai's and Y/N's jaws drop at that, his snappy tone clearly not one to fight back on. Surprisingly, Mai does just that, turning around and walking back to where Harry has his things set up. 

"You coming, then? Y/N, right?" 

The teasing smirk is still painted over his features, as if he finds humor in outwardly rejecting Mai's advances. Y/N doesn't know why her heart beats a little bit faster at that, warmth spreading from her chest to the rest of her body as he continues gazing down at her.

"Y-yeah," she answers, grabbing her purse and standing up. "If it's not too big of a deal."

"Course not. C'mon, you can follow me."

. . .

Mai's tattoo comes out beautiful.

However, Y/N can hardly focus on the artistry and apparent talent because she's far too busy staring at Harry, who also looks beautiful while he works.

It's distracting, embarrassingly so, that she barely even registers when he's finished wrapping her new tattoo in some sort of clear wrap, sending her back up to pay. Quickly, Y/N scrambles to grab her things, realizing that she's once again left alone with Harry.

"What, running away so soon?" He asks as he cleans up his work station, spinning around to face her in his chair. He has that smirk on his face again — the one that simultaneously intimidates her and makes her entire body burst into flames — and anxiety begins to eat away at her, nervous of saying the wrong thing.

"I just— you're done. So I was gonna go."

"How do you know Mai?" 

It bothers her somewhat that he ignores her, but being the subject of his intense glint, she shifts her stance from foot to foot, shrugging her shoulders.

"We're in the same grad program. We've had a few classes together." she answers obediently, clutching the strap of her purse closer to her shoulder. 

"Mm," he hums, tossing some paper towels in the trash, "You sure you didn't want any tattoos today?"

Y/N's face erupts into a hot flush for the thousandth time today and she instantly begins to shake her head. "No. No, thank you, I mean. My parents would kill me."

"Your parents?" Harry asks, a slightly stupefied expression on his face. "You're in grad school. Surely you don't make decisions on your appearance based off of them."

He punctuates his sentence by giving her a once-over and she feels nervous under his gaze. She's never particularly felt good about her appearance. She's always just felt... neutral. She grew up with a mother who was constantly dieting, imparting weight loss tips on her every chance she got. When Y/N hit puberty, her father made comments about how grateful he was to finally see her drop the "baby weight". Even now, her mother critiqued her, making comments about how important it was to maintain a good figure; that she'd never find someone to spend her life with if she didn't take care of her looks.

So, all in all, it was safe to say that tattoos were extremely off the table for Y/N. 

"It's complicated," she finally replies vaguely. She knows that most people in their mid-20s aren't as deep under the thumb of their parents as she is, but she wasn't lying when she said this — the circumstances weren't as black and white as she wished they were.

However, there was something she'd always been curious about, and she had seen the piercing rates out in the front of the shop.

"But, um— do you guys do piercings?" she follows up before Harry has a chance to question her parents any further. 

"We do," he replies slowly, "Well, yeah, I do. Why, are you thinking about getting something pierced?"

She swears his eyes quickly glance to her chest, but just as quickly as she notices it, they're focused back on her face. She clears her throat, willing herself to have an ounce of self-confidence. 

"I was wondering if I could get my ears pierced."

Harry quirks an eyebrow and stands from his chair. Her heart rate speeds up tenfold when he walks over to her, his hand reaching outward. 

"May I?" he asks, pausing before he makes any movements. She nods, hoping he misses the way her throat bobs in nervousness. Gently, he pushes some of her hair behind her ear, taking a look at the lobe. He does it to the other one and she wonders if he can sense that she's holding her breath. 

"Hm, you really don't have them pierced," he mumbles lowly, eyes flitting back to her face. "Yeah, we could do that if you'd like. You sure daddy won't get too pissed?"

He says it with a simper though she's not entirely sure why; she thinks if he understood the dynamic between her and her parents, he'd be more concerned than teasing. Nevertheless, she shakes her head. 

"Like you said," she says softly, blinking as they stare back at one another, "I shouldn't make decisions on my appearance based on what they want."

His smirk breaks into a grin, and for the first time, Y/N feels like she's doing something right.

. . .

Y/N didn't think she would be this nervous to get her first piercing, but between the gorgeous man invading her space with a needle and the fact that Mai definitely won't want to be her friend anymore, she's feeling a little tense.

Before getting situated in the chair, Y/N said that she needed to tell Mai she'd be a bit longer, but Harry waved her off and told her he'd take care of it. Apparently, that just meant peeking his head out from his work station and yelling out to Mai that Y/N was busy and wouldn't be driving her home. (Y/N thinks she heard Mai practically stomp out of the shop.)

So now, she's spending her Saturday the last way she thought she would: With her eyes squeezed shot, anxiety making her heart thump far too fast in her chest, with a long-haired tattoo artist hunched over her body. He's so close that she can smell the woody fragrance of his cologne, and she has to resist breathing it in as she inhales deeply in an effort to calm her heart rate.

"Alright, you ready?" Harry asks lowly, his tone a groveled murmur that sends tingles down her spine. She nods, feeling particularly speechless from his closeness and her nerves. "'kay, I'm gonna count to three. Take a deep breath."

Y/N imagines he looks especially gorgeous right now, but she's too scared to open her eyes and see the needle he's about to puncture her skin with. Instead, she simply nods her head again, mentally preparing herself for the countdown. 

"Breathe, dove," he says calmly. Her stomach jumps at the pet name but does as he says. "Good. Okay... 1, 2, 3."

She jumps from the bite of pain that stings her earlobe, instantly wedging her bottom lip between her teeth as he shushes her. 

"It's alright, that was it," he murmurs, though she can still feel him at her side, carefully wiggling the earring into the newly formed hole. "Y/N? You okay?"

She blinks her teary eyes open and opens her mouth, willing her throat to push out a yes. Instead, Harry's face goes blurry as the images in front of her get hazy. In a panic, she tries to stand, the ringing in her ears sending loud alarms to her brain. She thinks she hears Harry tell her to sit down, his strong arms taking a hold of her own — but that's when everything goes dark. 

. . .

Harry's known this girl for all of two hours, and he's never felt panic ravish his body the way it did when she passed out a few minutes ago. 

Thankfully, she comes to less than two minutes later (he counted), but he remains by her side the entire time, gently stroking her hair back. As a professional tattoo artist and piercer, he's of course had people faint under the needle, but it's never happened from just a standard ear piercing. 

He supposes he maybe should've prepared himself for this. The sweet girl who accompanied Mai didn't look like she belonged at St. Mark's Social Club, but the moment his eyes zeroed in on her, he felt pulled to her. From the pastel pink top that stretched over her chest to the white ribbon tied in her hair, she was the opposite of any girl he's ever been attracted to — and yet, all he wanted was to tuck her under his arm, pull her into his chest, and spend the rest of his life protecting her.

Harry tells himself he's being stupid; some lovesick nerd that just needs to get his cock touched, but as he watches her slowly nurse a cup of water, warmth returning to her complexion, every doubt is thrown out the window. 

"I'm so sorry," Y/N pouts, lifting a hand to run through her hair, "I'm... I feel so stupid, I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Why are you apologizing?" he asks through furrowed brows. "It's not your fault. People pass out all the time here, you have nothing to be sorry about."

"Y-yeah, but this is annoying... you probably have another appointment coming up and—"

"I don't."

"Yeah, but—"

"Y/N?"

"What?"

"Stop it."

She huffs, but the apologies stop after that. With his arms crossed over his chest, leaning back against the wall, he watches to make sure she finishes her water. He can tell she's still feeling embarrassed and it bothers him that she thinks of herself as something to feel sorry about.

"Y'know, kinda looked like some kind of badass Sleeping Beauty while you were passed out," Harry says with a smirk, making her eyes widen, "Pretty cute, if you ask me."

Y/N's face warms and he chuckles, deciding that making this girl blush is his new favorite past time. 

"You're being silly." she mumbles, finishing off the water with a final swig. He shakes his head and takes the empty cup from her hand, tossing it in the garbage can behind her. 

"Would never lie to you, dove. We're going on what, three hours of knowing each other? I wouldn't even dream of it."

"Harry," she whines and it makes him immediately grin, especially as she pushes her bottom lip out in a slight pout, "Shush, stop it."

"Think I should just call you princess from now on, hm? Such a pretty face coming in here, think I got lucky having you pass out on me."

He laughs loudly when her lips part, her jaw slack from the compliment. She doesn't have a comeback for that one, but he assumed as much. He turns to face the cabinets behind him and grabs a paper towel and a pen, quickly scrawling out his number on it before handing it to her.

"This is my number. I'm not gonna do your second piercing today 'cos that sounds like a recipe for disaster, but I want you to text me when you wanna come in and get it done," he explains, "I only work here on the weekend, but I'll come by any day you're free, princess."

She shuffles her feet before nodding her head, stuffing the paper towel in her bag. "O-okay. That sounds good."

"Good," Harry breathes, reaching out to for her hand to help her up, "Do you need a ride home?"

"No!" her eyes dart away from his face, blinking quickly as she focuses on the dark green walls. "Um, no, thank you. You've done enough for me today. I appreciate it, Harry."

"Sure," he says slowly, narrowing his eyes at her, "Okay, well... get home safe for me, alright?"

"I will." she nods and punctuates her sentence with a harsh swallow. "Can I... is it okay if I text you when I get home?" 

A gentle smile wiggles its way onto Harry's face, warmth filling his body once again. 

"You took the words right out of my mouth, princess."

. . .

To: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)

hi, im home!! im so sorry again for what happened but thank you sm for making sure i was okay. hope it wasn't too inconvenient! 

Y/N's never texted a boy she has a crush on (well, except for Jason Saunders in the 8th grade, but her dad found out within the hour and made her delete his number as he watched). She thinks she must still be lightheaded from fainting because there's no way she can seriously have a crush on someone she barely knows, but nonetheless, she pushes herself to message him to at least thank him for everything he did for her. 

She sighs as she throws her phone in her purse and climbs out of her Range Rover. Locking the doors, she crosses her fingers as she walks up the stairs and to the elevator of the luxury garage, pressing the penthouse button on the panel. She hopes her parents are still out — if they're home, she'll be on the receiving end of their badgering for the rest of the evening, and she still wants to work on a paper she has due later next week.

When the sleek elevator doors open, she's met with silence — the only telltale sign that she's alone, with the exception of her parents' private chef and maid. Relief floods her body as she steps out and into the apartment, toeing her shoes off in the entryway and taking quiet steps to her bedroom. 

She's exhausted from the day, flopping down on her bed with a sigh. Mindlessly, she feels for her phone in her bag, pulling it out to scroll through Instagram before she commits to doing work for the rest of the night. Instead, she's met with not one, but two texts from Harry.

Remember what I said about apologizing, princess?

Glad you made it home safely. Don't forget to text me about your second piercing — just name the day and I'm there. xx

She wants to let out a squeal, even if there's a large part of her brain that's constantly reminding her to limit her excitement. He's probably just being polite, she says to herself. 

Still, it doesn't stop her from replying a mere moment later, promising to restrain her apologies and message him when she's ready to get her other ear pierced. 

. . .

"Where were you yesterday?" 

Y/N blinks at her father as she sets down the spatula, shifting her attention from the buckwheat pancakes she's currently cooking. 

"Studying on campus," she replies easily, even if she had to coach herself all night to lie. She's never one to fib, let alone to her parents — she's always felt some type of fear when it comes to her father, but she knows he never would have approved if she gave him some vague answer about taking a friend to an appointment. 

He lets out a noncommittal humph. "You know there's no reason for you to be getting a masters degree when you'll just work at the company when you graduate."

Her stomach tightens. It's a frequent area of contention between she and her parents — their dream for her has always been to work at their jewelry company as soon as she graduated college, but she somehow managed to convince them to entertain her wish to go to graduate school for an English degree. They told her she could do it as long as she starts at their office as soon as graduation comes around.

She hasn't quite yet figured out how she's getting out of that one. If she even can.

"I know, father," Y/N forces out, redirecting her attention to flipping the pancakes on the pan. "It's just important that I get good grades."

"I can't imagine it's very difficult. You speak the language."

She bites her tongue. Her parents have never understood her love for books, always scolding her for having her head in the clouds from a young age. If she's being honest, books have served as a way for her to escape, always wishing she could be the girl getting whisked away by her romantic interest. 

Things always worked out in her books. Potentially having a happy ending like the ones she reads about is the only thing that keeps her going sometimes. 

Her mother, looking pristine as always even at 9 in the morning, enters the kitchen just as Y/N's sitting down to her eat. Turning stiffly, her eyes narrow at her daughter. 

"Those better not be full fat, Y/N." she says, jabbing her pointer finger at her plate. 

"They're not." Y/N says softly.

In response, she simply hums. "I don't understand why you don't just have Freya make you food. She's there for a reason."

Y/N quickly stuffs a bite of pancake into her mouth, shrugging her shoulders as she slowly chews. She's never felt comfortable requesting their chef make her anything to eat when she was perfectly capable of doing it herself. 

"Don't shrug. It's not ladylike," she scolds, Y/N's posture immediately straightening, "We have a lunch meeting with the Franklin family today. If you're available, you should come. You need to start learning the business."

"I have to work on a paper," the lie rolls off her tongue, knowing full well that she nearly finished it last night, "Finals are coming up. School is getting very busy."

"You know, Y/N, you're lucky we grant you all this freedom." her mother spits, the high heels of her Louboutin shoes clacking against the marbled flooring. "One day, you're not going to have this much of a choice in how you spend your time."

Despite only eating half a pancake, Y/N no longer feels hungry. Instead, she just nods her head and rolls her lips into her mouth. 

"You're right. Thank you for everything you do for me." 

She clears her dishes and goes back to her bedroom before her parents have a chance to see the tears streaming down her cheeks.

. . .

Y/N spends the better part of Sunday crying in her bedroom. 

She's so exhausted of this cycle. Her parents work so hard to tear her down all the time, never once taking into account what her dreams and aspirations are. She feels like she can't do anything right, as if nothing she'll do will ever please them. 

In her fit of anger and sadness, she decides she needs to leave Harry behind. He's just a pipe dream, a tiny little sliver of what her life could be if she had less restrictive parents. That night, when she's laying awake in bed, she decides that in the morning, she'll take the fresh piercing out and throw the earring away, delete his number, apologize to Mai, and pretend like this weekend never even happened.

That is the plan, anyway.

Until she wakes up to her alarm at 8 am and she has an unopened text from him, and her heart beats in a way that she's never truly felt before. She doesn't think she's ever smiled this wide after just waking up, the mere appearance of his name on her screen sending waves of hope and happiness throughout her body. 

From: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)

How's the piercing holding up? 

After getting home on Saturday, he texted her a series of care instructions for the piercing, instructing her to clean it twice a day, twist the earring, and let him know if anything felt off. She wasn't sure what it was, but she felt particularly giddy when he told her what to do. 

To: Harry (St. Mark's Social Club)

good!! no pain or anything and ive been doing what you told me to :)

She has a class at 10 this morning and she knows she should follow her typical routine of a shower, breakfast, and getting ready, but instead, she just lays back in the fluffy tufts of her bedding, smiling to herself as she waits for Harry to text back. A minute or so later, her phone vibrates.

Good girl.

Think you'll come in for your second anytime soon?

Her stomach twists in a delicious way but she's not sure why. There's nothing inherently sexual about what he's messaged her, but it has her craving more, a steady heartbeat forming somewhere deep in her core. 

Her eyes read over his question and she bites her lip. She knows that less than 10 hours ago, she was planning to forget Harry, but the feeling he gives her is addictive. She doesn't want to stay away — so she won't.

yeah, if you don't mind doing it :)) maybe today? 

In reality, she doesn't want to go under the needle again so soon, but she's craving to see him. He did say he'd come in any day for her.

Harry: I'd love to. What time are you free?

Y/N: i have classes from 10 to 1 today.. would 1:30 work? i can come by on my way home from campus

Harry: How about I meet you at your last class and we walk to the shop together?

Y/N swears her heart is going to beat right out of her chest. Her parents have never allowed her to hang out with a guy outside of anyone they approved of — over the years, they've attempted setting her up with other men of their same financial and social stature, but Y/N was never interested. As a result, they all grew bored of her by the second date, and her parents would yell at her for not being appealing enough. 

She doesn't know if Harry will be bothered by the same thing, but she wants — no, she needs — to find out.

Y/N: okay:) 

Harry: Great. Can't wait to see you. x

. . .

Harry knows he's pushing it.

This girl may as well have wealthy virgin tattooed across her forehead, but he just can't get himself to stay away. It doesn't seem like she wants him to either, which just makes it harder. And as he's waiting for her outside of her lecture hall on a campus he's never even step foot on, he realizes that they're from very, very different universes. 

That doesn't really bother him. He can see the obvious differences — he wears all black, has over 70 tattoos (most of which were impulsive or practice while he was apprenticing), and gives people tattoos and piercings for a living. Y/N is smart and soft; an English major in graduate school, lives with her parents, and drives a car that costs more than his yearly rent. 

He's not blind. Although, if he was blind to pretty, innocent girls, he probably could stop walking around with a permanent boner from thinking about how gorgeous she'd look in his bed.

The only thing that can tear him from his thoughts is the sight of her. He watches as she walks through the doors of the building, a slight pep in her step when she notices him, waving her hand with a smile. He licks his lips absently, willing the arousal pooling deep in his stomach to go away. 

"Hi," she greets as she approaches him, "How're you?"

"I'm good." he answers, trying his best not to let his eyes wander over her outfit, "How was class?"

"'s okay. Kind of boring. Almost fell asleep once or twice."

"Yeah?" Harry chuckles as they begin to walk towards the nearest campus exit. "Gotta stay awake in those smarty pants classes of yours, princess."

He already knows she's blushing before he turns his head to see the familiar flush flower over her skin. He points to the bag over her shoulder, pausing his steps. "Lemme carry that for you."

"Oh— no, you don't have to, I don't want to be annoying—"

"Why would that be annoying?" he asks with a quirked brow. She swallows, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable."

"N-no, it wouldn't," she shakes her head and he nods, keeping his arm stretched out. She pushes the strap down her shoulder and hands the bag to him. "Thank you. That's very kind of you, Harry."

"What d'you have in here, a ton of bricks?" he asks teasingly as he slips the pink tote over his own shoulder. 

"No! I have to bring books to campus every day so we can discuss certain passages and stuff. I guess I've been doing it for so long I didn't notice how heavy it is."

"It's very heavy, Y/N," Harry says, stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, "No wonder you're falling asleep in class, you're basically doing an upper body workout on your way there."

"It's not that big a deal," she replies nonchalantly. "It's just— it's what my professors want, so."

He continues grumbling, annoyed that anyone would ask this girl to shuttle all this weight to campus every day. 

"Can you start parking closer to your lecture halls, then? I don't wanna find out you dislocated your shoulder one day."

She shakes her head. "I don't drive to campus."

"Oh, is parking that bad?"

Y/N begins to fidget, wringing her hands out in front of her as they walk. Harry glances at her from his peripherals, soaking in the nervousness written all over her face. 

"No... my parents don't let me drive to campus, that's all."

He hums, attempting to stay unbiased, even if everything he's learned about her so-called parents has only made anger rise in his chest. 

"Do they have a lot of limits on things you can and can't do?" 

"Kind of. I don't know."

"Is... is that something that bothers you?"

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as they stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn. He shifts his body to face her. 

"I've never really told anyone about how they are, but... well, they take care of me. They always have. They just have a very clear vision of what they want for me."

"Right," Harry nods, "Just because they care for you or pay for certain things doesn't mean they're good, though. I'm not saying they aren't— I just don't want you to confuse the two."

"I guess."

He decides to leave it at that, mainly because he can she's growing uncomfortable, but also because they're approaching the shop. He pushes the door open and holds it for Y/N, who sheepishly walks in, Harry close behind. 

He doesn't acknowledge anyone as she follows him to his station, but she supposes it's not out of the ordinary for him to do these things since he's the owner. Once they're safely sheltered by the walls of his space, Y/N lets out a breath, sitting down in the chair she was in on Saturday.

After setting her bag down, he washes his hands at the sink. A long-haired guy pops his head in, grinning when he sees Y/N. 

"Hey, H," he greets, "Didn't know you'd be here today."

Harry's tone is gruffer towards the man, even though he seems friendly. "Yeah. What's up?"

"I need a favor. I have an appointment that looks like it's gonna take a little longer than anticipated — last minute changes and all that to the design, but Jude is coming in to pickup at 2. You mind dealing with him?"

He glares at the man before assuming what Y/N is starting to call his signature pose — arms crossed over his broad chest, leaning back against some surface in his station (today, it's the tattoo bed).

"None of the other idiots can do it? Kinda busy."

"It's your off day, figured you could handle him," he shrugs, "Unless you'd like to introduce me—"

"Shut up." Harry replies, clenching his jaw. A spark zips up Y/N's body, though she's not sure why he seems to take offense to the man's words. "Yeah, I'll deal with it. What does he want?"

"Just some edibles and a few grams of bud. Nothing crazy."

Again, Y/N doesn't miss the way Harry shoots a glare at him, who simply raises his hands in mock defense. As if speaking through some sort of secret language, he backs out of the room, his Adidas sneakers sounding crisply against the wooden floors as he walks away.

"Sorry," Harry mumbles.

"Oh. It's okay."

He turns back around to look at Y/N, who somehow looks even smaller in the chair since they arrived.

"You have no idea what that was about, do you?"

She shrugs, though it's clear that Harry's right. She doesn't often like showcasing her naive nature, like it's some sort of party trick for people to laugh at. It makes her feel sad, a reminder of the "normal" years she could have had if not for her parents.

He sighs and lifts a hand to run through his messy hair. "A few of us sell weed on the side here. It's not really a big deal, but we just do it for some extra cash on the side. I would've rather told you on my own time, though."

Y/N's palms find her thighs, plucking at the hem of her skirt as she swallows, digesting the information. Weed? Her parents had always taught her that all drugs were bad. In their minds, weed was just as bad as heroin, but when Y/N read about states legalizing the former, she didn't quite understand how that made sense. 

"I hope that doesn't make you think any differently of me," he continues. "I'm sorry."

She keeps her eyes set in her lap, "Is weed... bad?"

She's expecting him to laugh at her but instead, when she looks up, she's met with a small, adoring smile on his lips. His eyes twinkle just a bit as he shakes his head.

"No, it's not bad, dove. What do you know about it?"

"Nothing, really. I know it's legal in some places but my parents always told me to stay away from any drugs."

"I think a lot of parents do that," Harry replies with a nod, "But it can actually be really helpful for people. Mentally, physically. And others just like it, they enjoy the feeling of being high."

She swallows before biting her lip. "Do you... do you like it?"

"I do." he says. "Is that okay?"

She thinks he could tell her he's a serial killer and she would be okay with it.

"Yeah. 's okay."

His grin widens. "Alright. Lemme get you settled with this other piercing. I'll have to step out to sell to Jude at 2, but after that, do you wanna grab something to eat?"

She nods so fast she feels like a bobblehead. A chuckle — the warmest, most melodic thing Y/N thinks she's ever heard — sounds from his mouth.

"Just don't pass out again on me, Sleeping Beauty."

. . .

Y/N takes her second piercing much better than her first. 

(And by that, she means she only teared up a little bit, and no fainting occurred.) 

She's actually more nervous about the whole weed... thing. She feels torn. There's a half of her that feels intimidated by it; the part that still has a foot stuck in her parents' world, she supposes, where they taught her to never even look at people like Harry. The other half of her is intrigued to see what happens. Fascinated by him, maybe, and the way she feels when she's around him, and she doesn't know whether that's a good thing or not.

"Harry!" 

Someone calls his name from the main room as he's cleaning up and he peeks his head out. 

"Yeah?"

"Jude's here!"

He looks a lot less flighty about it than she assumes he would. Instead, he simply walks back into his station and unlocks a bottom cabinet to reveal a safe inside. 

"Know you're watching, princess," he says, turning his head to flash a toothy smirk in her direction. She looks away, blinking nervously. "Don't reveal any of my grand weed secrets to anyone, hm?"

"I'm not," she huffs, making him chuckle, "I'm just... curious."

Harry hums, pulling contents out from the safe. When he's done, he doesn't even bother concealing any of the weed he's just taken out, instead just rising to his feet. 

"I'll be right back. We can talk about the curiosity in a second."

Y/N's not snappy enough to come up with a response so she simply watches him walk away. She's only seen drug deals go down in movies and TV shows, where they're dramatic and part of the mob and guns are a necessity. She doesn't think this is one of those drug deals, but who is she to assume?

Surprisingly, Harry returns less than two minutes later with a small wad of cash in his hand. He pockets it, smiling at her when he sees she's still sitting there, the same perplexed look on her face. 

"Steal any of my bud while I was gone?"

"Harry!" 

He cackles and shakes his head. "Alright, dovie, c'mere."

Hesitantly, she stands, shuffling over to where Harry is back to kneeling on the floor. He looks up at her with an expectant expression, a wordless command to do the same. She does.

"Okay. You said you were curious?"

She nods.

"I've always found that the best solution to curiosity is knowledge. This doesn't mean you have to do anything, but it's good to know about things that may intimidate you," he explains. "So, weed can be found in a few different forms. I only sell flower, which are these little buds," he pulls out a container, showing her the small green nuggets. "And edibles, which is just candy or chocolate, stuff like that, with different levels of potency." 

"Oh." Y/N furrows her eyebrows, a small wrinkle forming between them. "That's it?"

He chuckles, "Mhm. That's it."

"And what does it do?"

"Like how does it make me feel?"

She nods.

"It's different for everyone and strains — like, the types of weed — will affect people differently, too. For me, it just makes me a little more relaxed and giggly, more touchy and less in my head. It's nice."

"That does sound nice." she says softly. He hums as he pushes the container back into the safe, locking it back up in the cabinet. "Do you think I would like it?"

It's a question that kind of blurts out without thinking about it. When he turns to look at her, eyes serious and thoughtful, she feels small; the way everyone her age or older has always made her feel. She swallows harshly, immediately regretting it.

"I don't know the answer to that, but if you ever want to try, you can tell me. I'll make sure you have a safe experience."

It's not the answer she's expecting, but instead maybe the one that only exists in her wildest dreams. She looks down to hide her blush and he smiles to himself, ducking down to catch her eyes. 

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're a blushy little thing."

Her jaw snaps closed, wiggling uncomfortably at his blatant call out. Her mother always told her that her emotions were easy to read — she said it made her weak, though. 

"I like it," Harry quickly amends, throat bobbing, "I like it a lot." 

She thinks she notices his eyes zip to her lips, but just as quickly as they dart down, they're back up to her eyes. She swallows when she realizes they've somehow gotten closer, the distance slowly closing between them in millimeters. She doesn't know who's moving in — if it's him or her or both — but suddenly, she's looking up and his face is hovering over hers, blinking in silent permission. When she doesn't grant it because she's too nervous to speak, his tongue peeks out, licking over his raspberry lips. 

"Is this okay?" He asks, minty breath ghosting over her mouth. "Can I do this?"

She nods, because she thinks any noise that would come out of her mouth would be just that — a sad excuse of a squeal. Her heart is pulsing in her ears, her hands trembling over her thighs, and then it happens — he presses his lips to hers, so gently it's almost like they aren't even there. The last time Y/N kissed someone, it was in ninth grade in the locker room after school, and she doubts it even qualified as a real kiss. This is different, though. This is Harry. 

He feels the nervousness radiating off of her so he breaks away, despite the already addictive taste of her mouth. He's gone too quickly and it makes Y/N's heart rate quicken even faster. 

"Need you to relax, princess." He says with his forehead pressed against hers. "Just follow my lead, okay? Promise it's not hard."

Embarrassed, she nods again, willing him to close the gap for a second time. This time, his lips are quick to move against hers, and it initially takes her by surprise. But she does what he told her to, mimicking his movements in tentative paces. With each passing moment, he's kissing her more and more breathless, and she lifts a shaking hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. It's a bold move for her and she swears she feels his signature smirk form into their kiss. 

Time doesn't feel like it moves much when Y/N's mouth is on Harry's, but she knows it is because she needs a break to breathe. With panting lungs, she pulls away, watching as Harry's eyes flicker open. His lips are pinker somehow and swollen with spit. The image makes her core throb. 

"Y'okay?" He asks. Y/N notices his pupils are darkened and he shifts from his seat on the floor, adjusting his lower half. 

"Y-yeah," she nods, "Needed to, um, breathe."

He chuckles. "Yeah? Get a little dizzy there?"

"A little bit." 

"Cute," he murmurs, lifting his thumb to swipe a bit of spit away from her bottom lip. Instinctively, her mouth opens, and she watches as his eyes flicker to hers. Through labored breath, he slowly moves his thumb along her plushy lip, resisting the urge to sink it inside. She's not sure why something as small as this is stirring her insides, but her eyes widen when he breaks away, pushing the finger into his own mouth. 

"Oh." She breathes out. 

"I don't wanna scare you," Harry whispers, "But I'm completely fucked when it comes to you, dove. If you don't want this... want me, I need you to go now." 

She swallows. Slowly, she rises to her knees and inches towards him, closing the small gap that formed between their bodies. She's hesitant in her movements but pushes herself to straddle him, gently sinking her ass down into his lap. His eyes widen. 

"I want this. I want you." She says. 

"Good," Harry mumbles, brushing his lips against hers for the third time that afternoon, "Good." 

. . .

Y/N thinks she could go pro at lying to her parents.

A month ago, she had to spend hours preparing the perfect fib, coaching herself on how to articulate it just casually enough so it didn't seem fabricated. These days, they come out like nothing. 

I'll be home late, I have a group project to work on in the library.

I'm going to a tutoring session for one of my classes, I probably won't be home until dinnertime.

I'm spending some extra time on campus today so I can get a head start on a paper.

In all truthfulness, school couldn't be the furthest thing on her mind right now. Harry is.

Ever since that day they kissed at his shop, they haven't been able to spend more than a day apart. Mostly, they follow the same routine from that very afternoon, where he'll pick her up from her last class of the day and they'll walk back to St. Mark's together. Sometimes, Harry will have deals to do so they sit and talk in the downtime. Other days, he'll have actual work to tend to, accounting and whatever it is he does as a business owner, so she'll do some homework, enjoying the silent companionship. Y/N never stays too late into the evening, not wanting to push her luck with her parents, but Harry always sends her off with a kiss that leaves her breathless, making her promise to text him when she gets home.

And the kissing... yeah. 

Y/N likes to think she's gotten better at it from all the practicing they've been doing. She still gets a bit flustered, but it's one of her favorite things to do with him. The second they shuffle into his station, Harry closes the door so they're finally in private, and it's like a switch is turned on. Within seconds, they're wrapped up in each others arms, mouths wet and hot against one another. She's discovered that her favorite place to be is seated in his lap while his tongue explores her mouth, breathy pants parting her lips. He loves to squeeze her ass over the pleats of her skirt, knowing that it riles her up in the smallest forms of contact — tiny rolls of her hips, nails being pressed into his skin, a slight pull of his hair. 

She doesn't think things could get much better with Harry until today, during their typical makeout-and-grinding session, when he ducks beneath her jaw, pressing messy kisses to her soft skin. It's then that the words leave his lips. 

"Can I feel you under here, dove?"

His hand is fisting the hem of her skirt and the low tone of his voice makes lightning zip through her body. She doesn't know how to reply — she wants to say yes, but her mouth is dry from immediate anxiety. 

"N-no one's ever touched me there," she whispers, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Harry hums, unbothered, kissing her jaw once more before backing away slightly.

"Don't have to do if you don't want to. We can just keep doing what we've been doing if you'd prefer." he replies nonchalantly, his lips swollen. She swallows nervously, perturbed by his frank nature.

"I— I do want you to feel me," Y/N mumbles. It's not a lie — yes, she's a virgin who knows next to nothing about her body besides its reproductive process, but sometimes, when she goes home in the evening, she thinks about what it would like to keep going. She's seen movies and TV shows, but those have only made her even more curious. Sometimes the guy takes it slow and makes it romantic, other times it's painful and uncomfortable. She can only hope Harry would take care of her.

"Where, princess?"

Well, she can only hope that Harry would take care of her in his typical teasing ways.

Huffing, she shakes her head. "I can't say that, H."

"Can't touch you if I don't know where you want it," he murmurs, kissing her cheek lightly. "Wanna hear you say it. Ask me."

"Harry," she whines. "Please? You know... where."

"Here?" he asks, pressing his the warmth of his hand to her thigh. "This where you want me?"

"No."

"Hmm, how about here?" he moves his hand up just a bit further, inching underneath the fabric of her mini skirt to the crease of her thigh. Again, she shakes her head. 

"Dunno where you want me then, dove. Thought you were my good girl."

"H-higher." she mumbles, attempting to push her body closer so he gets the hint.

"Higher?" he echoes with a smirk, "Here?"

This time, his fingertips have found the waistband of her panties. It immediately feels wrong, but not because of who's touching her, but rather the act of it. She takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the voice in her head. Slowly, in an act of false confidence, she bunches the fabric of her skirt up at her hips, watching as Harry's eyes widen. They instantly dart down to the small wet patch between her thighs and it makes him groan softly.

"Jesus," he mutters, forgetting about his little game. He gently thumbs at her clit through the material and she jumps. Using his other hand to squeeze her hip, he tries to keep her steady, mumbling out an apology. "Am I allowed to see this cute little pussy?"

She clenches at his question, surprising herself with how turned on she feels from just a few words. 

"Yes," she nods, "Please."

"'Please'? Aren't you just the sweetest wet dream, hm?" Harry murmurs. He pushes the width of the fabric to the side, making Y/N shiver from the sudden exposure and being under his gaze. "Are you always this polite or is this just for me, princess?"

She licks over her lips when he parts her pussy with his ring and middle fingers. He hums, dipping a fingertip into her crease and lifting it to his mouth. He looks at her expectantly and she realizes she hasn't answered him yet.

"J-just for you." 

"Pretty, swollen pussy just begging for attention. Do you always get this needy when we kiss?" 

She nods, her eyelashes fluttering as he runs the tip of his pointer finger through her wetness. 

A poor excuse for an answer sounds through her lips, the affirmative tone being the only thing that gives him an idea of what she said. He snickers boyishly, Y/N's jaw dropping when they both feel her pussy pulsate. 

"I think my girl is a bit naughtier than I thought," he breathes, moving his finger back up to her clit to form slow, small circles. She gasps from the intensity, a new sensation of overwhelming pleasure that she's never received before. "Is that the truth, dovie? Do you wanna be my naughty girl instead of my polite one? Tell me." 

"Harry," she mewls, arching her back to press deeper into his touch, "P-please— feels really good."

"Yeah?" he smirks, a mocking tone to his voice that makes Y/N squeeze her eyes shut. "Yeah, does it feel really good?"

"You're— you're being mean—"

"Oh, I don't think so, dove. I think I'm letting you use my fingers to get off, petting this pretty little clit until you cum all over my hand. I don't think that's mean, do you?"

He stops stroking at her and her eyes snap open. She can feel how warm her face has gotten under his touch, quiet puffs of breath ghosting over his lips as his eyes twinkle, knowing what he's done.

"Why'd you stop?" she asks in a small voice.

"You said I was being mean," Harry replies with a shrug, "If I were really mean, I'd leave you here high and dry. Do you want to learn about edging today, Y/N?"

She shakes her head, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. He hums and lifts his hand to his mouth, his pink tongue darting out to swirl around the fingers that were just caressing her. She watches him with wide eyes. She doesn't think she's ever been this turned on in her life.

"Do you like when I tease you?" he asks lowly. They both know the answer — her body couldn't lie even if she wanted to, and Harry noticed it the second he felt her pussy clench against nothing at his mocking tone.

"Y-yes." she whispers.

"Dirty girl," he murmurs, moving both his hands down to her hips to give them a squeeze. He tightens his hold on her and gently moves her up to the tattoo bed, helping her lay down. "We have all the time in the world to learn about what makes your pussy wet, but right now, I wanna make her cum. Can I do that, dovie?"

Y/N nods, allowing him to adjust her body however he wants. He smiles at how pliant she is for him, sticking to her good girl demeanor. 

"Need you to tell me if I go too far or if something doesn't feel right, okay?" he reminds her as he fits himself between her thighs, "At any point, you say stop and we do, no questions asked." 

"Yeah. Okay."

It's apparent to her that Harry is experienced, because it takes no time for him to wiggle his fingers back to their initial position. His thumb is applying the smallest bit of pressure to her clit, still sensitive from when he was playing with it before, but now he's circling over her hole with one of his larger fingers. She gasps at the slight intrusion. 

"Have you ever put your finger in here, princess?" 

She shakes her head. "N-no."

"Do you want me to?" he asks, though he can already feel the way her hole is all but sucking him in, "It won't hurt. Promise."

She trusts him — maybe foolishly, because she knows her parents would disown her if they knew the position she was in right now — but she pushes the thought to the back of her head, instead simply answering his question with a nod. He keeps his eyes on hers as he slowly pushes in, a gasp instantly falling from her plushy lips. Her immediate reaction is discomfort, but as he starts to stroke at something towards the back of her walls, it feels... good. Overwhelmingly good. So good that a loud moan frees itself from deep in her chest and he jumps up, gently pressing his other hand over her mouth. He ducks down and presses a kiss to the shell of her ear.

"Know I'm making your little hole feel so good, but there's other people here. I wanna keep those moans just for myself, okay?" 

Her eyes roll back as he continues to pump his finger inside of her, the assault on the magic little spot never stopping. She can sense the smirk that's likely formed on his face but she can't find it in her to care because she's never, ever felt this good before. She whimpers against his palm and he groans quietly, the sight of his gorgeous girl writhing beneath him nearly too much to handle. He wills his own raging hard-on away, instead focusing on Y/N's need to cum before he can even consider getting himself off. 

"H-harry," she sounds beautiful mewling his name even when it's muffled by his hand, "I feel— I'm—"

"I know, dove, I know," he coos, quickening the loops around her clit. She's growing increasingly sensitive from his touch as her hole throbs around his finger. "Let go for me. Let go for daddy, lemme see that pretty pussy soak me."

Realistically, he would've preferred introducing her to the whole daddy kink thing on different terms, but he's instantly reminded of how insanely lucky he is when those are the words that push her over the edge. His jaw drops as he watches her squirm underneath his hands, riding out her orgasm and squeezing him in the most delicious way. 

"Fuck, you're so fuckin' beautiful," he groans, unable to stop himself from lightly grinding his covered cock against her inner thigh. He can feel the warmth radiating off of her core and his desperation to feel her grows by the second. 

When her orgasm finally subsides, she's panting heavily and he swallows, palming himself over his pants. 

"Is this okay?" he asks breathily. Y/N raises up onto her elbows, her eyes growing a bit wide when she sees what he's doing. Despite how exhausted she is, she still nods, the curiosity of what he looks like when he comes steadily building inside her. "'s not gonna take me long — that was the prettiest thing I've ever fuckin' see. Jesus."

She blushes but he doesn't notice as he pulls his cock out from under his pants and boxers. He spits into his palm and starts to stroke himself, his gaze glued to the swollen mess between her legs. 

In college, Y/N watched porn once. It was with her roommate and her friends, who found out she was a virgin and asked if she knew anything about sex. She didn't, so they had some sort of debauched education night for her, which was really just an excuse to giggle and make fun of the way guys moan in porn. It made her feel weird, watching this couple have sex on camera, but what she does remember is the girl encouraging him to cum. Once she started begging, it pushed him to her orgasm, and Y/N was pretty impressed with that.

So, she swallows her self-conscious nature and gazes up at Harry as the slick pumps over his length grow clumsy. She can see the pre-cum bubbling at the tip and the way he gathers it with each stroke, using it to further lubricate himself. 

"Want you to cum for me," she breathes out, the words sounding foreign when they leave her lungs, "Please. Wanna see it."

Harry's eyes nearly bulge out of his head and she assumes she's done something right by the way he quickly squeezes them shut, a quiet fuck falling from his lips. 

"Please cum for me, daddy."

Much like it was for her, the use of his honorific is what finally pushes him to his finish. His jaw goes slack and his chest vibrates with muffled groans as spurts of cum rain down on Y/N's mound, eliciting a small gasp as the feeling. It's messy, but she's enamored by how gorgeous Harry looks when he comes: swollen lips, clenched abs, flushed cheeks, his large hand fisted around his length. 

"Shit," he mutters, reaching up with his clean hand to push his curls out of his face, "Are you alright? Was that okay?"

She nods far too quickly for her own good. She'd be lying if she says she isn't slightly overwhelmed, but she wouldn't take any of it back. She never wants to forget how good he made her feel, while the knowledge that she's the one that turned him on like that is a boost to her confidence. 

"Lemme clean you up, hold on," he says breathily, reaching over to grab one of the folded hand towels in the cabinet. Gently, he runs the fabric over her sensitive bottom half, shushing her softly. He does the same thing for himself and then helps her shimmy her panties back up. "You sure you feel alright, dove? You're being quiet." 

"'m okay. Just tired." She replies truthfully, sitting up to lean back against the wall. 

"Yeah? One little orgasm and you're ready for a nap?" 

She giggles and buries her head into his shoulder,  her limbs feeling particularly jelly-like. He wraps a loose arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer, chuckling as he presses a kiss to her hair. 

"That's alright. I'm happy to take care of you however you need, princess." 

. . .

"When were you planning on telling me the bookstore is hiring?"

Harry's eyes widen at Y/N's unusually bold demeanor. He glances down at her, following her gaze to where she's staring at the small bookstore across the street. Sure enough, there's a help wanted sign in the window. 

"I didn't know you were looking for a job, dove," he replies with a shrug. In all honesty, he's never really paid attention to the business across the street from his own. 

"Well... I'm not really, but I do want to start making my own money." she says softly, biting her lip. 

He raises his eyebrows, "Yeah? You wanna go see if you can fill out an application?"

Despite her nerves, she still nods her head. Harry smiles and intertwines their fingers together, guiding her across the way to the bookstore. He holds the door open for her and she swallows anxiously, stepping inside the quaint store. With his hand pressed to the small of her back, he gently ushers her to the cashier. 

"Hi," she says shakily, "I saw you're hiring people and I was wondering if I could apply." 

The woman at the front grins, immediately launching into a conversation with Y/N about how excited she is that someone's interested in working for them. As she pulls a paper application out from a drawer on the side, Harry smoothes his hand over her back, rubbing it gently. He's so proud of her, his heart feels like it could burst. 

It's only when she's finishing up filling out her information that someone says her name. They both turn, Y/N's eyebrows instantly furrowing in confusion. 

"Y/N," the woman hisses, and Harry glances down to watch his girl's face crumble, "What are you doing?"

"Y/N... who is this?" Harry asks, his possessive instincts immediately taking over. 

She swallows harshly, tugging at the sleeves of her sweater. 

"Um... this is my mom."

read part two here!

#writing #tattoo artist h #I hope this met everyone's expectations! #y'all came through w sooo many good ideas so im a little nervy lol #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #one direction #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles one direction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fic recs

[sarcasticmothdraws]

#trigun #nicholas d. wolfwood #vash the stampede #drew this before the dave picture btw like a few hours ago. #slowly getting back to whatever style i have with that narwhal drawing #probably cause h #its the same pen #save me su cream pencil #su cream pencil save me

[dizzybizz]

mingling memeing for today 🥰

#guys theyre so in my head i ????? helP???? #scum villian self saving system #svsss #sha hualing #liu mingyan #mingling #my art #doodle #for that last one teehee #honestly tho it could go any which way there #like... #both of them thinking biting? or kissing? shl thinking biting while lmy thinks kissing? #i kinda wanted to do full shoujo style for shl's but i went with the silly sloppy makeout instead #again IT WORKS wIT H BOTH #i was also thinking about keeping the veil for it but i didnt in the end ✋😭 #it might have been a mistake for me to learn how to draw the two of them. now there is no going back yknow. oh gods #anyways i love them and i think they could be so silly and good and aguuhhgooghgfhfghfhghghhg

[psykopaths]

#a e s t h e t i c #intimate #body art #hot as fuck #desire #sexy tease #grungy girls #grungy style #grunge aesthetic #grunge art #grungy aesthetic #grunge #tattooed girls #inked girls #tumblr girls #tattooed women #tattoo artist #neck tattoo #tattooed babe #tattoed girls #tattoo aesthetic #asthetic #tattoos #art #angelcore #666 aesthetic #angel number 666

[rainydaycafe]

Hi, yes, I’d like to motorboat Harry Styles?

Yes, that’s Harold Edward Styles and just one motorboat on those voluptuous titties.

#harry styles #love on tour #hslot #harold styles #h styles

[harrysonlylover]

Ride Along*

Summary: Y/n is feeling bored alone at her apartment, so Harry takes her for a ride.

A continuation to Discipline.

Trope: Agent Harry

WC: 6.3k

Warnings: mentions of speeding, a pinch of meanrry, smut, degradation, choking, face spitting, unprotected sex, implications of somnophilia, after care.

A/n: The writing is a bit rusty because it’s been a while since I wrote smut😬

Main Masterlist | Agent Harry Masterlist

Y/n was placed on house arrest by Harry for a week, and it was torturous.

Perhaps “house arrest” is a bit dramatic but she felt suffocated. She could leave her apartment whenever she wanted. Harry’s insistence on her relaxation was clear, and he only meant for her to avoid any activities that require physical exertion.

Anyone would be thrilled to have a week off from work, but it was rather confusing for Y/n. Although she hadn’t been an agent for long, she adapted quickly to the agent lifestyle which was hard to suddenly pause.

Even with Harry’s confirmation and reassurance that he wasn’t disappointed, she still felt the need to occupy her time with something useful.

There was absolutely nothing in her apartment that could pass away time. At least nothing that interested her. 

She cleaned up a bit, reorganized the living room, and stuck to the meals that Harry sent for her daily. They weren’t bad actually, except for the spinach soup that made her want to puke.

With no one accompanying her but Tim Tim and her thoughts, she realized how nice and caring it is to send someone customized meals. If someone heard her say it out loud, they’d snort in her face but—they just don’t know Harry and his personality.

He texted her every day at least twice. At first, she thought he only did so to make sure she ate the meals and took her supplement (which would be considered too kind coming from him), but slowly he began diverting from those topics asking her about her day and chatting with her.

He gave her updates on the agency and promised to pass by her apartment only to bail on her because of an emergency that required his presence.

On day 4 she was fully annoyed. She couldn’t handle being away from the agency for long, and even if she could go out and enjoy her time away—she didn’t know where to go.

She didn’t lead a normal life, no agent did and she was completely okay with it. She had no one to check up on or call to hang out with. The idea of going out somewhere alone felt weird. She would feel like an imposter amongst a sea of normal people.

She buried the eerie feelings and decided to spam Harry with texts to annoy him a bit. 

Y/n: I’m gonna pass by the agency :)

She pressed the send button and waited for his reply as she heated her lunch for the day.

His reply was almost automatic as if he didn’t have a load of responsibilities.

Harry: No.

Y/n: Yes.

Harry: I said no Y/n.

She huffed in frustration before remembering that if she could be a menace at the agency, then she could be a menace over text too.

Y/n: Too bad I’m already on my way.

Harry: Don’t test me.

Y/n: 😜

Harry: Are you disobeying me?

She choked on a piece of meat when she read his reply, and immediately reached for a cup of water. She wiped her mouth, staring at his text in confusion. It wasn’t strictly sexual, but it was a phrase that he always used during sex, because one thing that he combined between his professional and sex life was discipline, and Y/n adored it.

She loved his attitude, how he dared her to go against his orders or defy him. It wasn’t that she liked getting punished or sought pain—it was more of a need to observe him being dominant. The way he manhandled her and treated her like nothing but a toy, only for him to hold her to his chest right after.

Another text from Harry pulled her out of her fantasies and daydreams.

Harry: You’re well aware of how I feel about you disobeying me, right?

Y/n: Yes. I do.

Her response was automatic as if it was generated and not typed quickly by her. She wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.

Harry: Good Girl.

Motherfucker. He knew what he was doing. After all, he had her memorized by heart, and he probably was aware of how close she was to drooling. The meal in front of her didn’t appeal to her anymore because she had a different type of meal on her mind.

It had been a while since they hooked up and it was a rushed quickie behind closed doors at the agency. He kneeled on the ground to eat her out in no longer than five minutes before having to return to the training. He knew her body like the palm of his hand and had her panting and biting on her bottom lip in no time.

She adored it, really, but she craved the feeling of his cock driving into her as she held onto his body or while his hand wrapped itself around her neck with his mouth spewing the dirtiest sentences into her ear.

She sighed deeply reminiscing her adventurous sex life before he banished her to her apartment so she could rest. Was it a bit dramatic? Maybe. But she might be addicted to sex with him.

She glanced at his text knowing that he was probably smirking at his replies. He always knows how to get to her. She grabbed her phone and typed her reply because she was so fucking bored at the apartment and needed some fresh air.

Y/n: I’m still bored.

This time his reply wasn’t as quick as the previous one. It took him about five minutes to respond which was still fast considering how busy he was.

Harry: Okay. Go out.

Y/n: Wow! I didn’t think of that.

She scoffed at his dumb reply because who said that she was waiting for his approval?

Harry: Why didn’t you go out?

Y/n: I’m not sure…it feels weird…?

She could see the little dots that indicate that he was typing appearing only to disappear a few seconds later.

Harry: I’ll pick you up at 9. Dress comfortably.

When she complained about her boredom she thought that he would recommend her places to visit or give suggestions, not take her out. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when she read his text. She wasn’t hallucinating, right?

Y/n: Where are we going?

Harry: Eat your lunch and take your supplement.

Y/n: Damn grumpy pants.

He didn’t reply to her after that but if he did she’s sure he would have sent a thumbs-up emoji even if it was out of context. She continued her meal just like he instructed her. The hold he had on her was unreal, and she was okay with it.

Harry was knocking on her door at exactly 9 PM. Not a minute later.

This time she didn’t welcome him in with a tear-stained face, and grumpy attitude. It was the entire opposite of it. The only thing that was similar to the previous time was her shock. Harry was dressed in all black and a leather jacket. His hair looked so fucking soft, and a hair strand fell on his forehead as he leaned against the door with his hands in his pockets. He was a sight for sore eyes, especially Y/n’s whose jaw almost dropped.

“Hello, little minx.” He grinned devilishly as he entered her apartment. His cologne had her knees buckling, reminding her of when she’d bury her face in his neck.

Black shirt, black pants, black boots, and a black leather shirt. He’s going to be the death of her, surely. He strolled in like he owned the place while she shamelessly stared at his body.

“Little minx…” He tutted, cornering her against the kitchen counter. “… sent me message after message today as if I don’t have a workload.” His tone made her feel like she was in trouble, but the good kind of trouble.

“But you still answered, no?” She replied confidently with a smirk to remind him of the hold that she also had on him, even if they never spoke about it directly.

He remained silent, offering her his cheesy smirk as his eyes raked over her face and neck like he was trying to come up with sinful scenarios. She was more addictive than any type of drug.

“Ready to hit the road?” He deviated from the topic skilfully while checking out her attire to make sure that she’d be comfortable during the ride.

“Hmm. Let’s go.” She walked in front of him like a princess, going down the stairs excitedly.

She stepped out to the street and looked around with a hint of a smile painted across her face. She could hear Harry’s boots behind her and smell his cologne that seemed to have stuck to her clothes.

“So…are we going to walk there?” She asked with confusion evident on her face.

“We’re riding there.” His response held a sense of pride as he grabbed her hand and walked down to the end of the street before taking a left and stopping.

A large black sports bike was parked in its glory itching for someone to take it for a ride. Y/n stood still in her place with her mouth wide open in shock. Harry was a motorcycle guy?

“Oh…wow.”

“Scared little minx?” He mused like it was so fun to see her reaction. He approached her from behind, bumping his body with hers and trapping her physically. She could feel him breathing against her neck as she swallowed down his throat. One touch from him and she’s paralysed.

He pressed a soft peck behind her ear before whispering. “Don’t worry… you’ll hold on to me.” She barely processed what he said as he immediately urged her forward and gave her a helmet to put on. She wore it as soon as he gave it to her to cover her facial expression from him. He helped her tie it up before placing his helmet on.

“C'mon hop on behind me.” He situated himself on the bike, and the more Y/n stared, the more the wetness between her thighs increased. Seeing him in all black was something but with a biker helmet on? She wanted to drop on her knees right there and then, but she didn’t.

Instead, she hopped on behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso. Her grip was weak making him urge her to get closer and glue herself to him. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, it just made her ridiculously horny.

The feeling of hugging his muscular body with her core touching his lower back had her feeling some sort of way. She could feel his abs under her touch, and his cologne drifting in the air was not helping.

“I can’t even see anything because of your back!” While she joked about it, deep down she found it fucking hot. His broad back and shoulders blocked her view, and the only thing she could do was rest her head against it.

“I don’t hear you complaining when you’re scratching on it.” Even with his helmet on, she could feel him smirking.

She gave in to the feeling of his warm body against her as if he were shielding her from everything. It was not an ideal timing for her size kink to get activated, but she genuinely couldn’t help it.

“Hold on tight little minx.” The engine roared to life and Harry fixed his position before taking a turn and heading straight for the highway.

This was her first time on a motorcycle surprisingly. At first, her body was tense, and it didn’t feel nice. Despite having a helmet on, it felt like the wind was slapping her. Harry turned out to be a skilled biker who speeds for fun—still he was careful.

She eventually regulated her breathing and unclenched her jaw as she adapted to the adrenaline rush that she felt. It was an otherworldly feeling. She couldn’t tell what made her feel this way. Harry’s body against her, the evening breeze, or the rush of speeding.

No matter what it was, she felt amazing.

Harry wanted to taunt her in some way, preferably verbally—but she seemed like she was having fun, and her arms around him were a distraction. The feeling of her body clinging to him was priceless.

He tried to avoid speeding on the highway for her sake despite loving to do so. It was one of the things he resorted to when he needed a break from everything. Nothing could compare to the adrenaline rush he felt…maybe just Y/n’s lips.

He slowed down and took an exit on the highway that led them to a deserted road and ultimately a hill. He stopped and turned off the ignition before stepping off the bike.

“Fucking hell. Do you want to kidnap me?” Y/n joked as she looked around the dark and deserted space.

“If I want to kidnap you, little minx, I’ll simply carry you.” He chuckled as he took off his helmet and fixed his messy hair. She swallowed down her throat as she stared at him. Why did he have to look this good?

“C'mon.” He gestured for her to follow him, and she jogged to catch up. He placed his hand on her lower back to urge her forward. His body was dangerously close to her, and she could smell his cologne again. Harry’s hand itched to hold hers, but he wasn’t sure if she’d like that, so her lower back should suffice.

They took a small turn to the left as rocks crunched under their shoes. Harry wondered whether he should tell her to close her eyes or not. But if he does, then it’d sound romantic which crosses the boundaries of their physical relationship.

“It’s right…here.” They were met with a gorgeous view of the city. They could see almost all the lit buildings as if they were in the sky. It felt as if they were spying on the city with its lights and secrets. No one but them on the deserted hill.

“Wow..this is so beautiful”. Y/n gasped in shock at the view in front of her. She never expected Harry to take her to this spot-she didn’t even know it existed.

“I know.” If she wasn’t too occupied with the scenery, she would’ve noticed that Harry was in fact, staring at her with a smile on his face.

“How do you know this spot?” Y/n still couldn’t take her eyes off the shimmering buildings.

“I discovered it once by mistake, and I come here often.” He didn’t mention how this place was his escape from the world, or that he came here before heading to her apartment that day.

“It’s so nice.” Despite the darkness filling the space, Harry could still see and feel her smile.

He quickly got the bike so they could sit on it, and left it turned on for the light.

“Oh, it’s so big I could sleep on it.” Y/n remarked.

Perhaps he was feeling extra chill or it was just from being around her but a weird sound came out of his mouth as he tried to suppress a laugh. Y/n usually gets sleepy after sex, and his dick isn’t the average size. So did he think of her sentence sexually and almost burst out laughing? Yes.

“Did you just try to laugh at me?” She asked in an annoyed tone.

“Me? Never.” He covered up his chuckle with coughing.

“Whatever…” She mumbled a few other words under her breath as she attempted to climb the bike, but it was gigantic. She can’t even recall how she climbed it previously and she’s not even short!

She gasped suddenly as Harry’s hands lifted her body like she weighed nothing and placed her on the seat before she could blink. She was glad that he couldn’t see her face clearly because she could feel her cheeks burning. Was she that touch deprived?

“I was handling it just fine.” She huffed in confidence.

“Mhmm.”

The bike was indeed huge, but Harry took most of the space making their bodies glued on the seat.

The tension between them could be cut with a knife. Y/n would usually be the first to break the silence, but she just couldn’t. She felt paralyzed next to him, and he didn’t even touch her yet. His presence and cologne were enough to weaken her.

“Are you still mad at me?” He cleared his throat.

“What?” She couldn’t mask the shock in her tone as her face turned around to meet his.

“About last week.” It sounded as if something was holding him back, almost like he was afraid of asking.

She took a few seconds to process his question, mostly because she was shocked at the gesture. She knew deep down that it meant a lot. No one would believe her if she said that Agent Harry Styles was checking up on her and apologized. They’d probably laugh in her face.

She couldn’t decode what it meant. Was he just feeling guilty, or did he share the same feelings? The need for more than just physical boundaries haunted her but she wouldn’t dare to bring it up. Even if he was feeling guilty, it still had to be something. He’s literally merciless to other agents.

“I—I—“

“You don’t have to give me an answer.” He reassured her in a low whisper.

“No, I do—I’m just confused.”

“About?” Harry was itching to know her answer. He even rehearsed his question for the past week.

“Well… why did my lack of performance anger you in the first place?” She had a lot to ponder about in her free time. Questions that popped into her head about Harry.

He took a deep breath and clasped his hands together before exhaling. “I didn’t want you to get hurt on the field. Most of the time when agents slack, they end up getting injured in the field…”

“Wanted you to be strong for when I’m not there.” He whispered as if the city was able to hear him confessing his secrets.

“Oh.” Y/n’s head was swirling with thoughts and questions-none that came out of her mouth. She could even feel Harry’s stress radiating off him. She simply allowed her Pinky finger to touch his as they continued staring at the city.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that she broke the silence.

“I’m not mad anymore. I was just surprised. Just—don’t do it again.”

“Never.”

They stayed in the same position with their fingers touching for almost two hours, as they chatted about important and mundane things. His heart fluttered when she laughed her ass off after he told her how an agent peed his pants because he was caught smoking.

He even told her about his mother briefly. That’s how whipped he was. She shared a few details about growing up as an orphan, but they both decided to close the topic knowing how heavy was.

“Your cologne is suffocating me.” Her remark was innocent, it really was—but his mind wasn’t.

“Thought you liked it when you buried your face in my neck?” Cheeky Harry was back in full force. He inched his face closer to her and he could hear her swallow down her throat.

“Harry…”

“Tell me…did you think about me knocking on your door and fucking you against the wall?” Lust dripped from his voice and Y/n’s chest was rising. Goosebumps spread all over her skin as their noses bumped.

“I—yes.”

“Good. Cause I stopped myself from doing that every single day.” He was needy for her, and only her.

“What are you waiting for then?”

In a few seconds, he had her straddling his lap with his hand supporting her lower back as his lips devoured hers. Their kiss was sloppy, wet, and lustful. Harry counted the minutes that led to this moment so he could taste the sweetest fruit.

He was fucking obsessed with everything about her. Her lips, eyes, body, mind, and pussy.

“Fuck!” He moaned into her mouth when she grinded over his clothed cock. He might as well cum right there in his pants if she kept doing that.

“Behave. “He slapped her ass causing her to whine sweetly. His large hand rested on her cheeks trying to knead them over her leggings.

Their breaths were labored as their tongues clashed like lovers who hadn’t had sex in ages. His mouth was fucking devouring her and she could already feel her lips getting sore. He kept urging her body closer as if he could morph them into one body.

“Ne—need you.” Her whimpers made the blood rush to his cock.

“Yeah? Where do you need me, my baby?”

She ignored his question and continued kissing all over his face, brushing over his stubble and chin. She was hungry and he adored it. But she also didn’t answer him.

He pulled her away by wrapping his hand around her throat. She gasped, secretly loving the feeling of his veiny hands choking her.

“I asked you a question, little minx. Where do you need me?” His voice was so deep and lustful that she wanted to get down on her knees and suck him.

“Uh—In my pussy.” She breathed out, feeling the wetness increase between her thighs just from his hand around her neck. “Here, baby?” He cupped his other hand over her pussy making her feel tingly.

“Y—yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir.”

“Attagirl.” He felt her wetness on his hand and if it wasn’t so dark he’d bend her over the bike and fuck her into the next day. Besides, his little minx gets sleepy.

“C’mon, I need to get us to your apartment.” He spanked her cheeks again, earning a squeal from her. He pulled her off his lap and winced at his painful hard on before fixing his pants as much as he could and seating himself on the bike. His hand reached out for her and pulled her onto his lap again.

“Whoa! What are you doing? I should be behind you.”

“No. Since my cologne makes you horny, you’re gonna have your face buried into my neck the whole ride.” His smirk was sick but fuck her if she didn’t like it.

Her nose bumped over his neck and she fought a moan. This had to be the best punishment.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you with my body.” His arm tightened around her waist as he took the route they came from.

It was going to be a torturous ride.

Y/n could barely open the door properly with Harry kissing on the back of her neck. His hard on was pressing into her ass as she tried to insert the key. Her soft whines only made him hornier and needier.

As soon as they were inside, the keys dropped to the ground followed by the loud shut of the door. Harry grabbed Y/n by the throat pushing her to the wall where he kissed her deeply. The kiss was rushed and erotic, he could never get enough of her lips or sweet whimpers every time he pushed his tongue inside her mouth.

“My minx…” The warmth between her thighs was torturous. His deep voice rumbled from his chest sending vibrations straight to her pussy.

“Uhh..” She tried to push her core against his crotch for any sort of friction.

He caught on immediately as he smirked against the kiss and tapped on her ass to lift her on his waist. He had her placed lower than usual so she could feel him against the fabric.

“Is that what you wanted sweet girl? To feel how hard I am for you?” He panted, cradling her jaw with his hand as he deepened the kiss.

“Y—yes." She didn’t want to respond or part from his lips for a millisecond. She could feel her pussy pulsating just from the feeling of his cock pressing into her core.

She pulled away reluctantly, glancing at his neck like it was her next meal. He may have been teasing her, but he was right. She loved burying her face in his neck and sucking on it. She prided herself in knowing that the hickeys she’d give him would be on show for all girls at the agency.

His scent always played with her pheromones and messed with her brain. His cologne had a hold on her, and she knew that she looked like a puppy in heat when she clung to him. “Dirty girl…” His hand rested on her hair as his head rolled backward giving her access to his skin. He was a sight for sore eyes with his face scrunched in ecstasy and lips slightly parted. She didn’t have to speak for him to understand her possessiveness and boy did he like it.

His little minx was obsessed with him just like he was.

“Bedroom please.” She laid her forehead against his having had her fill from giving him love bites. Their noses bumped as they looked into each other’s eyes that shared the same desire.

She didn’t need to tell him twice. He supported her body with one hand around her waist as she directed him to the room. He didn’t waste any time and kept his mouth busy with her neck.

He placed her down on the bed gently before taking off his clothes quickly while she stared at his toned body and tattoos, holding in her drool.

“You could stare at me all night darling, but now I need you to be a good girl and take off your clothes so I could relieve that needy cunt of yours.” Harry barely finished his sentence, and her clothes were off in a few seconds.

The light in the room was dim, supported by a small bedside lamp. If she thought that staring at his body was a delight, then she should read his mind as he stared down at hers.

She looked so fucking pretty for him. Only him.

It was like an erotic scene out of a movie or a wet dream. Y/n on her back with her legs spread showcasing her glistening pussy and hardened nipples, and Harry standing tall in front of her with his cock erect to his stomach begging to sink itself inside her warm walls.

The sight of him standing like that nude and horny will never leave her mind. Almost as if he were a Greek god.

She squealed as he pulled her by her legs to the edge of the bed. Harry suddenly lowered his body till his face was at the same level as her pussy. His teasing game was strong, she was crumbling underneath him.

“My favorite scent.” He buried his face in her cunt and inhaled. A tiny whine left her mouth as his nose bumped into her swollen clit. Y/n felt like she could cry if he didn’t fuck her, and he was taking his sweet time in savoring the scent of her wetness.

“H—Harry.”

“Mhm?” He turned his attention to her, hovering over her body and taking delight in her needy face.

“Please—it hurts.” If he waited any longer, Harry was sure that a tear would’ve fallen from her eye.

“Oh poor baby…” He cooed as he caressed her cheek gently. “…you just need me inside, don’t you?” She was quick to nod while slightly squirming beneath him.

He pulled her closer, situating her core right under his cock, and stroked it giving her a show of his moans before tapping it against her wet cunt.

“Is that where you need it? Just have to slide in.” His sick grin with the feeling of his cock sliding over her cunt back and forth made her eyes roll back.

“Please.” She dug her nails into his back followed by a set of pleas.

“Shhh.” He whispered softly, pressing a peck to her cheek before pulling away from her and fixing their position.

He placed her legs on his shoulder and gave her his twisted smirk as he stroked his shaft and bit his bottom lip. “Gonna be my good girl as usual? Hmm?”. He lowered his body again, allowing his cock to rest on her stomach.

“Uh—huh.” She nodded mindlessly immediately. She was already cockdrunk and he wasn’t inside her yet.

“Ready baby?” His hand rubbed her legs softly as she gave him the cue. He glanced quickly at his cock resting on her skin and he almost got dizzy from the size difference. It got to him every damn time.

His eyes were focused on her facial expression as he slowly pushed himself inside of her. A wave of relief washed over her face with a sweet moan making him still his hips to avoid cumming.

There was nothing like sinking inside her warm walls that begged him to go deeper. Wet squelching sounds filled the room the more he pushed inside her—his baby was made for him.

“That’s it little minx—so fucking warm for daddy.”

Y/n’s brain felt mushy. Harry was so fucking good to her, and his cock scratched the itch just right. He never referred to himself as daddy before, only sir but she liked it so bad.

She pulled at his arms with soft whimpers signalling for him to get closer to her—which he did without hesitation. She clung to him, digging her nails into his back and tugging at his hair. His cock drove deep into her cunt, massaging her hot walls with its veins and thickness.

“Use me d—daddy”. Y/n shed tears from pleasure that stained his face since he was glued to her, pressing pecks to her cheeks and nose.

“Yeah? Want daddy to use you like a fuckdoll?” He increased his pace, going deeper and moaning into her ear at the feeling of her bare cunt.

They both adored raw sex and went for it almost every time. Y/n was on birth control, and Harry tested regularly (despite only fucking her). He was pussy whipped.

“Uhh—be rough daddy.” He stilled his hips at her words, leaving them glued to hers. He lifted his body and took in her fucked sight. Messy hair, tear stains, and a needy face.

“Wanted to be gentle with you but I forgot that you’re a whore deep down.” He chuckled before spitting on her face, and watching her chest rise and fall as she breathed heavily.

His little minx was insatiable and provoked him further by trying to fuck herself on his cock as she bit her bottom lip. He could faintly hear her whimpering ‘Daddy’ under her breath.

He wanted to slap her knowing how much she liked it but something else distracted him. He looked down to where they were connected noticing the mix of her wetness with his precum. He pulled out slowly, moaning at the loss of contact and his cock that is painted in white.

Harry tried to breathe in and out to avoid cumming. Not only did she cream on his cock, but her cunt was pulsating as if she was asking for his cock to slide in again.

“Pathetic. Creamed all over me.” Her inner thighs were coated with wetness, and she didn’t close her legs—not even a bit. She knew that she should always keep them spread for him.

He flipped her on her stomach effortlessly and she immediately arched her back, presenting her ass to him. “What a good fuckdoll.” He slapped her cheeks and placed his tip at her entrance before sinking into her warmth again.

Her walls pulled him back in as if she were some sort of seductress that made him addicted to her. Harry balanced himself and focused on the fast thrusts instead of her extremely warm cunt.

“Fucking insatiable aren’t you?” He grunted with his eyes fixed on his cock entering her pussy and coming out all creamy as her ass jiggled.

Y/n’s muffled moans were all she could offer. With her face smushed in the pillow and brain turned off, she was in fucking heaven.

The arch of her back had him rolling his head backward as his hips rotated forward, going deeper and harder.

“That’s it slut. Take my fucking cock.” He gritted his teeth, grabbing a fistful of her hair, and pulling it backward before wrapping a hand around her neck and lifting her body to his chest. 

She was completely gone. She could only look at him with teary eyes that begged him to claim her.

Deeper, harder, faster.

“D—d…” 

“Good fuckdolls keep their mouth shut.” He tightened his grip on her jaw, tapping on her mouth to open it up before spitting inside.

“Swallow.” If the warmth of her cunt didn’t kill him, it was going to be her face. So needy, compliant, and dizzy from pleasure.

Their bodies were glued to each other, skin to skin with her back to his chest as he thrusted inside her while panting in her ear. 

He was supporting both of their bodies seeing as she could do nothing but whine. His arm was secured around her torso with her hand clinging to his bicep. The clenching of her walls around his cock was always the hardest for him. She’d rile him on trying to milk his cum, taking every drop.

“You wanna cum?” He panted against the back of her neck knowing how her body acts when she’s reaching her orgasm.

She gave him a weak nod, clinging harder to his bicep as she laid her head on his shoulder. They didn’t always cum together, but when they did, the euphoria was unmatched. Harry had been holding himself back ever since he sunk into her, just to feel her shake and pulsate around him as he spilled his cum into her.

“C’mon minx, give it to me.” His tongue left a broad lick on her neck with a harsh bite. It wasn’t her clit that got her off—her sensitive spot was her neck, whether Harry choked her or sucked on her skin—she was a goner.

“H—Harry” Her nails dug into his skin as she looked up at him with sweet eyes and shaky legs.

How could he resist laying his lips on hers as he stilled his hips to empty himself inside her?

She was shuddering—even with their skin glued together. Her sweet moans made his cock twitch inside her, already hungry for more. Her orgasm hit her hard, clouding her vision and thoughts. The feeling of his cum spiling inside her with her pussy clenching to take it inside was the only thing she felt and wanted to feel.

“Fuck. That’s it, take every drop my lo—minx.”  His eyes fluttered open at his word slip up.

His eyes furrowed in confusion and immediately glanced at her face which seemed to be too occupied with cumming. His chest heaved as he swiped his hand across her face, moving her sweaty hair strands away before kissing her temple.

“Talk to me, are you okay?” He angled her face towards him to examine her expression.

“Yes.” A hazy smile was planted across her face making him chuckle.

“Mhmm. I’m going to pull out now and carry you to the bathroom so you can pee.” He gave her a heads up while rubbing her cheeks.

Once she nodded at him, he began pulling out slowly, wincing at being separated from her warmth—something that she reciprocated. Harry tried to avoid looking down—he really did, but it was too tempting.

His creamy load dripped out of her pussy, sliding down her legs, and the more she clenched, the more came out.

“Fucking hell.” He muttered under his breath, swiping his finger across her pussy and gathering his cum before tasting it.

Y/n’s whine echoed in his ear. She sported an angry look on her face that disappeared once he signalled for her to open her mouth. He spat the residue of what he tasted inside of her mouth, enjoying the faint moans that spilled from her.

“C’mon let’s clean you up.” He carried her effortlessly to the bathroom before giving her privacy and heading back to the room to change the sheets.

Who knew that changing bed sheets would make him irritated? He let out a huff, finishing the last touch right as she came out of the bathroom.

She was dressed in nothing but a plain white shirt that barely reached her thighs.

“Hm I love my bed.” She smiled as she climbed the mattress, giving Harry a show.

“Y/n.” He spoke rigidly.

“Yeah?” She glanced up innocently at him as she relaxed under the duvet.

“I was supposed to clean you up…and where are your panties?” He questioned her as he joined her on the bed—nude.

“You can wake me up at night, make a mess then clean me.” She taunted him, switching to the side and giving him a view of the shirt riding up her ass.

He got under the covers, situating himself properly so that he was attached to her.

“Is that what you want little minx? Hmm?” His fingers caressed her skin slowly starting from her arm, down to her legs.

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll see.” He nibbled on before earlobe as she dosed off to sleep. She loved sleeping after sex and Harry knew that, but it was almost 1 in the morning and she needed rest.

Harry dared to let his hand dip in her hair, giving her head scratches as she slept peacefully. He didn’t realize what he was doing until she stirred in her sleep making him pull his hand away.

His eyes furrowed in confusion as he stared at her sleeping face. First the word slip up and now he’s playing with her hair.

What the fuck was going on with him?

Taglist: @prettythingsworld @slut4marvelmenn @wandas-lawyer @tbsloneely @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @missmielyhoran @harryssideboob @harrysficreblog @itslottiehere @hsonlyangelxo @gem1712 @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @hrryberry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @matildasatellite @a-strange-familiar @greivingfortheliving @straightnogayhs @awesomenavy @infinatetatie @be-with-me-so-happily @harrysrockstarsgf @cherrys4suckers @stilesissaved @daphnesutton @elioslover @myalovesharry

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry smut #harry styles story #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry x reader #harry fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry fanfic #harry styles fic #agentrry #harry styles fanfic #harry fics #harry fluff #harry styles mature #harry styles masterlist #harry styles book #harry styles series #harry styles au #harry styles wattpad #mean dom h #dark harry fic #harry styles request #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry angst

[eternvlsound]

The Los Angeles Times California Home Book - 1982

ig: the_80s_interior

#v a p o r w a v e #vaporwave #vaporwave aesthetic #vaporwave art #a e s t h e t i c #aesthetics #water fountain #80s aesthetic #80s style #80s nostalgia #80s #nostalgia #80s decor

[cbrcbbr]

some stuff

#the hunger games #katniss everdeen #everlark #katniss and peeta #peeta mellark #lucy gray baird #gale hawthorne #yeah its f&h style (I’m sorry) #yeah it’s soul eater au (I’m not sorry)

[finelinefae]

the game [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: y/n's desperate to play tennis and who better to coach her than her rival

word count: 6.7k

contains: enemies to lovers, set at a boarding school, jealous h, slow burn, angst, tennis rivals

a/n: this is the very first part of a new series that i am soooooo beyond excited to be writing !! it will most likely have 4/5 parts <333 enjoy !!!

. . .

Crestwood Academy was a prestigious boarding school with a mission to cultivate excellence in its students, many of whom went on to achieve great success in their respective fields. Nestled amidst rolling hills and lush greenery, it welcomed only the most accomplished families into its esteemed halls.

Y/N had attended Crestwood Academy since she was five, thanks to her father, who owned a country club and could afford the tuition. Her parents, strict and focused on success, were determined to give her the best education possible so that she could be the very best. Her face was always buried in a book or spending her days in the library, right up until the very last minute of its opening hours. 

It was her final year at Crestwood Academy before graduation. Y/N had been set on passing all of her exams at the top of her class so had been working extra hard. She studied English, maths, all three sciences, Latin, French and History as well as tennis. 

Y/N's parents had always urged her to pursue a career in the top industries. Despite her efforts to feign interest in that direction, her heart had always belonged to tennis ever since she first took up the sport at Crestwood.

She had competed plenty, winning all the academy trophies and medals. Her parents would visit whenever she competed in finals and congratulated her on winning but saw it as nothing but a hobby to participate in when she wasn’t studying. 

However, Y/N couldn’t deny herself the rush of playing knowing she’d have to part with the sport once she graduated. The career path of becoming a doctor was already laid out for her by her parents but she felt destined to follow a different path. 

Despite the fact she had applied to dozens of schools to study medicine, she still had one more option that had nothing to do with science at all. 

Every year, the academies hosted their own version of a grand slam in which the winning player received a scholarship and three years' worth of training from one of the top tennis academies in the world. Y/N longed to be at the top with the greats and she knew that this competition was the only way she could get there. 

For the most part, Y/N had been self-taught. She watched videos online and took notes from the Wimbledon matches she’d see on the television. Crestwood only had one sports coach who focused most of their time on the football team so if she was going to win the scholarship, she needed the very best. 

She sat on the bleachers, her book open in front of her, but her attention was drawn to the man on the court. The player’s movements were fluid and powerful, each action deliberate and precise. Yet, it was another man who held her gaze—a figure with an impassive expression, focused solely on his player.

When the match was over, Y/N slammed her book shut and walked towards the court after the players shook hands. Her eyes looked down at the limp in his step as he walked towards the cooler to grab a water bottle. 

It had been a while since she had last seen him. She remembered the proud look on his parent’s faces when he was pulled out of Crestwood eighteen months ago and went on to win a grand slam in Australia. She could still feel the intense jealousy that filled her as she watched the match on television whilst studying for her chemistry test that he was also supposed to sit had he stayed. 

Now he was here, back to his roots and maybe it had been fate because what she was about to ask him would determine her own path in the tennis career she longed for. 

His hair was slightly longer now, his brunette, touseled curls were swept to the side in a loose, dishevelled manner. He wore sunglasses to cover his eyes from the sunlight and a navy tracksuit paired with white vans. 

Seeing him brought back the once competitive emotions she had whenever she’d see him strut about the courts every lunchtime but she’d have to suppress those emotions, especially for what she was about to ask him. 

“Excuse me, Harry?” Y/N called out. 

He took a water bottle from the cooler and flicked off the cap before holding it to his lips and gulping it down. Y/N waited, crossing her arms as she did. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up.” Was the first thing he said. 

Y/N didn’t know what to say. It was unexpected to know that he had been waiting to see her, “I didn’t know you were part of the furniture on these courts,” He smirks and Y/N’s jaw ticks. “And you still sit in the exact same spot on those bleachers, to what? Admire me?”

Y/N bristled at Harry's cocky remark, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "Hardly," she retorted, her tone sharp. "I have better things to do than waste my time watching you play."

Harry chuckled, his smirk widening as he leaned against the cooler. "Is that so? Then what brings you here?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. “Come to get an autograph?”

Y/N squared her shoulders, determined not to let his arrogance get under her skin. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something," she replied, her voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Oh? And what might that be?" he inquired, his gaze piercing as he studied her intently.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N gathered her courage and suppressed her pride, "I want you to coach me," she blurted out, her words hanging in the air between them. 

Harry made no effort to hide the surprise on his face but it quickly melted into a cocky smirk, “You want me to coach you? I thought you hated me?” 

“I do,” She replies quickly. She’d hated him ever since he had humiliated her in a battle of the sexes tennis tournament when they were young despite the fact she had little chance of winning against him anyway. “But I don’t have to like you to recognise your talent and right now you're the best and only coach I can get if I’m going to win that scholarship,”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Your parents still want you to study medicine?” Something flickered in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t put her finger on. 

Y/N wasn’t going to give him an answer even though it was obvious, “This is the only chance I get to escape it,” She mutters, “I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

He glanced around before taking a step forward. She was tempted to step back at the same time but she didn’t want to seem intimidated by him so stood her ground. From this proximity, she noticed how much taller he was compared to her - almost an entire foot. 

“What’s in it for me?” He asked.

Y/N knew he’d ask which was why she spent so much time figuring out what she could tell him to make it worthwhile. “I know about your injury,” She says and he stills.

“Everyone knows about my injury.” He grumbles. 

It had been a spectacle in the world of tennis. The new grand slam winner loses out on his second after a fatal injury at the French Open. Y/N remembered seeing him rolling on the ground, holding onto his leg as paramedics ran onto the court to aid him. 

“People think you’re a one-hit wonder since you’re out for the season,” His jaw clenched as she spoke, “But if you coach me and get me to win, I guarantee you’ll be out on the court again - back where you belong,”

“You think an academy league game can get my back onto the court?”

“No, but it's a start and maybe I’ll be competing alongside you the next time you’re playing.” 

There was a moment of silence as Harry absorbed her words, his gaze searching hers for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, he let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Fine," he relented, his voice tinged with resignation. "You want me to coach you? Prove you’re worth coaching.” 

He walked over to the barrel of tennis rackets and picked one up. Y/N narrowed her eyes, remembering the last time they had played against each other and how embarrassed she was afterwards. 

“But you’re-”

“One game won’t hurt,” He said before she could finish. 

She followed, her steps purposeful as she reached for a racket, flipping it over in her hands as she strode to the other end of the court. Despite being clad in her school uniform—a pleated skirt, white shirt with the school crest, and loafers that threatened to slide off her feet—she was determined to prove herself. She'd show him she was worth his time, that she was a far better tennis player than he gave her credit for.

As they took their positions on opposite ends of the court, the tension between them crackled in the air. Y/N gripped her racket tightly, her focus sharp as she prepared to face off against Harry once again.

The first serve sliced through the air, the sound echoing as the ball hurtled towards Y/N. She moved with fluidly, her muscles tensing as she returned the serve.

Harry's response was swift, his movements confident as he returned the ball with a well-placed shot that left Y/N scrambling to keep up. Even with his injury, he still held the precision of a professional. But she refused to back down, her determination driving her to match him shot for shot, rally after rally.

The game intensified as they traded blows, each point reflecting their skills and determination. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she fought to keep pace with Harry, her mind focused solely on the ball. Both Y/N and Harry vocally exerted their energy through grunts and cries as they hit the ball with all their energy. 

Despite her efforts, Harry seemed to anticipate her every move. But Y/N refused to be outdone, drawing on every ounce of strength and skill as she fought to gain the upper hand.

As the game progressed, Harry's skill and experience began to overthrow her. His shots were close to perfect and strategic, leaving Y/N struggling to keep up. Despite her determination, she found herself falling behind as Harry continued to dominate the match.

In the end, it was Harry who emerged victorious, his final shot landing just beyond Y/N's reach with a satisfying thud. As the ball bounced out of the court, Y/N knew that she had been outplayed.

She rested her hands on her knees, hunched over as she tried to regain her breath. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d lost despite the fact she was at a disadvantage anyway. 

Harry’s shadow fell over her but she refused to look up just yet. He spoke anyway, “You’ve gotten better since the last time I saw you,” He spoke, holding a cold water bottle in front of her face. 

She took it, the plastic crackling under her fingers, “You can just say you’re not going to do it,” She mumbled, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of water. 

“I’ll coach you,” He says, “Meet me here at 6 pm tomorrow.” 

Y/N finally looked up, her mouth parted, only to find his back facing her as he walked away from the courts. 

. . . 

Harry had no idea what he had agreed to in coaching Y/N at tennis. 

He sat in his luxurious apartment ten minutes away from Crestwood Academy, surrounded by furniture wrapped in plastic or still in cardboard boxes. 

He sat on the couch with his feet resting on the coffee table in front of him and a glass of whiskey in his hand. The TV was playing quietly in front of him but his mind was on the girl he had spent the majority of his life competing with. 

She had grown since the last time he had seen her before he graduated and left the country to compete in the Australian Open. Her long, tanned legs were on show beneath the grey school skirt she had been wearing. He couldn’t seem to get the image of the visible muscles in her calves out of his mind as she moved across the court to hit the ball during their impromptu tennis match. 

Despite their personal differences, Harry couldn't resist her. There was an undeniable thrill in riling her up, in watching her reactions to the smallest digs. They had once been friends, back when Y/N would trail after him on the playground, eager to understand how to hit a ball with a tennis racket. But as she began competing in school competitions, she quickly learned that beating him was an impossible feat. 

He wasn’t surprised to see her watching him on the court today, in fact, it amused him. Whether she liked it or not, he would always look out in the bleachers for her whenever he’d play during his time at the academy. Her reactions were what kept him going, some might even say made him better. 

But, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was surprised to see her so brazenly asking him to coach her. He could tell by her reaction that it was killing her inside, to be coached by him when all she’d done was pick apart his technique, but it was clear she was desperate and Harry knew it was because of her parents. 

Harry had had his fair dose of strict parentage. When he was told he could no longer play tennis for the season, his parents shipped him straight back to Crestwood to finish his final year since he never actually graduated. 

He loathed them for it, barely saying a word to them as they paid the rent in cash for his apartment and left him with boxes to unpack on his own. He knew they were disappointed in him despite the fact the injury was no fault of his own, they could barely look at him as they left, closing the door behind them. 

It was embarrassing. How could he have gone from being at the top of his game to the very bottom? Now he was back in the place he had turned his back on, feeling like he was back to square one all over again. 

Harry’s thoughts were broken by the sound of his phone ringing. The name of his best friend since he was born lit up the screen.

“What?” Harry answered the call, his train of thought forming a particular level of intolerance in him.

“Hey, is that any way to talk to your best friend?” Mitch replied along with the sound of loud chattering in the background because he always had to be somewhere with someone. 

“Sorry,” Harry huffed, “Long day.”

“Already? You’ve not even started classes yet,” Mitch chuckled.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry hadn’t even begun thinking about being back in classrooms and having to put up with kids his age berating him with questions he didn’t want to answer. Tomorrow would be his first day back and he was dreading it.

“C’mon now, don’t be too glum about it, haven’t you missed me?” 

“No,” Harry lied. 

“I know you well enough now to know when you’re lying.” Mitch laughed down the phone. 

A hint of a smile grazed Harry’s lips, "Whatever," he replied, his tone gruff but lacking conviction. Despite his attempt to feign disinterest, a part of him couldn't deny the truth in Mitch's words. There had been many moments he had experienced after leaving school when he missed the company of people his own age. Everyone around him was older than he was and spoke to him as though he was some prized trophy that needed to be handled with caution. He’d spend evenings by the pool by himself, watching the sunset and wishing his friends were there to celebrate his win with him. 

"I'll take that as a yes," Mitch teased, “I know the boys will be happy to have y’ back and I can introduce you to Sarah. I think Molly Brown still has a thing for you as well by the way, talks about you all the fuckin’ time.” Harry listened to his friend ramble about all the things he had missed in the last year or so but his mind seemed to travel elsewhere. 

His eyes wandered around the room, his ear still pressed to his phone, until they landed on an open box with a picture frame resting on top. He recognized the photo immediately, even without picking it up, because he had kept it hidden in his old dorm desk. In the picture, a group of eight students—four boys and four girls—smiled at the camera, with Harry standing at the back and Y/N right beside him.

. . . 

Y/N slammed the door of her locker shut after pulling out her workbooks for her next class. Students bustled down the hallways of Crestwood Academy, wearing their navy blazers and uniform for another week of school. 

“Have you seen him yet?” Sarah, Y/N’s best friend, came out of nowhere and stood in front of her. 

“Seen who?” Y/N remained indifferent even though she knew who Sarah was referring to. 

Everyone had been talking about Harry since she had walked into school from her dorm room this morning. It was the main topic of conversation, everyone’s eyes darting around the hallways to try and find him. 

“You know,” Sarah nudged her, “The boy you’ve spent most of your life in a one-sided rivalry with?” 

“One-sided? It’s a mutual hatred,” Y/N argued.

Sarah gave her a look before continuing, “I texted Mitch twenty minutes ago but he hasn’t replied. I know I’ve met Harry before but this is the first time I’ll be meeting him as Mitch’s girlfriend and I don’t want it to change anything.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, “Sarah, just because he’s the winner of a grand slam doesn’t make his opinion of you any more important. Whether Harry likes you or not, everyone knows you and Mitch are perfect for each other.”

Y/N remembered the first time her friend had told her she was seeing Mitch. He had taken her out to dinner a few times and Sarah had come back to their shared dorm swooning and unable to stop herself from rambling the rest of the night about how romantic and funny he was. 

Y/N had never experienced anything like that in her life, too busy focusing on tennis and academia to find herself in relationships, but she was happy her best friend was happy and that was all that mattered to her. 

“I know but he’s important to Mitch. They’ve been best friends since infants and… that’s not all I’m worried about,” Sarah looked at Y/N pointedly. 

“What?” 

“Now that Mitch and I are together, that means we’ll be spending more time around each other which also means…” Sarah didn’t have to finish her sentence for Y/N to understand what she was trying to get at. 

“Oh n-no! No way! Sarah, are you being serious right now?” Y/N whined, “You want me to get along with Harry just because you’re dating his best friend?”

“You don’t have to but it would be nice if you did,” Her voice trailed off at the end, her eyes looking at her pleadingly, “I’m not asking you to be best friends, I’m just asking you not to chew his head off when we’re all in the same room together.”

Y/N wanted to argue and tell her she wouldn’t be able to chew his head off anyway because she needed him to coach her for the scholarship but an arm slid around Sarah’s waist and interrupted their conversation. 

Sarah grinned, turning to look up at her boyfriend who was now standing beside her, “Hey babe,” Mitch smiled.

“You’re here,” Sarah craned her neck to kiss his lips, “I texted you forever ago and you never replied.

Mitch scoffed, “It was twenty minutes ago and I didn’t have time to check my phone, too busy dragging this one through the front gates.”

Out of the corner of Y/N's eye, another figure appeared. She didn’t have to look to see who it was, the sudden surge of annoyance within her already gave them away. Her head tilted to the left to look up and see Harry. 

He was wearing his school uniform, the same way he always did before he left for Australia. His shirt was untucked, and the top button was undone revealing a gold chain and a white vest underneath, his grey trousers were ironed with not a crinkle in sight and his navy blazer hung casually behind him, hooked by his middle finger.

Y/N’s eyes shifted behind him to find people whispering to each other and groups of girls giggling as they walked past. It was nothing new to see girls getting riled up over him but it had become more intensified now that he had gone abroad and made a name for himself. Despite his injury preventing him from playing, Y/N was certain that even if Harry had lost every game and embarrassed himself on live television, people would still adore him.

“Hey Harry,” Sarah offered a kind smile.

“Hi Sarah, nice to see you again. Glad to know Mitch was in good hands whilst I was away,” Harry clapped his friend on the shoulder before turning to Y/N.

“Only the very best,” Mitch pulled Sarah into his side before motioning to Y/N, “You remember Sarah’s best friend Y/N right?”

“Hmmm, aren’t you the one who lost the Junior tennis competition to me a few years ago?” Harry smirked.

Y/N's jaw clenched, but she managed to force a smile. "I could be, but aren’t you the one who they recorded rolling around on the floor like a big baby at the French Open last year?" Her retort was sharp, aimed directly at Harry.

Harry's eyes narrowed in response, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. Y/N felt a sense of satisfaction at having gotten such a reaction from him. "Welcome back to Crestwood," she added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Mitch and Sarah exchanged weary glances, sensing the tension between Y/N and Harry.

"Quite a welcome. I’ve already been asked to coach someone and I’ve only been back a week," Harry remarked, his gaze still fixed on Y/N, who met his stare with a glare of her own.

"You have?" Mitch frowned, his confusion evident.

"Who?" Sarah asked, equally perplexed.

Harry's eyes remained locked on Y/N, giving them their answer. "You asked him to coach you?" Sarah questioned her confusion mirroring Mitch's.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, "Yeah, I did," she admitted reluctantly, her gaze flickering briefly to Harry before returning to Mitch and Sarah.

"Why would you ask him to coach you?" Sarah asked, her brow furrowing in confusion, “You argue all the time,” 

Y/N hesitated, “I need to win the scholarship to the tennis academy in London and Harry’s the only person here who knows how to play the game.” 

“Glad to know I was the pick of the bunch,” Harry’s voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“I thought you were applying to go to UCL?” Sarah frowned. 

“I was but you know how much the game means to me and my parents refuse to believe it’s more than just a hobby. This is the only chance I’ll get to prove them wrong and the only option to get me out of studying medicine.” Y/N explained. 

Sarah’s eyes softened, she too was no stranger to how strict Y/N’s parents could be. “Which is why she needs me,” Y/N felt the weight of his arm rest across her shoulders, “Right, love?” 

Y/N spun around to face Harry, eyes sharp, “Don’t call me that,” She hissed, seeing the satisfied grin on his face. 

He shrugged, “But I always call you that,” 

Ever since they were teenagers, when the rivalry first began, Harry had opted to calling Y/N ‘love’ knowing how much it riled her up. To some, it was a term of endearment but in the world of tennis the word ‘love’ meant one thing. 

‘Nil, ‘Zero’, ‘Loser’. 

Y/N hated the way he spoke it too - accentuating each letter of the word to drag it out for as long as he could just to annoy her further. 

She stepped forward, “Call me that one more time,” She threatened.

“Or what?” He tilted his head to the side. 

“Guys seriously, break it up,” Sarah intervened, “Aren’t you supposed to be getting along if you’re going to be spending more time together.”

Y/N hated the thought of it but knew she was right. If she wanted Harry to coach her, she couldn’t go around screwing things up by arguing with him. If he was going to coach her at the sport, she’d have to coach herself in controlling her attitude around him. 

“C’mon Sarah, let’s go to class,” Y/N hooked arms with her best friend, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. 

“Oh okay, bye Mitch.” Sarah kissed her boyfriend before she was dragged down the hallway in a hurry.

Harry watched as Y/N practically sprinted down the hallway with Sarah in tow. He felt the need to call out of her for one last dig just so she would turn around and he’d see her face before she rounded the corner, “See you on the courts, love.” He called down to her. 

As he had hoped, Y/N’s head whipped around to glare at him along with her middle finger, “Asshole!” She called back.

Harry chuckled to himself, “That face,” he murmured. 

Mitch placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “You’ve got it in for yourself with that one, lad.” Mitch said.

“Tell me about it,” Harry replied, his eyes still on the place he’d last seen Y/N. 

Maybe returning to Crestwood wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

. . . 

With Harry back, Y/N had suspected the day would be a drag with everyone constantly bringing him up in every conversation, but the first half of the day had gone well. Y/N was easily used to her classes by now and was still top of the class in all of them. 

During lunch period, Y/N always sat with Sarah in the library where they’d catch up on what they missed out on each other’s lives or study during exam season. It was nice to have some reprieve during the school hours and whenever she was with Sarah, Y/N could talk for hours and hours.

Now that Sarah was dating Mitch, Y/N and Sarah would spend their lunch with his friends in the lunch hall. Y/N didn’t mind it so much having grown used to being around Mitch’s friends despite their loud and boisterous personalities. 

However, today she was dreading the fact that now her lunchtimes would also include being around the person she wanted to spend as little amount of time with as possible. 

“Can’t we just eat in the library today? Please?” Y/N pulled on the sleeve of her best friend's blazer as she begged her to turn back in the direction of the library. She could already picture Harry’s annoying smirk the closer they got to the entrance of the lunch hall.

“Y/N you’re being dramatic. It’s just an hour, I’m sure you can survive being around him that long.” Sarah continued to tug her down the hallway.

“Sarah I already have to spend enough time as it is,” Now that she asked him to be her coach. The more the day went by the more she was starting to regret her decision. 

Sarah spun on her heel, “Think of this as practice then,” Her eyes looked past Y/N’s shoulder, “Look, there they are,” She moved past her and beelined towards their table where Y/N saw Mitch, Jake and Adam already sitting along with that head of brunette curls that Y/N just wanted to tear out every time she saw him. 

Sighing, she followed Sarah and approached the table responding to everyone’s friendly greetings until she got to Harry, “You’re in my seat,” She spoke after realising all the seats were taken. 

Harry didn’t bother to look around, that stupid grin plastered to his face when he looked up at her, “Am I?” 

Y/N gritted her teeth, “Yes,”

“Hmm,” He swivelled around to look at the back of the chair, “I don’t see your name anywhere.”

A wave of chuckles rippled around the table but Y/N had yet to find the amusement in it. “She does always sit there, H.” Mitch chuckles, “Just grab another chair from a different table.”

Harry leant back against the seat and crossed one leg over his thigh, “But I quite like this seat.” 

“I’m not moving until you get out of my seat,” Y/N crossed her arms, refusing to give in to him. 

“Well you’re going to be stood up for a long time and y’ need those legs for later,” Harry smirked, “Or you could just sit here,” He unfolded his legs and motioned towards his lap, “Still your seat.” 

Y/N’s jaw clenched but before she could respond, Adam chuckled and stood up, “Here,” He picked another chair up from an empty table and set it down next to him, “Y’ can sit here Y/N.” 

She was tempted to refuse and continue to nag Harry for the rest of lunch but decided against it, not wanting to waste her energy on him. Her eyes softened at Adam’s kindness, “Thanks, Adam.” She sat beside him. 

Harry’s smirk seemed to falter when Y/N sat down, watching as Adam looked at Y/N even as she turned to face the others. 

“Is that Molly Brown looking at y’ again Harry?” Jake, who Y/N considered the loudest one of Mitch’s friends, leant over the table to speak lowly to Harry even though it was impossible for him to ever be so quiet. 

Harry forced himself to look away from Adam before he burnt holes into him. “She’s been after him since fifth year,” Mitch chuckled. 

“Y’ think you’ll let her have it this year, H?” Jake takes a spoonful of his lunch and swallows it down. 

“Have what?” Sarah frowned, confused.

“Nothing you need to know about, babe,” Mitch replies, opening her waterbottle for her after she silently handed it to him. 

“I’ve never been interested in Molly,” Harry quickly replies but his ears prick when he hears Y/N laughing quietly with Adam. 

“Mind if I take my chances then?” Jake asks, “I’ve always wanted to date a cheerleader,” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Harry shakes him off, “What about you Adam?” He gets the attention from both Y/N and Adam as they look up, “Don’t you have a thing for Molly?”

Adam furrows his brows, “Molly Brown? Maybe in like third year,” He chuckles, “I’m not interested in anyone at the moment.”

Harry wants to laugh in his face, “Y’ sure about that?”

Adam frowns but Y/N quickly interrupts them, “People are allowed to have other interests you know.”

Harry feels that rush of excitement when she speaks run through his body, “Is this a touchy subject for you?”

Y/N scowls, “No, I’m just saying Adam doesn’t need to be interested in girl’s all the time.”

“Well maybe Adam can speak for himself,” Harry quips.

“Lord save me,” Jake mumbles and Sarah laughs.

“Well what about you? Have you managed to sink your fangs into anyone?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N gapes, “I’ve dated plenty of people,”

The image unsettles Harry but he takes the opportunity to tease Y/N further. "Plenty of people, huh?" he echoes.

Y/N's cheeks flush slightly,  "I mean... well, not plenty, but a few," she stammers.

But Harry doesn't let up, "Oh, really?" he presses, "Care to share? I'm sure we'd all love to hear about the few men who you’ve tempted."

Y/N shoots him a glare, knowing full well that Harry was onto her. "I... uh, well," she stumbles over her words, searching for a way to change the subject.

But before she can respond, Adam jumps in. "Come on, Harry, give her a break," he glowers. 

“Yeah, Y/N’s just waiting for the right guy and there’s nothing wrong with that,” Sarah pipes in, always one to have her best friend’s back.

Harry raises an eyebrow, his gaze flickering between Y/N and Adam before settling on Y/N, who shifts uncomfortably. Sensing the tension, Mitch swiftly changes the subject to something else.

. . . 

After lunch, Y/N made her way to her next class with Adam walking alongside her. Out of all of Mitch’s friends, she got on the most with Adam to the point where Sarah was constantly pestering her over considering a date with him but Y/N didn’t see him as any more than a good friend.  He was quiet and kept to himself for the most part, excelling in the arts and playing bass guitar in a band on weekends. Y/N enjoyed the calmness he brought to the group especially with the others being so loud all the time. 

“What do you think?” Adam asked, holding the strap of his backpack in one hand as it hung over his right shoulder. 

“What do I think about what?” Y/N frowned. 

“You know, Harry being back. I know you two didn’t always get along,” He explained.

Y/N scoffed, “If it weren’t for the fact he’s coaching me for the Academy Slam, I would be praying to whatever God that’d listen to send him back to Australia,” Which was also the furthest possible country he could be away from her. 

Adam chuckled, “He told us earlier he’d be coaching you,” 

Y/N scowled, “I bet he couldn’t get enough of it,” 

“Actually he seemed pretty happy about it. We haven’t seen him that happy since he got back from Australia.”

“Really? Maybe that injury did something to his head,” 

“What makes you hate him so much anyway?” Adam asked. 

Y/N sighed. It was a question she heard often but never had a solid answer for. She couldn't quite explain why she disliked Harry so much. Maybe it was because he had things she wanted, and jealousy often turned into hatred. But there was something more, something she couldn't quite pin down.

Despite her dislike, Y/N went to all of Harry's matches, and she watched them on TV too. Even when she tried to stay in her room, her legs seemed to move on their own, taking her to the courts to watch him play. She hated that part of her rooted for him, and she couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because Harry had been the first person to teach her how to play and she felt some sense of loyalty to that but she had no perfect answer even though she wished for one. 

“His face annoys me,” Y/N says.

“That’s it?” Adam snickers. 

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “We’ve always had this rivalry that stemmed out of nowhere but I can’t even remember how it started.”

“You don’t have feelings for him do you?” The question came out of nowhere and took Y/N completely off-guard. 

"What? No!" Y/N's response came out a little too quickly, and she hoped her cheeks hadn't betrayed her by turning red.

Adam shrugged. "Just making sure," he said casually. "You know, some people get them mixed up—love and hate."

Y/N furrowed her brow, genuinely puzzled. "How is that even possible?"

"Well, they're both intense emotions, aren't they?" He mused. "And sometimes, when you feel strongly about someone, whether it's love or hate, it can blur the lines between the two."

Y/N pondered his words, a sense of unease settling in her stomach, "No way," she replied firmly, shaking her head. "I may not like him, but there's definitely no love there."

Adam chuckled, sensing her defensiveness. "Alright, that’s good," he said with a grin.

Y/N felt a hint of a smile on her lips, “What does that mean? That’s good?”

Adam shrugged, still smiling, “Jus’ saying,” He spoke and Y/N laughed. 

Her gaze flicked from Adam's to Harry, who stood in the hallway with Molly Brown, her brunette waves tied up in the perfect, slicked back ponytail. Hoping to slip by unnoticed, she quickened her pace, but it was too late. Harry's eyes locked onto hers, then shifted to Adam. She caught the subtle twitch of his jaw before he pushed off the wall, ignoring Molly, and strode toward them.

Adam must not have noticed Harry coming towards them because he quickly bid goodbye so he could rush to his literature class. Y/N picked up her pace but Harry was already by her side, “Do you like him?” Harry asked.

“Who Adam? Well let’s see, he’s nice and smart and doesn’t feel the need to open his mouth every five seconds unlike some people I know, so yeah I do like him.” 

Harry scoffed, “He’s a little boring don’t you think?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry's comment, a retort already forming on her lips. "Nice of you to say that about your own best friend," she quipped. "Makes me wonder what you say about me."

Before she could say anything more, she gasped in surprise as Harry tugged on her hand and swiftly spun her around until her back was against the row of lockers. Her heart raced as he stepped forward, blocking her in, and dipped his head closer to hers.

"I think we need some ground rules for this whole coaching thing," Harry murmured, his voice low. "If you're planning on winning, I recommend using your time more wisely instead of wasting it on nice boys."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she processed his words. "Is that a rule or are you asking me not to date anyone?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Both," Harry replied, his tone unwavering.

Her mind raced, unsure how to respond, "What about you then?" she countered.

"Is that a personal request?" Harry's smirk widened, his gaze locking onto hers. "Because I'm the coach, and I set the ground rules so anything you ask me to do is because you want me to do it."

Y/N's heart pounded louder in her ears as Harry's proximity sent heat coursing through her, "It's only fair," she replied, her voice barely audible.

Harry chuckled softly. "Fine, if it makes you happy. But I’m not interested in dating nice girls or boys anyway," he remarked with a smirk.

Y/N swallowed, her curiosity piqued. "What are you interested in?" 

He smirked, "The game," he replied cryptically.

With that, he moved away from her, his eyes lingering on her lips for a moment before he turned and walked down the hallway, “See you tonight, love.” He called back. 

As the sound of his footsteps faded, Y/N stood there, stunned and unable to move. She was grateful that no one had witnessed the exchange as she pulled out her compact, trying to compose herself and hide the flush of embarrassment that coloured her cheeks.

As she hurried to class, already five minutes late, Y/N couldn't shake the intensity of her encounter with Harry. Sitting by the window, her mind wandered as the teacher lectured the class, her gaze drifting to the courts outside where she'd soon be training with him this evening.

This coach-student dynamic had unlocked a new territory between them, something unpredictable that Y/N had no choice but to delve into for the months ahead. 

Yet, it was her only choice. Harry was the only way she could win and she’d push through whatever feelings she had to get what she wanted. 

She’d play the game, just as he wanted her to. 

#harry styles fic rec #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic rec #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry edward styles #harry styles writing #writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #tennisplayer!h #tennisplayer!y/n #enemies to lovers #tennis rivals #fanfic rec #fanfiction #one direction #harry styles rec