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ifancyharry · 6 months

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Ever since New York

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

September.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

YN wonders whether she should quit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

YN knows she should definitely quit.

...

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

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

Things haven’t been easy.

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

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

Today has been a long day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally.

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a long day.

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know” she ponders.

“Please, YN”

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

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

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

YN doesn’t know what happens next.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay, it’s okay” he comforts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay” she says softy, sniffling.

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

October

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

YN has to refrain herself from laughing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow… that clearly is something…”

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

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

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

Everything is green.

…

Harry is hiding something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I bet” he chuckles.

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

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

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

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

“What are ye watchin’?”

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

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

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

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

“No, not in that sense at least”

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so dramatic” she giggles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, you would” she agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Better?” He asks.

“Much better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just a compliment.

Like a friend would to another. Right?

…

It’s not easy to avoid your boss.

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

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

And he’s many things all together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah of course” he shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not saying anything”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s literally my boss”

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

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

“Deal” he nods his head swiftly.

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

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

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

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

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

…

“I need you to do my makeup”

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

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

Well, turns out, it is hard.

So, YN was really his last hope.

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

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

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

“I need you to do my makeup”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hold your hair for me please”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, “I’d like that”.

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

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

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

“All done!”

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

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

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

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

“Blush! I’m thinking lots of blush!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay, no problem at all!”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t follow?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels embarrassed.

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

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

Because he had been a dick.

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t think he likes her like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

She must be so tired.

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

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

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

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

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

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stylescine · 9 months

Text

Weeks apart

Summary: Husband Harry returns from tour. Him and Y/N are eager to catch up on what they’ve missed.

Pairing: Husband!Harry x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only, unprotected sex (p in v), doggy, harry is a huge tease, edging, dirty talk, praise, tiny bits of spanking, fingering, masturbation , harry giving reader instructions, mentions of alcohol, talk of nude pictures, creampie (wrap it before you tap it kids), fluff (aftercare), NOT PROOFREAD

Words: 4.8k

A/N: I'm back!! and hopefully I'll become more active now. But now, enjoy this smutty husband Harry one shot because I definitely enjoyed writing it ;)

Masterlist | Request

There was nothing more boring than being without Harry for weeks. FaceTime calls and hour-long calls couldn’t make up for all the time apart.

It was especially haunting her when she was in bed, alone, the other side of the bed eerily empty and waiting for his return. There was no one to hug her in the morning, to wake her up with forehead kisses or watch TV with her in the evening.

They tried to keep in touch as much as possible. It wasn’t a rarity that Harry sent her lots of pictures from wherever he was in the world at the moment. She could fill an entire folder with them. When he was waiting for a flight or bored in his hotel room, he messaged her whatever came into his head and she loved to chat with him throughout the day.

But it just didn’t compare to the feeling of living with him. To have him around her, with his beautiful laugh and his arms around her whenever he could.

She missed him at dinner when he wasn’t there to pull the chair back for her or smile at her from across the table. He didn’t drink his tea with her in the morning and only updated her on his breakfast through messages.

She also missed him when she was in their bed, alone, thinking about him. Her own hands couldn’t replace his. They couldn’t replace the feeling of Harry pushing her legs apart, tongue sliding through her folds and his hands gripping her thighs. No toy could compare to the feeling of having him inside her. Nothing could ever make her come like Harry did.

When she was in the shower, she tried to imagine his naked body pressed against hers. To have her breasts pressed against the cold wall as he was thrusting inside her from behind.

But he wasn’t there and she would have to wait.

The day finally came.

She had counted the minutes until his plane would land and she would take him home with her. Leaning against her car, she couldn’t wait for Harry to come out of the airport and finally be in her arms again. It had been too long. Her body practically ached for him. For a hug, for a kiss… she just wanted to have him close again.

Then the double doors finally slid open and out came her husband. Harry was carrying his bag and his suitcase as he was heading towards her. A large smile spread over his face, the excitement in his face undeniable.

Looking at him, having him in front of her again, was enough to make her crave him even more. The sunglasses complimented his face, his hair as perfect as always and she couldn’t deny the urge to run her hands through it again. Messing up his hair was a habit of hers, but she knew that her husband adored it anyways.

How could he always look so good? If she didn’t know him, she wouldn’t have been able to tell that he just had a long plane journey behind him.

She made a few more steps towards him as Harry placed down his suitcase on the ground, opening his arms for her. Y/N was giddy with excitement, her steps speeding up until she could finally wrap her arms around him, hugging him as tightly as she could. His hands moved to her back, holding her close. The smell of his perfume filled her nose in an instant, her body relaxing as she could hear his heartbeat against her ear.

“I missed you.” His voice was a whisper into her hair. His hands moved up and down on her back slowly, taking her in as much as he could. “I missed you too,” she replied with a smile before tilting her head up to look at him.

Harry was smiling at her, tears glistening in his eyes. His hands moved to her cheeks instead, soft thumbs slowly moving over her skin. He leaned down, capturing her lips with his own and it still felt as good as the first time they had kissed. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, telling him not to let go anytime soon. She had missed kissing him. The wonderful pressure of his lips against her own, the taste of his lips on her tongue and the thrill it sent through her body every time. Kissing Harry felt like a drug. It was undeniably addictive.

His hands slid down her body again, resting on her waist as he pulled her closer. “Missed your body so much,” he whispered against her lips and it was enough to make a shiver run through her body.

Her body had missed him just as much and they had a lot to catch up on.

The door fell closed behind them in an instant. Harry gave her a knowing grin.

They had both wanted this for so long. All the endless messages of how their body was craving the other. All the pictures sent back and forth, in an attempt to achieve the same pleasure as they would in person. But nothing would ever match the real thing. The heat that was building between them now.

“Let’s take you to bed, darling.”

Harry’s arm wrapped around the back of her legs, swiftly picking her up in his arms.

As he carried her up the stairs, she was inevitably reminded of their wedding night. Harry had carried her up the stairs the exact same way, as traditional as ever in a wedding night, having her kissed over and over until they had finally reached the bedroom.

It was the same now and her excitement was just as big.

“Just like our wedding night.”

Harry gave her a grin in return. “Of course. You deserve that treatment all year long. Not just at our wedding.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, reassuring her that he would always show her the love she deserved. Harry would always care for her and love her the way she should be loved.

Unconditionally.

When they finally reached the bedroom, he gently placed her down on their bed.

That’s where the tone very much shifted.

They had talked about Harry being the more dominant part during sex before. They had enjoyed the slight play of power, the new opportunities that opened up with it. And she had been eager to continue where they had left off before he had gone on tour.

Harry’s eyes darkened with lust as he stepped closer to the edge of the bed. His fingers found her chin, gently tilting her head up to make her look at him.

“I hope you were a good girl while I was away.” His voice had lowered. He leaned forward slowly, his lips grazing her nose and then her mouth for a second. “I was thinking about you every night. I was thinking about how pretty you look when you suck me off. Or how well you bounce on my cock, sweetheart.” His voice was merely a whisper.

She pressed her legs together in excitement, feeling the tension and want growing in her belly. Her hand moved over the man’s legs in front of her, wandering over the soft fabric of his pants before his bigger hand came to stop her. Their fingers intertwined for just a moment before he let go of her again.

She dropped her hand to rest on her knees, waiting for him to make the next move. She looked as eager as she felt, eyes wide open and cheeks red from anticipation.

“Undress,” he instructed, walking over to the armchair at the other end of the room. Harry grabbed a glass from the small table in front of it, pouring himself a drink before he sat down, watching his wife intently. He couldn’t wait to see her naked, to wrap his lips around her nipples again and make her scream and squirm underneath him. There was only so much his hand could do and nothing compared to the feeling of being inside her.

Y/N was quick to follow his words and pull her shirt over her head. She got back up from the bed to open her pants and slide them down her thighs, feeling Harry’s eyes on her constantly. The hunger in them was undeniable. He took a sip of his drink, crossing his legs as he sat in the armchair to enjoy the show.

She unclasped her bra with ease, letting it fall to the ground. Harry let his eyes wander over her perfect breasts, his tongue craving to flick against her nipples. He could feel the boner in his pants, straining against the fabric, but he would have to leave it like this for a little bit longer.

Her fingers hooked into the sides of her panties and she stepped out of them when they fell to the ground. She didn’t feel any kind of shame to stand like this in front of Harry. His gaze alone was enough to show her how much he was enjoying the view.

His tongue moved over his lips for a brief moment before he started speaking again. “Lay down on the bed for me and get yourself ready. I want to see you play with that perfect pussy of yours.” The excitement even translated into his voice. Another sip from his glass before he got back up and out of the chair. He bent down to open his shoes quickly and take them off.

She laid down in the middle of the bed in that time, spreading her legs for him. She wanted to assure he would have a good view of what would be happening. The thought of Harry watching her, being there to see her touch herself, was enticing enough and made her legs shiver with want. Her hand travelled over her own stomach, finding that warm spot between her legs. Two fingers started to rest on her clit while Harry’s eyes followed her hand closely. He didn’t even dare to take off his shirt, fearing that he would even miss a second of the show unfolding before him.

Y/N started to move her fingers in slow, circular motions and leant her head back onto the mattress, looking up at the ceiling as she was touching herself. Her pleasure was slowly increasing, but she was taking it slow because she knew more would await her as soon as Harry would come over and start touching her.

The sight in front of him reminded Harry of the videos she had sent him. The videos he had so often watched while he was on his own, in some hotel room, moving his hand up and down on his shaft as he imagined being inside of his beautiful wife instead. Watching her in real time in front of him now was even better, but his fingertips were already aching to touch her properly. To not stand away in a safe distance and only be able to watch.

When she took a moment to readjust her hand to start with faster motions, Harry took the chance to take off his shirt and open his pants. He slid them down his legs quickly, both the pants and shirt quickly being forgotten on the ground. Just in his boxers, she took a moment to look at him and admire the growing arousal that was hard to ignore. Her hand was craving to get a hold on it.

“Keep going,” he instructed her, voice growing deeper as he made a few steps closer to her. The feeling of being watched by him was turning her on even more as she started to move her hand a lot faster and her legs started to shiver with arousal. She could feel the insides of her thighs growing more wet and the tension in her belly heighten.

Her movements grew more frantic as she was trying to chase after her own climax. Moans slipped past her lips as she continued to move towards that sweet release. Her legs started to move together a bit again, but she kept flicking over her clit, then moving her fingers in circles once more. Her cheeks grew red as she was so close to her orgasm, but-

Harry’s fingers wrapped around her wrist and stopped her hand from moving. “That’s enough for now.”

The edging left her breathless and looking up at her husband with wide eyes. She wanted that release, but she knew this was a part of their game. Harry would give her what she wanted when the time was right. And there was no better feeling than coming with him inside her anyways.

Taking a deep breath, she sat up on the bed again, tilting her head back to look up at Harry standing in front of her. He took a step forward to stand between her legs, his eyes wandering over her naked body and she could read the desire off his face. His pupils were wide and his hands were quick to move over her shoulders, up over her neck until he was cupping her face with his hands.

His thumb moved over her lips, tracing their shape, before he pushed them apart to let her take his thumb into her mouth. She sucked on it ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact with the man in front of her.

When he pulled his hand away from her again, there was a smirk on his lips. His other hand moved back over her neck, feeling the soft skin of her collarbones, until he reached her left breast. His thumb flicked over her nipple now, his other hand soon joining on her right boob. A long sigh left her as he continued to flick her nipples with his thumbs. He did so with a precision that left her breathing heavily, chest pushing up into his touch.

“Harry.”

His name sounded like music from her lips. It made him smirk even more, his eyes searching for hers again. She had her eyes half closed, enjoying the bliss his fingers was giving her on her breasts.

Then he stopped with the movements, thumbs hovering over her erect nipples.

“Lay back down,” he whispered and watched her fall back onto the bed. The sight was heavenly. He would take a thousand pictures of her if he could. Maybe he would one day. Have her pose for him in nice underwear and keep those pictures in his phone for when he was away.

Harry palmed himself through his boxers for a moment. He needed to feel her tight cunt around him soon or it would drive him absolutely crazy.

“Spread your legs for me, darling,” he instructed, watching her open her legs.

He could watch her for hours. The pink of her pussy spread out before him, wetness coating her legs already. Harry moved his hands over her skin. His calloused fingers were enough to send shivers down her spine and make her legs tremble. She wanted him so bad and it was driving her crazy that he wasn’t inside of her yet. Her walls were clenching around nothing, wanting that release so badly.

Her husband looked so good in the dim light of the bedroom. His eyes were darkened with lust, pupils wide as he kneeled between her legs and kissed from her ankles up to her knees and then eventually over the insides of her thighs. Harry’s light stubble rubbed against her skin and left her shivering in its wake. She pushed her hips up, desperate for more, desperate to feel him where she wanted it the most.

“Harry, please,” she whimpered, spreading her legs apart even more.

“You need me so bad, love, don’t you?” His teasing was driving her crazy, but it was sexy at the same time. Harry’s mouth came closer to her ear, teeth brushing over her earlobe, before he continued to whisper to her.

“Been thinking about your wet pussy all the time. How much it needs me.” She could feel his hand slide up her thigh, nearing her sensitive core until he slipped one finger inside with ease. It was barely a stretch, but even the slightest friction felt good enough to let a moan escape her. His finger curled ever so slightly, pushing again that sweet spot inside of her. It made her whimper, her hands searching for support by holding onto her husband’s shoulders.

She could smell his cologne and admire his tattoos as he was hovering over her. There was a bit of sweat on his chest, his cross necklace hanging loose in front of it. There was no better sight in the world and she pushed her hips up to demand more.

“I need you so bad,” she whispered, her voice breaking. How much more would she have to beg to finally feel Harry fill her out again?

He took his hand away from her, leaving her pussy clenching around nothing again.

His hands moved to her hips instead, looking down at her. There was a mischievous smirk on his face, already telling her that it would still be a while until she could feel the sweet release of her orgasm. “We’re going to take our time, sweetheart.”

She let out another whimper, a sign that she was craving anything he was willing to give her right now. Her eyes searched Harry’s, but before she could really read his expression, he flipped her onto her stomach with ease. A surprised gasp escaped her, but her excitement quickly rose. Having Harry fuck her from behind was one of her favourite positions. She could always feel him a lot deeper that way and his cock already wasn’t small.

Wiggling her butt a little, she was hoping to gain a bit more attention from Harry. Her husband was mentally focused on her, but she needed to feel his large hands cup her ass or feel his stubble rub against her sensitive skin. He had left her ass cheeks covered with love bites often enough, the sight alone being enough to remind her of previous nights whenever she walked past a mirror in the morning.

“So eager for me,” Harry groaned, hand moving over her lower back, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. His rings were cold against her skin as he started to squeeze her left cheek.

She bit down on her bottom lip as she pushed her butt up to meet him. She wanted more of his touches. Needed him to touch her everywhere. To pull her legs apart and lick through her folds. Her pussy was craving his body and she didn’t know how much more patience she had.

Yet it didn’t change the fact that all of it was heightening her excitement. Her tummy was full with that familiar tension, the same desire she always felt. The one that hadn’t been satisfied for so long as Harry was touring around the world.

She could feel Harry remove his hand from her butt slowly.

“How I missed your body.”

His hand came down onto her skin again in an instant. It left behind a sting that made her moan and writhe underneath his touch. She could especially feel where his rings had met with her sensitive skin and she was craving more.

Hearing Harry talk about how much he had missed her, how much he had been craving her body just as she had been craving his, was boosting her confidence quite easily. Their relationship had always been built on trust and comfort, but she still loved to receive praise or kind words from him. Especially when they had been apart for so long and it was finally time to catch up with all they had missed out on.

“You better send me more pictures of that ass next time,” Harry mumbled into her ear. She could now feel his weight on top of her back, feel the fabric of his boxers pressed against her ass. His hard dick was pressed between her butt cheeks, his hips moving slowly as he was grinding against her. Low moans escaped Harry’s throat. She pushed her hips up once more, desperate for even a little bit more of the friction.

It became harder for Harry to hold himself back as well, so he figured it would now be the time to finally feel her again. He pushed his boxers down and discarded them somewhere in the room, lying down between her legs again. His chest was pressed against her back, his weight on top of her a welcomed sensation, as his lips moved over her shoulder blades and one of his hands brushed down over her waist.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, lips attaching to the back of her neck. He started to suck on the soft skin, moans leaving her mouth in response. His tongue soon flicked over the sensitive spot, his teeth nibbling on the red bruise for a second before he moved further down. Kisses were planted on her spine until Harry reached her lower back and eventually her ass.

His teeth sunk softly into her cheeks. She let out a gasp, wiggling against the mattress. She needed more. It was starting to get more and more unbearable.

“Do you want me to fuck you, darling? Tell me how much you want it.” Harry enjoyed asking her about it explicitly. It didn’t matter how much her body was already showing him that she was in need of his touch, he wanted to hear it come from her lips.

“Yes. I need you so bad, Harry. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” Her voice was shaking, tinged with desire and continuous want.

“Then I don’t want to keep you waiting for longer.”

The sentence alone was relieving her and urging her on at the same time. She would finally get what she had been fantasising about all this time. His hands had wandered her body in her dreams, she had used toys to try and replicate the feeling of Harry inside her, but it would never feel like the real experience. She needed it. It was almost like she had been starving and Harry was finally giving her body what it needed.

Harry pulled her up onto her knees by her hips. “Keep your ass in the air for me, pretty girl,” he whispered, just loud enough for her to still hear it.

His cock pressed against her ass as he was grinding against it. Slow at first, then with a bit more pressure. His hands continued their path over the curve of her bum, kneading its cheeks for a moment as he watched her squirm on the bed. His right hand moved lower, brushing over the inside of her thigh until he found her wetness once more.

“Someone is so excited for my cock.” Harry’s voice was low, but he didn’t conceal the chuckle that left after his words.

He pushed her legs apart a bit more to gain more space for himself.

She buried her face in the comfortable pillows on the end of the bed, biting her lip as she waited patiently for Harry to enter her. To fill her to the brim and make her legs shake.

She could slowly feel him ease inside, a slight sting rushing through her from the first initial pressure, but as soon as he was buried inside her completely, she let out a loud moan. It felt good to have him stretch her out again. His hand moved over the small of her back and up her spine, pushing her further down into the pillows as he slowly started thrusting into her.

Her groans were drowned out by the pillow at first, but when he picked up his pace, loud moans slipped past her lips. His name fell off them as well, filing the room with a low groan from Harry as well.

His fingers dug into her hips as he thrusted harder into her. He leaned forward, getting closer to her ear.

“I want to hear you, Y/N.”

Harry almost pulled out completely of her, just to thrust hard into her again. His hand moved over her back until he took a hold of her hair and pulled on it as he continued to thrust into her.

Her legs were shaking and the tension in her tummy kept building. He was moving just at the right pace, leaving her as a moaning and shaking mess underneath him. The pleasure filled her completely, from head to toe, and her shaking legs were evidence of that. She could feel him bottom out every time he thrusted back into her, her own nails clawing at the pillows.

She planted her hands on the mattress when Harry pulled her back by her hair, letting out a loud whimper in response. His dominant side felt like the icing on the cake as he continued to make her feel so good. His name left her mouth multiple times again and each one of his thrusts brought her closer to the edge.

Her hips moved back against him, desperate to get closer to the edge. Harry tugged on her hair again. The pain coursing through her just urged her on even more.

“Fuck,” she groaned as her legs began to shake. She was balancing on the very edge now, so close to letting herself fall apart. That sweet release was in reach when–

Harry stopped his movements, keeping himself buried deep inside her. His fingers trailed over her back, leaving goosebumps behind and shivers running down her spine. She was breathing heavily as she turned her head to look back at him. There was a mischievous smirk on his face again. It was incredibly hot when he was edging her, when he showed her who was in command, but she was now desperate for her own release, to feel that wave of pleasure finally come over her.

“Harry, please, I need to-”

“What do you need, darling?” He leaned forward, brushing some of her hair away to place a kiss on her shoulder blade. “Tell me.” His voice was raspy and she knew he was holding back his own release. This would be the final time he was dragging it out and it was definitely time for them both to get what they wanted.

“I need to come, Harry. Please.”

He let out a soft moan at her words. Begging for her release was turning her on as well, biting her lip as she started to move her hips back against him in an attempt to get closer to what she wanted.

Harry couldn’t wait any longer either.

“Good girl.”

His left hand went back to her hip as he picked up his pace once more. His thrusts were fast and ruthless, his groans filling the room while the sound of skin slapping together echoed with it. Every time she could feel him deep inside her, it brought her a bit closer to her release.

Harry’s right hand wandered over her thigh to her hip, but then continued on to her stomach, eventually sliding down to find her clit. His fingers started to run over it in circles.

She was a whimpering mess underneath him as all those sensations filled her body. The heat in her body was rising, her knuckles turned white as she held on to the soft fabric of the pillows, the tension in her tummy reaching its high until Harry gave ever one final thrust, fingers flicking over her clit as he finally pushed her over the edge.

Her orgasm came in waves, making her entire body shiver and her pussy clench around his cock. It was enough to throw Harry over the edge as well. He didn’t hide his moans as his dick started to pulse inside her, painting her walls white.

The pleasure was still coursing through her. She dropped face forward into the pillows, letting out a long sigh as she pressed her legs together ever so slowly. Harry pulled out of her, leaving the cum trickling down her legs as she was catching her breath.

A low chuckle sounded behind her before her husband laid down next to her. His fingers brushed through her messed up hair as he admired the red on her cheeks and the dazed look in her eyes.

“Missed me?”

“I think so.”

Harry leaned forward to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. “Maybe I should run you a bath,” he suggested, thumb brushing over her cheek.

“That sounds wonderful,” she replied with a smile.

And as Harry got up from their shared bed, Y/N wished he would never have to leave again.

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styleswithaseaview · 3 months

Text

sometimes babygirl is an (almost) 30 year old man

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #one direction #love on tour #hslot #harry styles aesthetic #fine line #harry’s house #hs.png

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jelyrvia · 5 months

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Will never get tired of drawing Louis<3

#louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson fanart #faith in the future #fitf #fitf world tour #one direction #one direction fanart #digital art

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ijustmissyouraccenths · 2 days

Text

The Alchemy

AU where Harry is the star quarterback at his college and y/n is an English major.

Based very loosely off The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

CW: Smut

Word Count: 6,871

Leaving my family to go to University was a bittersweet decision. My heart tugged at the thought of being away from them, but my passion for mastering the art of English pulled me towards my dream. My family had always been my biggest supporters and I wanted to make them proud by becoming an English professor. This meant leaving behind my comfortable life in a small suburban town in Florida to study abroad at one of the most prestigious universities. The campus was nestled in the very heart of where literary greats had once roamed and created their masterpieces. It was as if the walls exuded inspiration and creativity, urging me to chase after my dreams with even more fervor. Though I missed my family dearly, I knew that this journey would lead me to become the best version of myself and honor their unwavering support and love.

It was a whirlwind of experiences as I made my way through the unfamiliar streets. The currency conversion was a constant challenge, with every transaction feeling like a game of guesswork. And then there was the driving - on the opposite side of the road no less - which required all of my concentration to avoid any mishaps. But perhaps most daunting of all was the non-stop partying at pubs, a culture shock for someone like me who had grown up in a small town in America.

Thankfully, I was able to find a flat that was within walking distance from the school, and even luckier to have another American girl as my roommate. Mia was a sweet, bubbly girl from the middle of nowhere Kansas, embracing every aspect of British culture including the pub scene and the charming local lads.

Living with Mia meant constantly having people over, and it seemed like every night brought new faces into our home. I didn't mind too much, mostly enjoying the lively atmosphere and meeting new people. However, there were definitely some moments that tested my patience, like when one of Mia's friends named Arthur ended up getting sick and leaving his mark in our kitchen. Despite these occasional hiccups, I was grateful for this experience abroad and all the unique encounters it brought my way.

Though Mia's social butterfly nature could be trying at times, I appreciated her warm companionship in this foreign place. It was on one such night, after we had cleaned up the remnants of Arthur's ill-fated escapades, that we found ourselves cozied up with mugs of tea and watching the rain patter against the windows.

Mia was unusually pensive as she stared out into the drizzly Manchester night. "You know," she began softly, "sometimes I wonder if I'm chasing the wrong dreams. My parents wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, something stereotypically successful, but I just wanted adventure. Now here I am, living it up in England, but it all feels...empty, like I'm still searching for meaning."

I nodded thoughtfully, sensing the vulnerability in her words. Though Mia put on a bubbly facade, there was more depth to her than met the eye.

"I think the great thing about being here is that we have time to figure it all out," I offered gently. "We're writing our own stories, not just following someone else's script."

Mia smiled, some of the spark returning to her eyes. "You're right. That's exactly why I love being here with you."

As the rain continued to drum against the windows, Mia and I sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Mia turned to me with a curious expression.

"Do you ever have doubts about your dreams, too?" Mia asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

I considered her question for a moment before responding, "All the time. Sometimes I wonder if I'm on the right path or if I'm just going through the motions."

Mia nodded understandingly, her eyes reflecting the shimmer of uncertainty. "It's scary, isn't it? The idea that we might wake up one day and realize we've been chasing a dream all along."

I placed a comforting hand on Mia's shoulder. "It is scary, but it's also part of the journey. We're allowed to question and evolve along the way."

She smiled weakly, her gaze drifting back to the rain-splattered window. "I guess that's what makes life interesting, right? The uncertainty of it all."

Our conversation was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. Mia got up to answer it, revealing a group of our friends who had decided to brave the rainy night for an impromptu gathering.

"Come in, come in!" Mia exclaimed cheerfully, ushering everyone inside. The room quickly filled with laughter and chatter as our friends settled in.

As I looked around the group, my eyes landed on a few familiar faces who have crossed paths with me several times before. Among them was Arthur, a friendly face that always brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. As everyone piled into the room, my gaze wandered to him - Harry Styles, the renowned quarterback of our school's football team. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement at being in the presence of such a well-known athlete. When I first arrived from the United States, I had assumed the term "football" referred to what we call soccer back home. But as I soon discovered, American Football was just as beloved and popular in the UK.

Harry noticed me looking his way and met my gaze. There was an intensity in his green eyes that made me quickly avert my own, focusing instead on my friend Grace who was animatedly sharing a story next to me.

I tried to tune into her words, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the handsome footballer across the room. By all accounts, Harry was cocky, brash, and a bit of a player. And yet, I couldn't deny there was something magnetic about him. He carried himself with a self-assured swagger, his athletic frame filling out his clothes in a way that betrayed his strength.

I scolded myself internally. Just because he's nice to look at doesn't change the fact that he seems like an arrogant jock. Still, when our eyes met again, I felt a flutter in my stomach I couldn't ignore.

Harry said something to his friend that made the group erupt into laughter. He flashed a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I quickly looked away once more, but the image of his smile lingered in my mind.

Get it together, I told myself sternly. Harry is off-limits. With his reputation, getting involved would only lead to trouble. I turned my focus back to Grace, pushing all thoughts of Harry's eyes, smile and broad shoulders out of my head.

For the rest of the night, I avoided looking in Harry's direction, though I could feel his gaze on me periodically as the hours wore on. By the time people started trickling out, I felt certain I had avoided any direct interaction with the dashing footballer.

That is, until I went to lock the door behind the last guest and found him standing there. He flashed that crooked smile again as he leaned against the door frame. "See you around, Y/N," he said, holding my gaze for a moment before disappearing into the night. I stood frozen, my heart racing as I replayed those five simple words in my head.

As I stood there in shock at Harry's unexpected presence, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me. His parting words echoed in my mind, leaving me slightly breathless and unsure of what to make of the situation. Gathering my composure, I locked the door behind him and turned to find Mia watching me with a knowing smile.

"Looks like someone caught your eye, Y/N," Mia teased, nudging me playfully. "Harry Styles, huh? Quite the charmer."

I flushed slightly at her comment, trying to brush off any implications. "Oh, come on, Mia. It's not like that," I deflected, hoping to downplay the significance of the moment.

But Mia wasn't convinced. "Sure, sure," she replied with a wink. "Just remember, not all that glitters is gold."

Her words lingered in my mind as I bid her goodnight and retreated to my room. Sitting on my bed, I couldn't shake off the image of Harry's smile or the way he had looked at me in that brief moment by the door. The conflicting thoughts swirled in my head, leaving me restless and contemplative.

The following day at school, as I made my way through the bustling halls, I noticed a familiar figure leaning against the lockers up ahead. It was Harry, his usual confident demeanor on full display as he chatted with his friends. As our eyes met briefly, he flashed a grin in my direction before turning back to his conversation.

Feeling a surge of boldness, I approached him tentatively. "Hey, Harry," I greeted him, trying to keep my tone casual despite the flutter in my stomach.

"Hey there, Y/N," he responded with a smirk, his green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Didn't think you'd show up here again so soon."

I felt my cheeks flush at his words. Clearly he was referring to my abrupt exit last night after our brief encounter at the door. I scrambled to think of a clever response.

"Well, we do go to the same school," I pointed out, trying to keep my voice light despite the nerves I felt.

Harry chuckled, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he regarded me with amusement.

"True enough," he conceded. "But I got the sense you were trying to avoid me last night. Did I make you nervous?"

His bluntness took me aback. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Harry's eyes danced with mirth at my flustered state.

"Cat got your tongue?" He teased.

I took a steadying breath, determined not to let him get the best of me. "You wish," I retorted, hoping the bravado in my voice sounded more convincing than I felt.

Harry laughed, a rich warm sound that made my knees weak. Our eyes locked and in that moment, it was like the noisy hallway melted away and there was only the two of us.

"Feisty. I like it," he murmured. Before I could respond, the warning bell rang, snapping us both back to reality.

"See you around, Y/N," Harry said with a wink before disappearing into the swarm of students heading to class.

My body froze in place, heart thudding against my ribs as I gazed at the infamous Harry. He exuded an undeniable air of trouble, and yet, as our charged banter replayed in my mind, I couldn't deny the adrenaline pumping through my veins. With a determined stride, I made my way to class, refusing to let this boy be the cause of my tardiness.

I took a seat in my Studies of Shakespeare class, the one subject I truly loved. The works of William Shakespeare never failed to captivate me, and if you could understand the Elizabethan lingo, his witty humor shone through brilliantly. Unfortunately, this particular teacher seemed to have a talent for draining all the life and humor out of these masterpieces.

I tried to focus as the professor droned on about the themes in Romeo and Juliet, but my mind kept wandering back to my encounter with Harry. Something about our charged banter had awakened feelings in me that I didn't quite understand.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a folded piece of paper land on my desk as if taken out of a scene from a movie. I looked around furtively before opening it. In an unfamiliar scrawling handwriting it read:

"What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." - H

I felt a thrill run through me and quickly tucked the note into my bag before the professor could notice. So Harry was in this class too? I scanned the room subtly until I spotted him a few rows behind me. He caught my eye and gave me a roguish wink.

I turned back to the front, trying to ignore the simmering exhilaration I felt. Over the next few days, the notes kept coming during Shakespeare class, each with a quote or two from the Bard himself. They were usually cheeky and flirtatious, hinting at some blossoming rapport between us.

I found myself anticipating each one, my heart skipping a beat when I would spot a new folded note on my desk. Our eyes would meet across the room, a hidden smile just between us.

After class one day, as I gathered my things, I sensed Harry approach my desk. "So when's our study session?" he asked nonchalantly, though there was a glint of something more in his eyes. I hesitated, knowing I should keep my distance, yet unable to deny I was intrigued.

I nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, I don't know... I've heard you're not the most dedicated studier," I teased, giving him a playful smile.

Harry chuckled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong. I may not look like it, but I'm quite the Shakespeare aficionado," he replied with a grin.

I raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Is that so? Well, I suppose we could arrange a study session... if you can prove your expertise," I challenged, a hint of challenge in my tone.

His grin widened, accepting the challenge. "Consider it done. How about we meet at the library tomorrow after school?" Harry suggested, his gaze unwavering.

I hesitated for a moment, the thrill of anticipation coursing through me. "Alright, it's a date then," I agreed, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Harry flashed me one last grin before disappearing into the bustling hallway. My heart raced with both nervousness and exhilaration as I packed up my belongings, eager for our upcoming study session.

The following day at the library, I found myself anxiously scanning the room for Harry. My pulse quickened when I spotted him sitting at a table in the corner, a stack of Shakespearean plays spread out in front of him.

I made my way over to him, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside me. "Ready to impress me with your Shakespeare knowledge?" I asked with a teasing smile as I took a seat across from him.

Harry flashed me a charming grin. "Just watch and learn," he said confidently, picking up a copy of Romeo and Juliet and flipping to a random page.

As he began to recite lines from the play with passion and flair, I couldn't help but be captivated by his enthusiasm. His eyes lit up as he delved into each line, bringing the centuries-old words to life in a way that was both mesmerizing and captivating.

By the time our study session ended, I found myself completely enthralled by Harry's interpretation of Shakespeare's works. As we gathered our things to leave, he turned to me with a twinkle in his eye, he knew a lot more about the works than he let on to.

Harry turned to me, “So now that I’ve shown you i’m smart, I know Shakespeare, when are you coming to one of my games?” he asked confidently.

I was taken aback by his forward invitation. Attending one of his football games felt intimate in a way that made me nervous.

"Oh, um, I don't know..." I fumbled over my words, suddenly feeling shy.

Harry tilted his head, giving me a crooked smile. "Come on, it'll be fun. I'll even give you a personal tour of the field afterwards," he joked.

I bit my lip, considering it. There was no denying I felt drawn to him, despite trying to keep my distance. And the thought of seeing him command the field sent a little thrill through me.

"Alright, I suppose I could stop by," I finally conceded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear self-consciously.

Harry's face lit up. "Brilliant! Our next game is on Friday. I'll leave a ticket for you at will call," he said eagerly.

I nodded, butterflies taking flight in my stomach. "Okay, yeah. I’ll see you then," I replied softly.

Harry gave me a dazzling smile and I felt my knees go weak.

Friday night arrived and I found myself filled with nervous excitement as I made my way to the football stadium. I couldn't believe I had actually agreed to come watch Harry play. As I approached the ticket booth, I gave my name and they handed me the ticket Harry had left for me.

I found my seat in the packed bleachers and waited anxiously for the game to start. When the players rushed onto the field, I immediately spotted Harry's mop of curly hair. He looked focused and determined as he took his position on the field.

As the game began, I was immediately drawn in by Harry's commanding presence on the field. His movements were fluid and precise, each pass and dodge executed with passion and skill. With each successful play, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, mirroring my own excitement. It was impossible not to join in, jumping to my feet and cheering for Harry along with everyone else.

At halftime, Harry made his way over to the sidelines, sweat glistening on his forehead and tattooed arms, his chest heaving from exertion. As he scanned the crowd for familiar faces, his eyes locked onto mine and a wide grin spread across his face. He waved enthusiastically, causing my cheeks to flush as I shyly waved back in return.

In the second half of the game, Harry's presence seemed to radiate even more brightly. With each touchdown he scored, his fists pumped triumphantly in the air. The crowd roared and cheered as he ripped off his helmet and hoisted it victoriously above his head, his teammates swarming around him in celebration.

As the stadium emptied out, I stayed behind with a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I couldn't wait to see Harry once again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the locker room, his hair still damp from his post-game shower but his eyes shining with joy.

"So, what did you think?" he asked eagerly as he approached me.

"You were truly spectacular out there," I gushed earnestly. A wide grin stretched across Harry's face.

"Come on, let me give you that promised tour," he said playfully, offering me his arm. Laughing, I happily took it and followed him onto the empty field, my heart racing with excitement and admiration for the amazing athlete by my side.

Harry led me onto the empty stadium field, the night air crisp and cool against our skin. He pointed out spots on the grass where pivotal plays had happened, describing them with a passion that revealed his deep love for the game.

I found myself enthralled, leaning into him as we walked, his arm solid and warm beneath my hand. When we reached the middle of the field, he turned to face me. His eyes were soft, searching my face in the dim glow of the stadium lights.

"You know, I was afraid you wouldn't come tonight," he admitted quietly.

I tilted my head. "Why's that?"

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "You never seemed to like me much before. I figured I wasn't your type."

Heat rose to my cheeks. He wasn't wrong - I'd unfairly judged him as arrogant and cocky. But tonight had shattered those assumptions.

"I guess I realized there's more to you than meets the eye," I said softly.

Harry's smile widened. He lifted his hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath caught at his touch. Slowly, he leaned in. I let my eyes fall shut in anticipation...

But suddenly, the stadium lights flickered off, plunging us into darkness. We jumped apart in surprise.

Harry laughed. "Guess that's our cue to head out."

He took my hand, interlacing our fingers, and led me towards the parking lot. I walked close beside him, hyper-aware of his palm pressed against mine.

As he towered over me, Harry's eyes scanned the street, searching for a car. "Where did you park?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth.

I shifted nervously on my feet, avoiding eye contact. "Oh. Uh. I didn't drive. I just live around the street," I murmured, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The thought of navigating English roads was terrifying to me.

A warm chuckle escaped from Harry's lips as he looked back down at me. "I can drive you home, love," he offered, extending a hand towards me. His scent wafted towards me - a mix of cologne and something woodsy - and I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my stomach at his closeness.

As Harry and I walked towards his car, our hands still entwined, I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation build within me. "So, tell me more about this amazing game-winning touchdown," I teased, trying to break the silence that had fallen between us.

Harry laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced at me sideways. "Oh, you mean the one where I body-slammed the other team's runner into oblivion?" He pretended to flex his muscles playfully. "That was pretty epic, if I do say so myself."

I shook my head, feigning disbelief. "You're such a show-off," I said with a grin. "I bet you were the star of the school playground too."

Harry snorted. "Hardly. I was more of a loner growing up. Spent most of my time with my nose buried in books."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And here I thought all jocks were brain-dead."

He laughed again, his laughter echoing through the empty streets as we walked towards his car. When we finally reached it, Harry unlocked the door and gestured for me to get inside. As I slid into the passenger seat, I couldn't help but notice how perfectly he filled the driver's seat - broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips and long legs. The image of him all sweaty and wet from a shower flashed through my mind, making my cheeks heat up again.

"So," Harry began as he started the engine and pulled out onto the road, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, "tell me more about yourself."

I felt myself blush even harder at his directness but decided to play along. "Well," I said slowly, thinking quickly. "I'm a huge bookworm too - Harry Potter is probably my favorite series ever."

Harry chuckled softly as he glanced at me briefly before looking back at the road. "I can see why you fit right in here in England then."

We drove through the quiet streets in companionable silence for a while before Harry spoke up again. "You know, you don't have to act all tough around me," he said quietly, his eyes still on the road as he slowed down at a stoplight.

I turned to face him fully now, surprised by his words. "I wasn't trying to be tough," I said defensively. "I just didn't want you to think that... well, never mind what I didn't want you to think," I muttered under my breath.

Harry's face softened into a gentle smile as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear once again - a gesture that sent shivers down my spine despite the warmth of the car interior. "It's okay," he murmured soothingly as he took my hand in his once more and squeezed gently before letting go when the light turned green again.

The rest of our drive was filled with more easy conversation punctuated by moments of awkward silence broken only by the sounds of our breathing and occasional traffic noises outside. When we finally pulled up outside my house I found myself hesitating before opening the car door knowing that this was goodbye.

Under the dim glow of the street lamp, I tentatively turned to face Harry. "Thanks for...for tonight," I stammered out, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze.

His emerald eyes twinkled mysteriously as he simply nodded and began unbuckling his seatbelt. His eyes never left mine, setting off a simmering warmth between us that was hard to ignore.

"I should probably walk you to your door," he said softly, accentuating each word with an inexplicably seductive lilt. My heart pounded in my chest as we exited the car and made our way towards my apartment.

Once at the front door, we stood facing each other in silence, the air around us thick with unspoken words and desires. I felt his strong fingers gently cradle my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. The intensity of this simple touch sent sparks racing down my spine, pooling heat in places I hadn't even known existed.

"Can I come inside?" His voice was barely a whisper but it echoed loudly in my ears.

My mind screamed caution but my body had other plans. “Yes,” I breathed out, unlocking the door and pulling him inside.

Inside, Harry's lips found mine in a searing kiss that left me breathless. His tongue teased against mine, creating a warm and delicious friction that sent shivers down my legs. As he pressed his hips against me, I could feel the unmistakable hardness growing between us. Our hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, exploring new territory and seeking pleasure through every touch.

Harry's fingers made their way to the waistband of my skirt, pulling it down over my hips and letting it fall to the ground. He lifted me up onto the edge of a nearby table, spreading my legs slightly as he stood between them. The feel of his fingers brushing against my inner thigh caused me to gasp and arch my back in anticipation.

Harry pulled back abruptly,“I’m sorry,” He started, “that was really inappropriate.”

As Harry apologized, his eyes were drawn to the hint of my arousal peeking out from between my legs. His hesitation vanished as his fingers brushed against my wetness once more, this time without pulling away. He groaned in approval and leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine once more. I craved him in the worst ways.

Our tongues tangled as he pushed me back onto the table, spreading my legs further apart. His hands found their way under my shirt, skimming over my stomach before lifting it up, exposing my bra-clad breasts. He took a deep breath, inhaling my scent and trailing his fingers lightly across one tight nipple.

"Harry," I moaned, cavinginto his touch. "Please don't stop."

He smirked wickedly down at me before pulling back slightly. In one swift motion, he yanked my shirt over my head, tossing it aside carelessly. Grabbing hold of both sides of my bra, he pulled it down too with such force that my breasts were freed from their confinement.

I gasped at the sudden rush of air hitting my sensitive nipples but before I could catch my breath, he took one of them into his mouth sucking hard while pinching the other between two fingers, teasing it mercilessly.

"Fuck," I whimpered, clawing at the table underneath me as pleasure coursed through me like lightning. The intense mix of pain and pleasure sent waves of desire crashing over me as I felt myself becoming wetter with every passing second.

Sliding one hand down towards his pants, I slowly undid the button and zipper before slipping my hand inside his boxers to grip him firmly around his growing erection. He groaned into my breast at the contact sending shivers down my spine.

"You want me to fuck you?" he whispered hoarsely against my skin leaving a trail of saliva along my collarbone as he ran his tongue upwards caressingly .

"Yes," I breathed out between parted lips unable to form complete words due to the intensity of emotions running through me.

My heart raced as his erection throbbed in my hand. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, mixed with the desire that seemed to emanate from him. His other hand slid down my back, over my ass cheeks, and gripped them roughly, pulling me closer against his hardness.

"Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are? You and your little shy good girl act" he growled into my neck, nipping at the skin there softly. With one swift movement, he lifted me up onto the countertop, pushing my legs apart with his hips. His mouth trailed kisses along my jawline, down my throat, and on my breasts.

I arched my back slightly offering myself to him more fully as he took a hungry mouthful of one of my nipples into his mouth sucking on it hard while pinching the other between his fingers causing a sharp intake of breath from me which made him smile devilishly before moving on to devour the other one.

My body trembled with anticipation as he bit my neck playfully, his rough hands sliding over my hips and ass cheeks before pulling me against him. His cock twitched against my wet core, making me whimper in want. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and husky. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"Harry," I moaned, my voice reduced to a desperate whimper as he continued teasing me with his words and touches. "Please..."

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with our ragged breathing and the occasional moan. I could feel myself getting lost in the sensations, my body responding eagerly to his movements. His hands were everywhere, tracing over my curves and gripping me tightly as he pounded into me.

My own hands were roaming his back, digging into his flesh as I tried to hold on to something amidst the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through me. Every inch of my body felt on fire, and I couldn't get enough.

"Fuck," he grunted, his face contorting with pleasure. "You feel so good."

I whimpered in response, unable to form any coherent words as he continued to move inside me relentlessly. My whole world had narrowed down to this moment – his body against mine, the sound of our bodies coming together in a perfect rhythm.

My mind was blissfully blank as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming rougher and more urgent. I could feel my climax building up within me, like a fire threatening to consume me whole.

And then it hit me like a tidal wave – intense and all-consuming. My back arched off the counter as I cried out his name, my body trembling with pleasure as every nerve ending exploded with ecstasy.

He followed soon after, letting out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside me. We stayed still for a moment, trying to catch our breaths and bask in the aftermath of our passion.

But eventually reality came crashing back around us. Panic started creeping up inside me as I tried to gather my thoughts and make sense of what had just happened.

As I lay there, my heart still pounding in my chest, he gently pulled out of me and straightened up. His eyes, dark with desire just moments ago, now softened with a mixture of tenderness and regret.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of our heavy breathing. "I shouldn't have let things go this far."

I sat up slowly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me – confusion, guilt, and a lingering sense of pleasure that refused to dissipate.

"It's not just your fault," I murmured, avoiding his gaze as I tried to gather my clothes around me. "I wanted this too."

He reached out a hand to touch my arm, but hesitated before making contact.

"We should talk about this," he said finally, his tone serious. "About what it means for us."

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words settling between us. What had started as a moment of passion had now morphed into something more complicated, something that demanded attention and discussion.

As we dressed in silence, the air in the room felt charged with unspoken thoughts and emotions. The intensity of our physical connection lingered like a ghost between us, refusing to be ignored.

We began to gather our clothes from around the room, now tainted with the evidence of our reckless choices. Harry buried his face into his shirt before pulling it on, perhaps ruminating on what just occurred, or maybe trying to drown out the reality with the lingering scent of his cologne.

"Y/n," he started after a long silence, pulling his trousers up. His voice sounded strained, an indication that he was struggling with the right choice of words. "I... I didn't mean for this to... I mean, I like spending time with you." He sighed heavily, rubbing his face between his large palms.

I remained silent as I fastened my bra. The finality in his voice was suffocating, making it harder for me to breathe with each passing moment. I felt my heart thumping loudly in my chest – a crude reminder of the complication we had willingly dived into.

"I like you, Y/N," he said finally, his voice a hoarse whisper. The words hung in the air between us, hovering like a dense fog, obscuring any clarity that might lie beyond.

I stopped fumbling with my blouse, my fingers stilled by his confession. "Harry," I began, my voice barely audible. Fear clung to me, making my words tremble.

"I know," he cut me off before I could finish what I started. "I know we're both in different places... Me with football and you with your studies." There was a tingling silence after his statement, as if he was waiting for me to confirm or deny his declaration.

I sighed heavily, tugging at the hem of my blouse, feeling the cool fabric against my still heated skin. "It's not that simple Harry," I admitted, blinking back tears that had started to sting my eyes. "This," I motioned around the room, encompassing our discarded underwear strewn haphazardly around the room - a silent testament to the passion that had just consumed us, "this complicates things."

He ran his hand through his tousled hair and nodded solemnly. "I understand," he replied, a hint of resignation etching lines onto his face. His gaze was heavy with something akin to regret as it met mine.

My breath hitched in my throat at the intensity of his stare. I wanted desperately to reach out and ease the burden that seemed to weigh heavily on him. But reality was an insidious shadow that lurked in our midst, reminding us of the impracticality of our desires.

"I think it's better if we keep our distance for now," Harry broke the silence after what felt like an eternity. His words were like cold water dousing the fire that our bodies had kindled only moments ago.

A feeling of sudden emptiness clawed at me. His words, though probably said in goodwill, felt like a punch to my gut. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

I nodded, unable to bring myself to utter a word. He stepped towards me and for a moment I thought he would pull me into his arms one last time. But he merely extended a hand that I shook lightly, the gesture felt impersonal after the intimacy we had just shared.

Without another word, he turned and left the room. I stood still in the silence that followed, the sound of his departing footsteps echoing in my ears long after he was gone.

Mia came home later that night, oblivious to the charged atmosphere that still lingered, suffocating and heavy in the air. Her chatter about an extra credit assignment she’d completed was a stark contrast to the silence that had enveloped the room just hours ago.

“Y/N, are you okay?” she asked suddenly, noticing my distant gaze. I gave her a weak smile in response before excusing myself to bed.

As I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Harry's words echoed through my mind. "I think it's better if we keep our distance for now." His voice was etched into my memory, roughened by regret and something else I couldn't quite place. His face bore an expression that told me this was as hard for him as it was for me.

The next day was a blur. My classes seemed trivial compared to the turmoil swirling in my mind. My interactions with others were mechanical and flat as if I was watching myself from outside my body.

Football practice was going on when I walked past the field on my way back from the campus library. My eyes instinctively sought out Harry among the sea of players. I found him focused on his game, every muscle in his body straining as he kicked the ball towards the goalpost.

His world seemed unchanged—still revolving around football—while mine felt like it had been knocked off its axis.

The following weeks were no easier. Everywhere I went, I could feel his presence like a phantom pain - a dull ache that refused to fade away. In every conversation, every song playing in the background, every corner of campus - Harry was there.

I knew we had made a rational decision, given our circumstances. But my heart couldn't comprehend what my mind had already accepted.

Months passed and winter set in, blanketing Manchester in white. Serene and beautiful yet so melancholy it mirrored my mood perfectly. The once familiar campus looked different under the soft glow of the snow as if to mirror the change that had occurred in my life.

One evening, as I was walking back from the library, I spotted Harry sitting alone on a bench, bundled up in a thick coat, his breath misting in the frigid air. His eyes were trained on the football field, currently blanketed by snow, and his hands were tucked into his pockets, his usual energy replaced by a pensive quietness.

I hesitated, weighing my options. We hadn't spoken since that night – the night when our worlds collided and then abruptly fell apart. But something drew me towards him – an inexplicable magnetism I had been fighting for so long.

Stepping tentatively closer, I cleared my throat to announce my presence. "Harry," I said softly, trying not to startle him.

He looked up at the sound of my voice, surprise flickering across his features before they settled into guarded neutrality. "Y/N," he responded with a curt nod, but made no move to invite me to sit.

Taking a leap of faith, I lowered myself onto the bench next to him, maintaining some distance while also bracing for the icy cold through my jeans. For several minutes we sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts as we stared out at the snowy field.

"I've missed you." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

He turned toward me then, his emerald eyes soft and searching as they met mine. His lips opened as if to say something but closed again as if reconsidering his words.

"Y/N..." His voice trailed off and there was a long pause before he continued. "I’ve missed you too."

Relief washed over me at his confession but it was quickly replaced with a gnawing sadness as I realized that missing each other wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between us. Our realities were still the same - he was still the star football player with ambitions bigger than Manchester itself and I was still an English major trying to carve out a place for myself in academia.

“Do you ever think about…?” I started, swallowing hard as I tried to voice the question that had been eating at me.

“Us?” He completed my sentence, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze was heavy but he held it steady, openly showing the vulnerability he usually kept hidden beneath his star athlete facade. “All the time.”

The honesty in his confession hit me harder than I expected. We were both stuck in our respective worlds, looking at each other from afar but never truly reaching out.

I took a deep breath, feeling the biting winter air fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. “We can’t keep doing this, Harry,” I said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

He looked at me then, his gaze filled with understanding and something else I couldn't quite place. “I know,” he replied softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

The future was uncertain and full of challenges. But if there was one thing I had learnt from this whole ordeal, it was that some chances are worth taking. No matter how daunting they may seem.

213 notes · View notes

shawnxstyles · 1 year

Text

stupid

DATE: MARCH 27, 2023

summary: as a challenge, you try to get yourself out of handcuffs. eventually, you find yourself unsuccessful, leaving you confined to your bed. when your roommate harry sees your predicament, he can’t help but be a little turned on, especially when he notices that you are too.

song: invisible string- taylor swift

words: 5.8k

warnings: SMUT (f-receiving [fingering, bondage {handcuffs}], m-receiving [masturbation], praise kink, unprotected sex [coming inside], dirty talk), some pining, and language

note: a cheesy ass storyline but it still has me in a chokehold. also, i’m posting this at 3 am :D (sorry if the gif is all weird)

fratrry x college!reader (my favorite pairing 🤭)

—

“Oh, fuck me.”

It was stupid—you were so stupid.

Your heart falls in a panic as you thrash around on your bed, trying to break the cuffs surrounding your wrists.

You got caught up in a video. Some stupid video you scrolled to on the internet that explained how to escape handcuffs in an emergency. With a Bobby pin. You watched the full thing out of curiosity and boredom, but then decided to try it.

Because why the hell not, right?

Who the hell has a Bobby pin in an emergency? You didn’t think about this part until after you were stuck.

You rummaged through your messy closet, searching for the cuffs. Luckily, you were a bit of a hoarder and kept mainly everything you bought. One year for Halloween you were a cop (basic, but cute), so of course you had handcuffs when you bought the outfit.

Huh, they’re way nicer than you remember.

Snatching the handcuffs, you sat back on your bed and rewatched the video again. The demonstrator was handcuffed to the leg of a table while the instructor showed the camera and directed the viewers. Once you felt confident enough, you were going to attempt it.

At this moment, you didn’t think twice about how stupid it might be.

You looked around your room for somewhere to practice. You didn’t want to use the table in the small dining room because it was crowded with stuff on it. Plus, you didn’t want your roommate, Harry, to walk through the door and see you doing another stupid thing you found on the internet.

The amount of times he’s caught you doing something strange is ridiculous. To anyone else, it would be embarrassing. But Harry is your best friend, who is able to keep up with your madness, and who you might maybe have a crush on. Okay fine, it was a big, fat, stupid crush.

90% of the time your internet attempts were some type of trick that ends in something breaking.

But this—this has got to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever attempted.

Your eyes circled around the entire room before you landed on your bedpost.

Stable. Unmoving. Bingo.

Reaching up and turning your head, you locked one of the cuffs to your wrist. Then you grab the small pin in the other hand. You loop the chain around the pole and cuff that hand. Facing the locked cuffs, you cramp your hand in a certain way that allows you to ram the pin into the lock hole. You twist it easily and free yourself from the cuffs.

You smirk to yourself at how easy it was. You decide to do it another time. And then another. You got confident with the movements, so you switched the pin to your non-dominant hand. It was slightly trickier, but you were still able to release yourself.

Knowing yourself, you wouldn’t stop until the challenge became a real challenge. So you decided to make it a little harder.

You made sure your body was facing forward, away from the post, before looping the chain around the wooden pole. You clicked the cuff on your left wrist, locking you to the post.

Now, you would try to unlock the cuffs blindly.

With the pin in your dominant hand, you try to maneuver it so it can reach the lock opening. You feel around with your fingers as much as they allow, trying to picture where the hole is. Thinking you felt it, you confidently jam the pin into it before twisting it.

However, your confidence failed you because you were too cocky. The pin slides through one of the chain links that you mistook for the lock hole and slips from your fingers. You let out a small gasp as it does, realizing what position you’ve gotten yourself into this time.

“Oh, fuck me.”

It was stupid—you were so stupid.

Your heart falls in a panic as you thrash around on your bed, trying to break the cuffs surrounding your wrists. Your eyes dodge around the room, trying to think of a solution. You notice the key to the cuffs lying tantalizingly on the bed. It was way too close for you to reach it with your foot, and you obviously couldn’t bend your head down to grab it.

There was only one thing you would do; wait for Harry to come home.

—

Harry presses a button on the treadmill, slowing down the conveyor belt beneath him. He huffs and puffs, trying to catch his breath. Even though he feels like he’s killing himself at the gym sometimes, he can’t help but love the feeling afterwards. That post-workout sensation that motivates him to get up and walk in the gym the next day. It was addicting to say the least.

As he steps off the treadmill, his phone begins to buzz. He looks down at the contact, feeling his heart buzz similarly at the name. He slips his finger across the glass, answering your FaceTime call.

“What’s up?” Harry answers the phone, holding it up so you could see his sweaty face while he stares at your ceiling. He packs up his bag and heads towards the locker rooms.

“I need help,” You shout, loudly enough so Harry could hear you from the phone, which was at the end of the bed. You had finally used some cells in your brain to use Siri to FaceTime him. Harry scrunches his eyebrows and stands stucksill in the middle of the locker room. Without hesitation, he starts to head for the exit of the building, thinking you’re in some type of life-threatening emergency.

“What? Are you okay?” Harry speaks anxiously as he reaches his car and turns the engine on.

“I’m fine! I’m fine! I just need you to…help me out,” You reassure hastingly with a grunt, continuing to thrash around as if that’s going to work.

It hasn’t for the past half hour.

Harry’s heart calms down a few beats, since your life clearly isn’t threatened. He hears the clanging of the metal to the wood.

“What’s that noise?” He questions, scrunching his nose.

“It’s, um, me,” You squeak vaguely. It was so embarrassing that the words couldn’t even leave your mouth without a cringe rolling through your body.

In a flashing moment, the pieces finally clicked in Harry’s head.

“You did another challenge again, didn’t you?” You stayed silent, too stubborn to admit that he was right and that you were stupid. He knew you well enough to know that your silence meant he was right, so he scoffed and groaned before hanging up the phone.

After parking in his usual spot, he grabs his gym bag and heads for your shared apartment. He trudges up the stairs, his legs brutally sore after today. Harry fumbles with the keys until he unlocks the door. When he walks in, he instantly hears you shouting his name in relief.

“Harry! Oh my god!” Harry knew it was wrong to be thinking the way he was thinking, but he couldn’t help it.

He imagined those words as moans spewing from your mouth as you lie underneath him. He envisioned fucking you deep and slow so you’d feel every inch of him. If he lingered on the idea long enough, he could imagine the depth of your cunt as he sinks into it, all wet and snug around his cock. Your hands would pull on his hair as he said the most sinful things to you. Some nights he had to conjure this type of fantasy to relieve himself, and he felt selfish every time.

He couldn’t believe that he was turned on simply from your voice.

God, he wanted you so bad.

Throwing his gym bag on the messy table, he heads for your room and discards his thoughts. The door is wide open, and before he even gets inside, he’s facing your predicament.

Your arms are raised above your head while your wrists remain trapped in metal confinements. Your body was slumped, probably tired from trying to escape. Your chest rises up and down in frustration. He could sense the irritation radiating off of you. It was laughable. Very, very laughable.

But his mind wandered back to his thoughts from a few minutes ago when he imagined pounding into you. Now, in his new fantasy, you were cuffed to your bed. Just like you are now, you wouldn’t be able to have your hands in his hair, but he’d lower his head in between your legs this time. The thought—the sight— of you in those cuffs was about to send him in a spiral.

He was half hard.

“Fuck me,” He muttered, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply.

“Are you going to help me or just stand there and watch my misery?”

“I don’t know, I kind of like it,” Harry teased, being honest, but not in the way you probably thought.

You weren’t the type for one-night stands. But when he saw you bring home the person you were dating (at the time), some deep, unwanted feeling burned in his stomach. Harry eventually labeled the feeling as hatred; he hated everyone you brought home, no matter how nice they were in the morning aftermath. You and Harry got too close, too friendly for anything like that to be allowed.

So, he would invite girls over because he realized he couldn’t have you. And eventually that created a cycle he couldn’t break because, again, he couldn’t have you. He couldn’t break it without you. No amount of girls or any other girls made him feel the way you made him feel.

He thought whatever he was feeling for you made him weak, but it really made him stronger, better.

Now, he stood a few feet from your bed, arms crossed in amusement. He hopes that if he joked enough you wouldn’t notice the bulge growing in his gym shorts.

You felt a rush of heat creep up your neck at his words. Although he can be sweet and soft, Harry was as much of a frat boy as the rest of them. He talked women up and brought them back to his room with his panty-melting smirk. You couldn’t help but envy them every time you heard the noises they made, knowing that Harry was the one causing them. Your stupid crush and hormonal body made his words sound like some sexual innuendo, but you knew Harry wouldn’t truly have any intentions behind it.

So what if he makes flirty, teasing comments that make your stomach drop and your heart race a million miles an hour? They weren’t intentional and he does it with everyone.

“Like it? Kinky shit,” You mumbled to yourself as your neck burns up, but of course Harry wasn’t going to let that slide. He was going to have a little fun with it.

“What did you say?” Harry leaned towards you with his ear, now wandering closer to your bed. You glared at him in irritation.

“Nothing. Just open the cuffs!” You said, ignoring him without making eye contact.

“No, I don’t think I will. This is quite fun actually,” He crosses his arms and smugly smiles, teetering on his feet. He should have left by now to take care of his erection that’s pulsing in his shorts, but he’s having too much fun. This is truly one of the stupidest things you’ve done. You roll your eyes as you wriggle your wrists pathetically, attempting a lost cause. Harry laughs, clearly enjoying your misery.

“Do you get off on this or something?”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs. You don’t know why, but your heart skipped a beat and your neck continued to be aflame. The slight thought that Harry might be attracted to you, even if it was you at your mercy, caught you off guard. Slightly. “You have to admit it’s a little arousing.”

Your heart rate increases as he steps closer to you, eyes doe-y and wide as you take in the view. Every comeback or quick wit washes away from you.

“Is it?” He asks.

“Is it what?” You try to focus on the conversation, but it’s hard when his post-workout body is standing only inches away from you. In any other scenario, you would have pushed him away or brushed off his comment. But you can’t run away this time. Instead of looking at him, you stare at some spot on the floor.

“Is it arousing for you? To be all helpless and needy?” His voice is taunting. His words caused your cunt to instinctively clench, making your thighs do the same. His eyesight peered at your legs for a moment, hopefully not noticing the action.

“No,” You lied straight through your teeth. Your hands turned into fists as you dug your nails into your palms, trying to keep it together.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” No.

“I don’t like liars, Y/N,” Harry raises his eyebrows in a hurtful way and then slowly starts backing away. You shake your head in confusion as he heads for the door. “Now, I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be back.”

“Harry Edward Styles, do not leave me here!” You shout as you squirm for the millionth time. But he leaves and walks out of the room. He purposefully leaves the door open and heads down the hall into your shared bathroom.

Harry had a plan. If you weren’t willingly going to tell him you were aroused, which it was very obvious that you are, he would tease you. It was his greatest strength.

After turning on the shower and stripping from his clothes, he purposefully leaves his door open too, so you can hear everything. Once he gets in, he doesn’t hesitate to take his aching erection in his palm. He strokes his length as his body gets lathered in water.

Pictures of you with the cuffs appear in his head; helpless, needy, and vulnerable, just like he said. Based on your reactions, he could tell you were turned on by something and Harry was sure to crack you. He’s been waiting for this moment for a long time. Now, all he has to do is not fuck up.

He imagines you squirming underneath him as he rubs your clit, desperate for relief and freedom from the confinements.

“Harry!” You called out, but it was hopeless. You could hear him in the shower, taunting you. Your mind went straight to the image of his naked body and pictured it above you. You’ve never even seen him fully naked, but just the thought of it aroused you even more.

His strokes became faster as you shouted, rubbing his thumb over his leaking slit. In his mind, he translated them as moans of his name, which motivated him to pump brisker.

“Fuck, Y/N,” He groaned loud, for once hoping you heard him.

His balls tighten as another fantasy explores his mind: you on your knees, cuffs behind your back, as you suck his cock. Your eyes peering up at him innocently with tears brimming your ducts would send him into a lustful frenzy. He moaned noisily, his sounds bouncing off the tiled walls and down the hall.

You could hear everything. Including the way his name groggily fell from his lips in that sultry voice you only heard in dreams. Your panties dampened with each loud groan, forcing you to bend your knees toward your chest and rub them together to stop the nearly painful ache.

It was so unfair.

“I’m gonna come, angel,” He nearly whined as his palm slammed on the shower wall, fist pumping fiercely to reach his orgasm. The name slipped from his mouth, but it fit you perfectly.

A small whimper elicited from your lips at his noises, your legs crossing together in agony. You controlled yourself to not roll your hips in the air, because that was rock-bottom level pathetic, no matter how badly you needed him. This was torture.

His knees nearly buckled when his orgasm hit him hard, his balls squeezing and shaft twitching. Spurts of his release paint the walls that are soon washed away by the water as he calms himself down. With breathy sounds and dazed movements, he completes the rest of his shower before turning the water off and wrapping a towel around his waist.

He barely wastes time drying off before waltzing back into your room. Staring at your helpless figure caused a familiar ache in his cock, even though he just had an orgasm. He was insatiable when it came to you apparently.

Your eyes shot daggers at Harry, freshly showered and smelling like some woodsy soap that only reminded you of him. A white towel hung low around his waist and water droplets stuck to his body like he was straight out of a rom-com film. The burning in your lower belly and the pulsing between your legs never ceased. Your chest was rising quicker than it should have for being chained to the bed.

“Something you want to say?” Harry taunted with that smug smirk plastered on his face, slowly padding towards your bed.

His eyes pierced into yours, trying to force you into admitting. He sat on the edge of your bed beside your bare legs with the towel daring to slip off. Your head told you to not fall for his longing gaze while your body begged you to submit.

Your logic could only take you so far with the overpowerment of your body.

“No,” You replied with clenched teeth.

“No?”

He brought his hand to smooth over your shins, firing bolts of electricity straight to your clit. You involuntarily squeezed your thighs again to dull the ache, and you hated yourself for how obvious your arousal was. Harry slightly tilted his head condescendingly innocent, waiting for your response. But you tightly bit your bottom lip, refusing to say another word. You didn’t trust your next breath because if he kept touching you, you’d moan from just his hands on your knees.

“Hypothetically,” You didn’t like where this was going. It was scary, out-of-the-friend-zone territory. “If I were to check, you’re saying you wouldn’t be wet at all?”

You bit on your tongue. Hard. Harry shouldn’t be allowed to say the word “wet” in his deep, post-orgasm voice. When he touches you, you shouldn’t cave so easily.

Why did you have to like him? Your best friend and your roommate? That’s setting yourself up for failure.

Being the stubborn person that you are, you still continued to play snarky, even if you were soaking so much in your panties that you might be leaking through your shorts. “Not a single drop.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I jus’ took a look, right? I know you jus’ love being right,” His hands rub along your legs until they’re on your knees and lower thighs.

He’s not wrong, and you hate that. Why does he have to make everything so difficult? He could simply just unlock the cuffs and go back into his room like nothing happened. So why is he making such a big deal about it? Unless he…no way.

“Go right ahead,” You tried to sound confident, but you squeaked, heart beating rapidly. Did he want this as much as you?

A sly smirk creeps onto his lips as his palms snake higher up your legs until they’re at the hem of your shorts. Your breath hitches in your throat, too afraid to make any noise because it might betray you. How does one act unaffected when they are very much affected?

“Gonna take these off now,” He narrates, and then slowly slides off your shorts. You didn’t breathe, just watched it happen. Your heart was running a marathon in your chest, and you thought you might go into cardiac arrest. With your shorts now on the floor, your legs remain closed. You know that the second you open them you will be proven wrong.

Harry’s fingers sneak in between your thighs and practically pry them open, your right leg hanging off the bed. You gasp at the sudden vulnerability and sharply turn your head in embarrassment. You can feel his smirk and piercing eyes burn into your skin screaming “told you so” while he tsks, but he doesn’t openly say it. He caresses your upper thighs, so close to your panty line.

“Aw,” He says patronizingly when his hands pinch the sensitive skin of your thighs, causing you to subtly roll your hips toward him with a small yelp. “Helpless and needy.”

“Harry,” You tried to sound threatening, but it was breathy and quiet. “We…can’t.”

“Why not?” His reply was instant, almost too fast for you to register. His hand gripped your thigh, making you whimper shyly. You didn’t have a valid reason why you couldn’t.

The worst thing that would happen is that you would fall in love with him and he would leave you in the dust, just like every other one of his hook-ups. You didn’t want to be that to Harry. If you two did this, would everything you guys have built as friends just go to waste? Would you have to move out and find a new place?

“I don’t just want to be another one of your hook-ups. When I have sex, it means something to me,” Why did you always have to make it so difficult? God, you’ve wanted him for the longest time and you’re saying this? He’s just going to run away. He doesn’t want to deal with this shit.

“Y/N, I promise you’re not jus’ another one of those girls. If you knew what I was thinkin’...”

“What are you thinking?” You whispered. His fingers trail up to your panties and tickle the area of your mound. You gasp, as the pad of his thumb presses to your clit. It pulses and throbs beneath him, begging to be touched without the barrier of the thin fabric.

“Want to feel you wrapped ‘round me while I’m deep inside of you,” He informed gravely, eyes concentrated on his own fingers. You whimper again, pushing your hips into his touch. “Want to hear your sweet noises.”

“Oh,” You bite your lip harshly.

“Want to kiss you. Everywhere. Want to wake up and see you next to me. Want to come home to you in my bed, in my clothes.”

“Harry,” This time, his name fell from your lips as a delicate moan, endeared by his words. Your mind becomes hazy from everything; his touch, his voice, his words. You only need one thing now. “Please.”

That’s all he needed. He gradually slips off your panties until they’re joining your shorts on the floor. The air breezes over your drenched cunt, contrasting the burning of your skin. His thumb rubs over your bundle of nerves again, but this time you mewl at the bare contact.

“You’re soaked, angel,” Voice rough and deep, he grunts as his middle finger teases your wet folds. You buck into his hand, desperate for more. Harry’s lips curl into that familiar smirk before he slips his finger inside.

You moan noisily, not trying to remain quiet anymore. You didn’t care. His digit runs deep, nudging your G-spot. The deeper he went, the more your folds could feel his icy cold ring. You panted and wheezed embarrassingly when he slipped his ring finger inside. He pumps torturing slowly, making it possible for you to feel every detail of his skin sliding in and out of you. Your eyes roll back while your hips squirm under him. He glides his opposite hand beneath your T-shirt, thumbs caressing the underside of your breast.

“Harry, fuck,” Your stomach burned. Actually, everything burned. Your wrists struggled against the metal. Your muscles coiled tightly, alerting you that you were getting close. You weren’t surprised that he had you on the brink of an orgasm in a matter of a few minutes.

“Am I making you feel good, angel?” Lustful and sensual, Harry began to pump faster, realizing you were close. Your back arched toward him, seeking to be closer. You wanted to be melting into his skin because you were so attached to him.

“So good, H. I’m close,” You mewled as his thumb brushed over your pebbled nipple. He multi-tasked; his index finger and thumb twisted your aching nipple while his other hand curled deliciously inside of you. Your walls squeezed his digits and your legs began to spasm at the overwhelming sensations.

Not a second later, you felt a wave of relief flush over your body. Your heart thumped rapidly against your ribs and your face scrunched in undeniable pleasure. Harry’s movements slowed as he helped you ride out your unforgettable orgasm.

“You’re so pretty when you come, baby,” Harry compliments, still caressing your breast. You wearily smile, heat burning your skin from his words. He raises his fingers up to his own mouth and licks away your release. For some reason, you opened your mouth thinking he was going to put them in yours.

His eyebrows raise and that cocky smirk comes back before he’s laying his damp digits on your tongue. You suck, swirling your tongue erotically as he barely moves them. Your glossy eyes remain locked on his, never looking away.

“Fuck,” He mumbles before yanking them out of your mouth. His cock twitches impatiently under the towel, neglected. “Dirty girl, huh?” It was your turn to smirk now.

“Need to be inside of you,” He removes the towel and you nearly faint right there. Long and thick, his cock was pink and pulsing at the tip. Precum oozed from his slit and you had the urge to put him in your mouth just like his fingers had been. Harry’s eyes looked at you like he was hungry, and if he didn’t have you he would starve.

“H, what the hell,” You wheezed as he spread your legs wider apart and stroked his painful erection with his palm.

“What?” He questions, hissing as he looks at your soaking pussy again. He never wants to forget the sight of you fucking drenched for him. He’s wanted this too long and too much for this to be a simple one-time thing.

He knows that the second he enters you, you are his. No one else’s. He’s going to ruin you for every other man.

“You’re… huge. Where have you been hiding that thing?” Panting, you start to get nervous. Everything becomes so real. This wasn’t a part of your imagination or some fantasy you conjured up. Harry was really in front of you, and he just gave you a mind-blowing orgasm.

You force yourself to get out of your head and live in the moment for once.

Harry chuckles hoarsely, and leads his tip towards your entrance. His body hovers over yours, face cradling in your neck. “Fuck, my condoms are in my room–”

“I’m on birth control.”

“I–are y’sure? About this, I mean.”

“I’ve never been more ready,” You smile at him endearingly. If your hands were free, you would have stroked his cheek.

“And I’ve also never been so impatient–” Cutting you off, Harry finally slides into you a couple of inches. You both share a string of groans and moans at the completely bare contact. You were more snug around Harry than he’d imagined—he thought he was going to come on the spot. He’s barely halfway in and you already feel a stretch.

More arousal leaks from you while your walls throb around him. His lips press into the skin of your neck and you inhale that woodsy scent again like flavored oxygen. Like you need it to live. His damp hair tickles your neck while your chest moves rapidly with the beat of your heart. You wish you could lace your hands through it.

“I need you to move, H,” You whisper, so quietly that if he wasn’t so close to you he probably wouldn’t have heard.

Obeying your request, he pulls out almost all the way before sinking back into you. Most of his length is in you as he pumps leisurely. Harry grits his teeth as your walls flutter around him, clutching him like a goddamn vice. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t want to ruin this by going too hard. He wants to savor this moment forever. He repeats the action a few times before you get frustratingly impatient.

“Harry, I need more. Please,” Your words of plead cause him to screw his eyes shut.

“I don’t want to hurt you, angel.”

“Big ego you got there,” You roll your eyes as you rock your hips towards his. “Fuck me like you hate me. Please.”

A wavering sigh falls from his lips before he yanks himself completely out of you. You thought for a moment that you scared him off, but then, his cock slams back into you. An echoing moan bounces off the walls of the room while he pounds roughly.

His pace is brutal and concentrated, the head of his dick repeatedly hitting that sensitive spot inside of you. Your pussy clenches him, never wanting to let him go. Harry bucks his hips, ramming into your cunt at a new angle. Out of instinct, you go to move your hands to touch him, but are painfully reminded that you can’t.

“I want to touch you,” You plead, thrashing your wrists within the metal cuffs.

“No,” Grunting, he thrusted impossibly deeper–he practically melted into you.

You groan while he lifts up your left leg to shift it. He moves strategically and briskly, his thrusts never falting. Your eyes spin to the back of your head while the world around you seems to fade away. The only things that existed were you and Harry. But even in this moment, you two felt like you were one. When his lips began littering soft, pinched kisses on your neck, you thought you were going to lose it.

“Oh my God, Harry,” You sighed, hazy in bliss. Every ridge and vein of his cock could be felt through each hearty thrust. His noises varied from deep growls and soft moans, and you swear with just his sounds you teetered closer to your second orgasm.

“So fuckin’ tight, angel,” His breath fanned over your neck that was being covered in his love bites. The noises that fell from your lips were uncontrollable; you didn’t care if your neighbors could hear and you didn’t care if they would send a complaint the next day.

“Kiss me, H,” He didn’t hesitate to listen. After months of waiting, his lips finally collided with yours.

Interlocking, your lips molded together like the perfect experiment. Your chemistry bubbled up and created a flame the color of ecstasy. A firework of emotions burst all around you. He never halts his movements, pumping barbarically in and out while his tongue explores your mouth. To kill you even more, his free hand slips down in between you both and rubs your throbbing clit with a brutal pace.

How does he know how, when, and where to hit?

You become overwhelmed with feeling; everything was so pleasant and blissful, even if the scene was unbelievably dirty, it just aroused you more. Even if it was too much, you somehow couldn’t get enough.

He mumbles profanities as you squeeze his shaft firmly because that familiar wave was so close. Just a few more thrusts…

“Killin’ me every time you do that, baby.”

“I’m gonna come. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” As you spoke, your muscles tightened and your legs wrapped around his torso, forcing him lower inside. He groans as you clenched around him again, orgasm finally releasing from you. Broken moans echo throughout the room as your high causes you to feel floaty. Your heart thumps in euphoria and overwhelming affection. Surrounded in a cloud of rapture, the only thing on your mind was to have him come inside of you.

Luckily, he wasn’t far behind. As he attempts to pull out, about to come, you whine and beg him to stay.

“Want me to come in you, hm? Who knew you were so dirty,” He taunts and you hum in response, simply just feeling him as you ride out your high. “Gonna be the death of me, angel.”

You jerked your hips forward, sensitive and squirmy, as his cock twitches. Before you know it, Harry is coating your walls with his release. Your eyes roll back for the hundredth time tonight, savoring the sensation of his ropes of cum. His heart pounds quickly like a galloping horse, still in denial of everything that just occurred.

Everything felt so surreal, you were positive that Harry had sent you into an oblivion. His strokes become sloppy as he tucks every last drop into your cunt, just like you wanted.

“H…” You don’t even know what to say. You were speechless. Harry literally fucked the words out of you.

“Are you okay?” Was his first question, his first words to you in the aftermath. Your heart swells for some odd reason, even though that is the bare minimum.

“Yes,” Was the only thing you could say in response. In a moment, you came to the realization that the bottom half of your body was naked. Your muscles jittered as you close your legs, covered in wetness.

“Y/N, I…” He wanted to tell you everything. Right now. There was no better moment than right now to tell you everything. Right?

But how does he say it?

You knew Harry was about to say something sentimental or serious. You knew when he was about to say something meaningful that it took him time to find the right words. That was one of the things you found most endearing and adorable about him. His next words were either going to break your heart or make you want to have sex again. Either way, you might cry.

“I feel fuckin’ stupid,” Okay, those were not the meaningful words you expected to come out of his mouth. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “I feel fuckin’ stupid for you. Do y’know how hard it is to live with someone you feel so strongly about? It’s bloody crazy. You drive me insane, Y/N. I’ve waited so long for this thinking that if I had you once it would be enough. But I like you too much for this to be a one-time thing. I need more than this. I need you.”

Your mouth was wide open, shoulders slouching with your arms hanging. You were positive your arms had fallen asleep with the amount of time they’ve been hanging, but your heart was too full to care. That organ in your chest inflated with the admission he spoke. Those words might not have been as heartwarming or movie-like to other people, but to you, there was a strong, heartfelt passion that was real and true. You were surprised he cracked first. You surely thought it would be you.

“Harry, I–”

“If you don’t feel the same, I understand–”

“Goddamnit, Harry! Take these cuffs off of me so I can kiss you, you doof!”

—

i thought this was only going to be 2k, so you’re welcome <3

tags: @crybabyddl @tiaamberxx @alwaysclassyeagle @bisexual-desi @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

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be-with-me-so-happily · 1 year

Note

hows my babies doing??? i miss themmmm <3

Eeeeek! It makes me so happy when someone misses and asks about EWTNC Harry and Stylist YN! I love them so much! So here's a little update.

~~~~~

Photo credits to the owners.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY

Harry hears the bedroom door creak open, keeping his eyes closed and pretending to still be asleep. He can hear the giggles getting closer, and feels the bed shift as two little bodies try to subtly crawl up on top.

"Quietly, okay?" You whisper. "One... two... th-"

"Happy Birthday, Daddy!"

"Hap Bir-day, Daddy!"

Harry pops up in the bed, and turns over to see Winnie grinning, Milo picking at a booger, and you holding a cup of tea, and placing it on the bedside table next to him.

"My goodness! Thank you, my loves!" He exclaims. He grabs both of his children into his arms and tackles them on the bed, causing a burst of laughter.

"Ah! Daddy! No!" Winnie exclaims, her eyes squeezed shut and her smile stretching across her face.

You can't help but feel your chest fill with warmth as you watch them all interact. Doesn't matter what they're doing, if it's together, you always feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and joy.

"Alright you three, time to get up."

"No…" Harry whines, quickly matched by the children.

"Okay, I guess I'll just head to the kitchen and eat all of the delicious birthday breakfast by myself then." You state, slowly turning around as you pretend that your intention is to walk away.

"Oh no you don't!" You hear behind you, as you feel Harry grasp your wrist, twisting you around and pulling you onto the bed. Winnie and Milo quickly pounce, using their little fingers and giving their best efforts to tickle your sides. You glance over to Harry, being met with a look of pure admiration, and he gives you a sweet smile.

"You win! I surrender!" You throw up your hands and they maneuver off you, giggling at their victory. "How about we have that breakfast now."

Winnie and Milo hop off the bed, and you watch as they shuffle out of the room. You turn back to Harry, who still has that same beautiful look on his face, and you sit up on top of the sheets.

"Happy Birthday, Rockstar." You reach your hand up to his cheek and lean in for a kiss. "Who would have thought that the boy in bandanas would be a husband and dad at twenty-nine! Feel old yet?"

"No, just lucky."

A blush forms on your cheeks and you still don't understand how he can manage to do that to you, after over eight years of being with him.

"Alright, you sap, let's get out of bed before they make a mess."

You grab his hand to pull him up off the bed, but he lets out a low growl, pulling you back down and shifting his body to hover over you.

His short curls fall into his face, his necklaces hang down in front of you, and his lips meet your neck. That same spot that he knows so well.

"Maybe later we can get back into bed and make a mess of our own."

"You need to-" You take a quick breath, as he seems to have taken it out of you. "You need to focus. You've got a show to put on tonight."

"Oh, I can definitely give you a show."

"Harry!" You exclaim with a chuckle, weakly attempting to push him off of you, though not much of your strength is put behind your effort.

"It's my birthday…" He replies, lowering his entire body onto yours, and you wish you could give him exactly wants. And, frankly, what he deserves. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling his face closer for a deep, passionate, and lustful kiss, causing him to let out that low growl once again.

One of his hands squeezes your hip, pressing his own into you, and you let out a quiet moan. At this point, you don't care how the kitchen looks, you just want to look at him, like this.

However, you both pull apart as soon as you hear a little yelp from Milo and Winnie instantly telling him that she is sorry. You sigh, feeling the heat between your legs and the bulge between Harry's. He gives you one last, quick kiss and then moves off of you.

You scoot off of the bed and swiftly turn around, meeting his gaze, showing that he hadn't taken his eyes off of you.

"To be continued." You quietly tease, and his eyes widen along with a grin.

"Well, Happy Birthday to me!"

~~~~~

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You don't like it?" He dramatically hits his palm against his chest as his mouth drops open, knowing full well that you love his outfit, considering the way your eyes are traveling up and down his body. "Winnie helped pick it out. I think she's following in her mummy's footsteps."

"Mhm." You hum, still running your gaze all over his body, focusing on his bare, toned, tattooed chest, that you wish you could lick all over.

"Sunshine, I've worn stuff like this before…" Harry chuckles, stepping forward and placing his hands on your hips.

"I know. There's just something about it tonight…" You reply, letting out a breath you didn't even realize you had been holding. Even after all of this time, after the thousands of outfits you've seen him in, and styled him in, he still somehow manages to take your breath away. You look up to him, placing your hands on his chest and running them down his smooth skin. "But… I have to say… I do prefer you in your birthday suit."

"Fucking hell, YN." He whimpers, leaning down to take your bottom lip between his teeth. "Already ripped one pair of pants on stage… I'm not 'bout to go out there with m'dick standing straight out!"

"Right… it's a family show…" You smirk, leaning up to place a kiss on his earlobe. "But it won't be tonight."

"Oh my god." He mumbles under his breath.

"Daddy! Daddy!" You suddenly hear Winnie's little voice coming from the hallway and Harry gives you a quick kiss on the lips before stepping back and swiftly adjusting himself. Then he looks over and gives you a smile with so many meanings. Lust, adoration, maybe a little disappointment, but also happiness in its purest form.

"I love you, Sunshine." He utters.

"I love you too, Rockstar."

Winnie comes through the doorway, rushing over to the two of you, with Milo trying to keep up behind her. "Look what Milo found for you!"

Milo moves in front of his sister, with his hands in front of him, holding the blue balloon that the two of you clearly spotted as soon as he walked in.

"This is for me, Bub?" Harry asks, kneeling down to his son, who hands him the string.

"Ba-woon, Daddy!"

"It's for your birthday!" Winnie squeals, with just as much excitement as Milo, showing off some pride for her younger brother.

"Thank you, darlings! I love it!" Harry expressed, with a smile as wide as theirs, and his heart full of joy. He looks up to you, smiling with all the love he can portray through just an expression, and then wraps Winnie and Milo into a big hug. "And I know exactly what m'gonna do with it."

~~~~~

Series Masterlist

~~~~~

Overall Taglist: @watermelonsugacry @tw1nflamebruis3 @hopefulwastelandcreation @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @queenmadi2 @runway-to-my-aid @theekyliepage @be-yourss @b-reads-things @behindmygreyeyes @michellekstyles @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @buckybarnessimpp @sarcas-latte @msolbesg @sleutherclaw @katiebaxterrrrrr @percysaidnever @thatbitch2828 @mrspeacem1nusone @thurhomish @harrystylesrecs @vickiii17 @itsbebeyyy @divalovesyou @bxbyysstuff @jessitpwk @sunshinemoonsposts @theroosterswife24 @boybands-baseball @austynparksandpizza @missmielyhoran @harryspirate @qualitygiantshoepsychic @tiaamberxx @matildasatellite @fool4him @cherryshouse @yatebe-kohayu @perfectzinenerdperson @babyiamperfectforyou @daphnesutton @around1302 @daydreamingofmatilda @swiftmendeshoran

If your name is blue, I couldn't tag you.

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savebylou · 2 months

Text

One Direction tribute on Niall's show!!!!

credit: holdOnEn see part of the colors here and here, the performance here.

#😭😭😭🤧#one direction #niall horan #tslot #the show live on tour #liam payne #louis tomlinson #zayn malik #harry styles #stockholm syndrome #niall's covers #1d covers #that is so sweet #i put the other photo so you can see the colors of the microphones in case ssomeone doesn't know #dublin n2

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cupid-styles · 8 months

Text

ginger ale (sugar daddy!h)

Harry is a rich CEO and Mia is a grad student that's eight years younger. It just so happens that they may be the answer to one another's problems.

Content warnings: age gap (8 years), sugar daddy dynamic, alcohol, smut, slight daddy kink

Word count: 8k (grab a snack and a bev and enjoy!)

masterlist | talk to me

Mia's never been attracted to older men but somehow, she's found herself sitting at a two-person table at one of the fanciest Italian restaurants in the city, nibbling on the end of the straw in her glass of ginger ale, awaiting the arrival of her date, a man who is eight years older.

To be fair, she got to the restaurant 20 minutes early and forced herself to sit in her car. She tried occupying herself by scrolling through Instagram and TikTok and playing a few rounds of Candy Crush, but she couldn't shake the anxiety bubbling in her stomach.

She weighed her options: she could drive away, go home, change out of this ridiculously uncomfortable outfit, order Chinese and rot on the couch all night. Or, she could text him here!:), go inside, say she's here for a reservation under Styles (a fake last name, she's almost sure of it), and actually give this guy a chance.

Mia desperately wishes she doesn't have a moral compass because indeed, all she wanted to do was binge watch New Girl until her eyes feel like they're going to roll out of her head, but she'd feel so shitty for standing her date up. Grumbling, she turned her car off, stuffed her keys in her purse, and walked into the restaurant, 15 minutes early.

Thankfully the staff doesn't bat an eye at her arrival time, instead escorting her to a rather private corner of the restaurant.

"This is Mr. Styles' table, but please let us know if you'd prefer something more suitable to your needs," The hostess explains as she places entree and drink menus in front of Mia.

"Oh, this is great, thank you," She replies, trying not to let any inklings of shock seep through her voice. This guy had his own table? Her eyes bulge as she glances over the wine list, her eyebrows raised slightly at the triple digit numbers accompanying fancy French names. How rich did he have to be to dine here that often?

Mia's phone buzzes, tearing her gaze away from the overwhelming menu. It's Harry, her date, who says he'll be there soon. Sorry you're waiting on me — order a bottle of wine for us, whatever you like, he'd written, making Mia roll her eyes. He must think far too highly of her if he thinks she knew what any of these wines even are.

She settles on her comfort drink instead, a ginger ale filled to the brim with ice. If this wasn't such a nice place, she would pop ice cubes between her teeth, but she figures that's a major faux pas for first dates at restaurants where a plate of pasta cost upwards of $50.

Despite meeting on a dating app and familiarizing herself with his appearance, Mia knows Harry has arrived before she even sees him. The staff seems to stand up just a little straighter and the baseline hum of conversation tapers off.

When she looks up, she understands exactly why: Harry, whose last name apparently really was Styles, commands a certain presence the second he enters a room. He's striking, fashionable, and charming, floating through the dining area with a luxurious air. Everyone — including Mia — seems simultaneously intimidated and turned on.

Thank god she decided to go on this date.

. . .

Harry is so tired.

Physically, he's been running his body into the ground for the past 8 years or so, ever since he took on the role of CEO at his uncle's company when he retired. He knows that he was insanely fortunate and privileged, and 27 was a rather ridiculous age to run an entire conglomerate. As a result, he feels the incessant need to prove himself and make sure every single one of his employees feel taken care of.

So, he doesn't have much a social life.

He has his core group of friends from college. He's close with his family. He has friends at work, and he attends numerous charity events and galas as an investor. In hindsight, he has it all — except for a romantic partner.

Harry doesn't think that you need a boyfriend or girlfriend for life to be complete, but he's certainly guilty of missing it. He hasn't had a serious partner since college, a sweet girl named Zyla, but they broke up shortly after graduating. Since then, Harry has gone on tons of dates — he knows he had so much, and he wants to share it with someone. However, it seems that all of those people are after the same thing: wealth.

He understands it. Truly, he does, and he doesn't think those people were necessarily bad. But after years upon years of shitty first dates, he's exhausted. His best friend Mitch and his girlfriend Sarah suggested he try out dating apps, so they helped him sign up for Tinder and Bumble, where were fine enough. They were good at helping him scope out people he'd actually mesh well with, but they usually ended in one night stands, never to be heard from again.

Harry is 35. He doesn't want wild sex with strangers anymore.

After a date at a bar with a guy who didn't even pretend like he was interested in him romantically, Harry snapped. If money was all he was good for, he would be upfront about it from here on out. It had gotten him everything else he could've ever dreamed for in this life — a gorgeous penthouse apartment, designer clothes and shoes, non-profit donations galore — so why not just use it to find his forever partner?

That night, after polishing off a bottle of red wine to himself, he swiped onto his dating app of choice, clicked on settings, and deleted his existing bio. Sarah had initially suggested making it about what he liked and what he was looking for, but he was eager to rid his account of its current description: "Born in London, permanent NYC transplant. Love art, books, and fashion. Send me your favorite Fleetwood Mac song."

Without a second thought, he typed in a new bio: CEO. Let me take care of you.

. . .

Harry Styles makes Mia extremely nervous.

He hasn't even sat down yet and her stomach already feels like it's in her throat, her lips parted slightly as she took in his presence. He looks so effortlessly cool, and she's nearly positive she saw his trousers on the Gucci Instagram page last weekend.

"Hey," Harry grins as he approaches the table, shedding his body of the navy blue blazer he wore, "Mia, right?"

"Mhm." She nods tightly, noting at how the waiter pulled Harry's seat out for him, placing the menus out in front of him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Harry," he says as he settles into his seat. He glances up at the waiter and shoots him a charming smile. "Thank you, John."

John, apparently, quickly shuffles away. Mia squeezes her hands into tight fists under the table while Harry glances over the wine menu, though she was almost positive he was doing it as a courtesy if he knows everyone that works here.

"Did you have a chance to decide on a wine?" he asks, glancing up with raised eyebrows.

"Um, no," Mia mumbles, "I just got a... ginger ale."

She feels incredibly dumb now. What was she even doing here? She's wearing clothes from the clearance section of ASOS and a pair of platform oxfords, meanwhile, Harry's outfit looks like it cost her entire monthly rent.

"Oh, do you not drink? I'm sorry for assuming."

"I do," Mia replies with a shake of her head, her eyes drifting down back down to the drink list, "I just... don't really know any of these... and I also don't know how to pronounce most of them."

"That's okay. Is it alright if I pick one?"

Mia nods and rolls her lips into her mouth. She wonders if it was too late to escape — can she say she has to use the bathroom and try to sneak out the window? This has to be some kind of prank.

"Once we get our entrees, we can talk out the details of the arrangement, should you be interested," Harry murmurs, closing the faux leather of the main menu, "I'm not sure if you came prepared with certain stipulations, but I'm happy to hear any that you have."

Mia's eyes bulge, leaning forward slightly with furrowed eyebrows. "I'm... what?"

Of course, John decided to come back just as Harry's jaw ticked, looking just as confused.

"What can I get you two to eat this evening?" he asks, though Mia barely listens as Harry lists off some random wine, followed by a pasta dish. John looks down at Mia, who swallows harshly, grimacing.

"I'll do the same," she jumbles out. He nods and shoots her a smile before stepping away to put their orders in.

"What do you mean by arrangement?" Mia hisses out, leaning forward and keeping her voice low.

"You're joking, right?" Harry asks, a slight crinkle forming between his brows.

"Do you... what do you think this is?" Mia demands as she digs her fingernails into her palms. Does he think she's a prostitute or an escort? She doesn't think anything on her profile gives off that vibe, and while she knows she isn't dressed as nicely as he is, it isn't enough to warrant such an assumption.

"You... you read my bio, didn't you?" Harry questions, sitting back in his seat, "You understand what I'm looking for?"

"I have no fucking clue what you're talking about, Harry." Mia's teeth are gritted, her jaw set in annoyance.

He leans forward again, glancing over his shoulder to make sure none of the waitstaff is walking by. In a hushed tone, he mumbles something intelligible out.

"What? I didn't hear you."

"I'mlookingforasugarbaby."

"A what? Can you speak up a little?"

"A sugar baby!" Harry whispers out aggressively, clutching the corners of the table. Mia raises her eyebrows in shock and surprise, doing a mental recap of what she knew about Harry — she never would have swiped for him if that's all he was looking for, mainly because the whole concept made her too nervous. Their virtual conversations had been tame, consisting of normal questions about their occupations and hobbies. How did she miss this?

"I... I didn't know that's what you were looking for," Mia replies slowly, "Your profile didn't say anything about that..."

"Yes, it did!" Harry nearly whines, "'Let me take care of you?' That literally implies a sugar baby situation!"

"Are you serious?" Mia asks, her face twisted in a cross between confusion and disgust, "You think people understand that's what that means?"

"Obviously!"

Mia shakes her head and grabs her napkin from her lap, tossing it on the table. She feels so discouraged and frustrated, there's no way this Harry guy wasn't a total creep.

"Wait— Mia, don't go," Harry says, following her lead and standing from his seat, "Please, I'm sorry about the confusion. This isn't a reflection on you whatsoever. Can we just talk? I'll explain why I'm looking for this type of thing, treat you to dinner, no strings attached."

Mia sighs. Harry's expression and tone seem genuine and if she's being completely honest, a little naive, too. She's already here, hungry, and dressed up. It wouldn't hurt to stay.

"Fine," she mutters, plopping back down in her seat, "But you're getting me the cheesecake for dessert. And you're paying for my parking."

A small smile wiggles its way onto Harry's lips. "I'd be honored."

Mia has to look down at the tablecloth so he doesn't see the blush warming her cheeks.

. . .

Over large plates of pasta slathered in decadent sauces, Harry explains why he's in the market for a sugar baby.

"I've never looked for this type of relationship before—"

"Yeah, no kidding."

"Anyway, I'm so used to people only being interested in me for my money so I figured why not try to use it to my advantage, I guess. I'd want it to be as casual as possible... like I really am just looking for someone to come to events with me, maybe hang out on the weekends and go out on dates if we clicked enough."

Mia nods her head as she chews her penne vodka thoughtfully. "And what would I get in exchange?"

"Well, what do you want?" Harry asks through wine stained lips, "Do you have any bills you want paid? Student loan debt? Clothes, electronics, furniture?"

"How rich are you?" Mia questions before sipping on her second ginger ale of the night.

"I'm... definitely wealthy," Harry replies carefully, "My net worth is in the millions, if that tells you anything."

"You could've just said you're a millionaire."

"Are you always this bratty?"

She huffs, leaning back against the plushy velvet of her chair. She takes the lull in the conversation as an opportunity to sincerely contemplate the logistics of this situation: She stayed for the free meal from the rather... attractive, and apparently disgustingly rich man, but was she seriously, actually considering going through with this?

No. It was crazy.

Wasn't it?

"I can see you're having some sort of internal moral battle," Harry murmurs after taking a sip of wine. "I told you, no strings attached here. If you're not interested, it's more than okay."

"I don't know," Mia says, breathing out through her nose as she lowered her fork, "I would be lying if I said I didn't need the... financial assistance, I guess."

"Let's talk money, then," he shrugs, leaning his elbows on the crisp table cloth. "What do you need help with?"

Mia hadn't grown up poor, but she certainly had never been rich. Her parents had modest careers and were now retired. They taught her the importance of saving and paying her bills on time. They instilled education in her as top priority and never pressured her to pick a career that would make her the most money, instead pushing values of true happiness and satisfaction. It's honestly how she ended up in her second year of grad school with hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt under her belt.

"Well, I'm a student and I work part-time. I'm in grad school to become a social worker. I pick up shifts at the university's library when I'm not in class, so probably like... three or four days out of the week."

Harry nods, listening intently. His gaze is intense and it makes Mia's face warm.

"That seems like a lot," he says, a twinge of sympathy creeping into his tone, "You must be tired."

Mia shrugs her shoulders. "I guess."

Admittedly, she's uncomfortable with the apparent empathy Harry emits. She's used to being fairly independent and working herself to the point of burnout, solely because it was what'd she been doing since she was an undergrad. She's never entertained the thought of someone helping her out, let alone with finances.

Pursing his lips, he nods slowly before folding his hands together. "Here's what I'm willing to propose. I usually have one or two events a week, sometimes work-related, sometimes just appearances or charity things. If you'd be willing to be my date to at least one of them, I'm happy to have you quit your job and supplement that income. I can also pay off some of your student loan debt, however much you're comfortable with. I'm more than willing to work around your schedule, so if you can't attend something, that's absolutely fine. If you're struggling with rent or other bills, just let me know, and I can take care of those, too."

Mia's mouth goes dry. Harry speaks entirely too casually about money, let alone paying off massive things in her name that she'd been stressing out about for years. She quickly tucks her straw back between her lips and takes a hearty sip of ginger ale, focusing on the earthy taste and carbonation filling her mouth.

"Why?" She blurts out after swallowing, "You don't know me. I'm just some girl in grad school. For all you know, you'll take me to one of these events and I'll embarrass the shit out of you, or someone will figure out how we got involved. Isn't that worse?"

He hums, contemplating the points Mia had made. They're valid, sure, but they weren't deterring him either.

"What would you have to gain from embarrassing me?" He asks, rolling his lips into his mouth contemplatively. "I've been embarrassing myself for years by going out on dates with people who only want my money to begin with. We both need help and this is the best solution I could think of on my end. There's no pressure to agree, but I just think... well, maybe, we could be the answer to each other's problems."

Mia's worrying her bottom lip between her teeth when John reappears, asking if they wanted any to-go boxes or dessert.

She doesn't order any cheesecake, but she does text Harry late that night as she lays alone in her bed, mentally running back through the night for the thousandth time: If you're still interested, I'll do it.

. . .

Mia doesn't hear from Harry for a few days.

Her mind runs rampant when she doesn't have her nose buried in a textbook doing homework or sitting through three-hour long lectures. She can't help but wonder if he's decided it's not a good fit, or maybe the entire situation was ridiculous to begin with. From what she knew about sugar babies — or what she thought she knew — was that they typically involved some sort of sexual favors in exchange for money, but Harry hadn't mentioned anything about that. All he asked for was for her to accompany him at an event once or twice a week, and he was willing to pay for her bills and chunks of her student loans.

Maybe the entire thing was just too good to be true.

So by day three, that's what Mia assumed. After all, he was a 35 year old millionaire — he definitely could do far better than a stressed out student.

She has an apple cinnamon candle burning and one of those eight hour long lo-fi YouTube videos on her TV, hoping the beat-ridden songs would somehow seep some level of productivity into her brain. She was working on a paper she had due in a couple of days, but she was only four out of 12 pages in, and she had the assignment for the past month.

She was just about ready to give up, blow out her candle, and tucker in for the night when her phone buzzes, the loud vibration echoing against the wood of her coffee table, making her jump. She didn't know what time it is, but she knew it was too late for any normal person to be texting her.

That's why she's only partially surprised when Harry's name pops up on her screen.

I have to go to a charity thing at a museum tomorrow night. It starts at 7 pm. Would you be available?

Mia was slightly confused by this — she thought that he would reach back out at some point to iron out the fine details, but it seemed as though Harry didn't care for those. She mentally goes over her schedule for tomorrow; she has classes from 10 am to 3 pm and she should work on this paper when she gets back.

What time would it end?

Nearly immediately after firing off that text, she tapped at the screen again: also, what are you doing up? It's almost 2 am.

The familiar speech bubble popped up almost instantly. Mia wedged her thumbnail between her teeth, biting at it as she watched the three dots.

It'll probably be over by 11 but I can always get you home earlier if you need. Also, I could ask you the same thing.

She pressed her lips together. There was so much she didn't know about Harry and yet, she couldn't help the way her body warmed ever so slightly at the thought of spending the night on his arm.

11 works for me. Should I know anything about the event or you before we do this? I don't want to embarrass myself by not knowing basic facts about you if I end up talking to people.

Mia's surprised when the dots immediately pop back up, but she supposes he's not doing much at 2 in the morning. She tucks her legs under her body and grabs the fuzzy blanket draped over the back of the couch as his next messages comes through.

Are you suggesting we play some sort of fuckboy 20 questions game?

She snickers at that and imagines the way his eyes widened teasingly, as if her request was as outlandish as asking him to come over for a late night hookup.

Which she would never do, and promises she hasn't fantasized about doing it every night since she saw Harry last.

Call it what you want, I just don't want to get kicked out of some fancy event because I don't even know your middle name.

She takes up her decades-long nervous habit of nibbling on her thumbnail when her phone starts vibrating in her palm, this time signifying an incoming call from Harry. She initially wonders if it's some sort of butt dial, panicking about answering it, but by the fifth ring she figures he would've caught on by now, so she quickly presses the green button and lifts it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"You didn't think we were gonna play 20 questions over text, did you?"

. . .

Harry thinks he could stay up until sunrise talking to Mia.

Conversation flows naturally, like they're childhood best friends and have known each other their whole lives. If he hadn't been born eight years before her in a different country, he would actually wonder if that were the case, but youthful, snappy remarks are enough to remind him that there's no way this girl ever existed in his life before. He would've remembered her, even if they'd only met for a moment.

They talk about anything and everything to soothe Mia's nerves about not knowing basic facts about one another. Her middle name is Lucille and she grew up in Connecticut with an older sister. They bond about being the youngest sibling and having divorced parents. Her comfort food is boxed macaroni and cheese, which makes Harry's nose wrinkle, though she swears it's the perfect meal to eat after a stressful day.

"What should I wear tomorrow night?" Mia asks sometime around 3:15, when their conversation begins to dwindle down. Harry hums and picks at a loose thread on his vintage tee-shirt.

"Any sort of dress will do," he replies casually, "I can always have my stylist send some options over if you'd like, just text me your size."

She snorts at that. "Yeah, I think I'll pass on that. You wore head-to-toe Gucci the other night and I'm pretty sure designer shit runs, like, three sizes too small on women."

"Point taken," Harry admits, backing off. "It's not too fancy of an event so don't stress. Do you have anything in mind?"

"Mm, maybe. I have a pink slip dress I wear on dates sometimes. Do you think that would be alright?"

Harry's stomach twists at the thought of Mia going out on dates with other people, but he quickly shoves the feeling down.

"Sounds pretty," he murmurs, clearing his throat. "Send me a picture before tomorrow night so I can match you."

Mia smiles to herself. "That's cute. I'll see you tomorrow then, yeah?"

"Yeah, my driver will pick you up at 6:30. Sleep tight, Mi."

"G'night, Harry," she says softly before hanging up the phone. She tries to ignore the way her heart warms at the new use of a nickname.

. . .

Mia has had a bad day.

She stayed up too late last night talking to Harry, and she's trying not to give too much weight to the fact that butterflies invade her stomach every time she thinks about their two-hour long conversation. She snoozed her alarm to the last possible minute so she couldn't take a shower before class this morning and her professor called on her when she wasn't paying attention, so she stumbled through some bullshit answer about child psychology like an idiot.

She didn't have time to grab lunch between her second and third classes, so by the time she got home, she was starving, tired, and grumpy, but she had to get ready for Harry's charity event. She stuffs a bagel down her throat and hopes there's decent food before jumping in the shower, pulling on her dress, and doing just enough with her makeup and hair. She's additionally grouchy that she didn't have enough time today to make a dent in her paper that's now due in only three days, but she knows she can only blame herself for poor time management.

When she receives a text from Harry that says "Here x", she tries to take a deep breath to rid herself of the day's worries and anxieties. Typically around this time, she'd be elbow deep in a carton of lo mein from her favorite Chinese restaurant and preparing a eucalyptus-scented bath, but she reminds herself that she already agreed to do this for Harry. And the money.

Her platform sandals click against the sidewalk outside of her home, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of a sleek black town car with a man standing outside of it.

"Mia?" he asks, his lips pressed in a tight line. She nods and he opens the door for her, motioning for her to get inside.

When she climbs in, she sees Harry on the interior, his thumbs tapping against the screen of his phone. He glances up to look at her and her breath stalls for a moment. He's wearing a baby pink silk shirt underneath his blazer, matching the exact shade of her dress.

"Hey," Harry smiles, tucking his phone in his breast pocket, "You look beautiful."

"Your shirt." she points out dumbly.

"What about it? Do you not like it?"

"I love it," she blurts out as the man shuts the car door closed, "I didn't think you were serious about the matching thing."

"That's silly. Why wouldn't I be serious about that?"

"I don't know." she mumbles with a shrug.

"Are you gonna buckle up?" Harry asks, nudging his chin in the direction of her seatbelt. She scrambles, feeling embarrassed as she hoists the strap across her chest, clicking it in. The car gently buzzes to life and glides down the road and out of Mia's neighborhood, just as she realizes she's definitely never been in a vehicle this nice before.

"How was your day?" Harry questions from beside her. Her fingers are wrung together in an awkward position in her lap and she has to clear her throat before answering, tugging the material of her dress down to cover more of her thighs.

"It was actually kinda shitty," Mia admits with a bittersweet smile. "Woke up late and didn't really have time to eat too much and my lectures were boring. And I have this kind of big paper due in a few days that I'm stumped on, so that's that."

Harry wrinkles his eyebrows and she can't tell if it's because he's disappointed or about to reprimand her. She prepares herself for the former based on the age difference, assuming the worst from assumptions she's made.

"I told you we would work around your schedule. If you need to do homework tonight that's perfectly fine, I can have Reese turn around and drop you back off."

Mia's slightly surprised at his soft-spoken response and she relaxes her shoulders at it. Harry notices, but he doesn't say anything.

"It's okay. I still have three days... well two since I probably won't work on it tonight."

"What are you stuck on?" he asks, pressing his lips together. Mia glances down at them for just a moment, but she instantly notices their natural muted pink hue. It reminds her of their first date, when they were stained red from wine. "I obviously don't know much about social work, but sometimes it helps to talk things out."

Mia nods at that before shrugging her shoulders, "I think it's mainly just an environmental thing. I spend most of my days on campus so I just want to go home when classes are done, and my neighbors are loud and I get too distracted at home. I can manage it fine, but I usually need an impending deadline to pressure me to work."

"Mm, yeah, I've been there," Harry replies with a chuckle. "Well, if you need a change of scenery, my place is always available. I have an office and guest room and such, whatever suits you. Won't even bother you to play 20 questions."

She lets out a laugh and shakes her head. "I admit, I didn't mind that distraction."

"Ah, so I'm a distraction now?"

He has that cheeky grin on his face — the teasing one that makes her blush and her heart stutter — and she giggles, forcing herself to look away so he doesn't see the way her face warms.

Maybe tonight won't be so bad.

. . .

Harry likes having Mia on his arm. A lot.

Maybe a little too much, really, but he's blaming it on the two glasses of wine and the lack of food in his stomach. Like Mia, he'd had a busy day with minimal time to eat, let alone breathe, and he probably would've ditched this entire thing if she hadn't agreed to be his date.

He's not even that special of a guest here. He was a frequent donor to the art museums in the city, and he'd supplied the exhibition with a couple of thousand dollars to get it off the ground. He didn't do it for anything other than the fact that he had too much money and didn't know what to do with it, and his sister always asked to visit this particular museum every time she was in town.

Harry discovers that Mia is actually quite good at schmoozing and chatting with wealthy people. She plays the part of Harry's girlfriend well, and the sight makes his throat dry. She's sweet and kind to everyone they talk to, even if they bring up points that are painfully boring, and she wraps her hand around his as they meander around the room, picking at h'ordeuvres and refilling their glasses.

It almost feels natural.

Sometime around 10 pm, though, he can feel her posture slump slightly and yawns begin to escape her. He excuses them from the conversation he was just barely paying attention it and smoothly guides her with his hand at the small of her back.

"'s a matter?" she whispers, her eyes widening. "Did I do something wrong?"

"What? No, of course not. You're getting tired though, hm? I wanna make sure I get you home at a reasonable hour."

Mia blinks a few times, a look of confusion crossing over her face. "You said 'til 11 though, right?"

"There's no reason for us to stay any longer and you've already done so much by being here, Mi," Harry murmurs as he fires off a quick text to let Reese know they're ready to be picked up. "Lemme get you home, okay?"

She doesn't argue any more at that, and that's how he can tell she's genuinely exhausted. He smiles gently and shrugs his blazer off, then wraps it around her shoulders.

"It's gonna be cold out there, temperature was slated to drop a bit," he explains shortly, swallowing at the sight of her in his jacket. "Reese will be here any minute if you're ready to go, though."

Mia nods. As Harry turns on his heel to exit the building, she reaches out without thinking, intertwining their fingers together. He turns instantly, wanting to make sure that she was okay, but all he sees are wide eyes and a furious blush.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she scrambles, dropping his hand, "I... don't know why I did that, I'm sorry, I'm tired."

Harry smirks. "We can hold hands if you want, babe."

She scowls at his teasing tone but nevertheless reaches outward once more to grasp his hand in hers.

"If you make fun of me for this when I'm sober and not as sleepy, I'll kick you in the shins."

He lets out a loud laugh, "Wouldn't dream of it."

. . .

Harry doesn't hear from Mia for two days.

He tries to distract himself with work and the gym, but he's lying if he says he's not checking his phone every five minutes for a text from her. He wants to message her first, but it's been years since he's had... feelings, whatever they may be, for someone, and he doesn't want to overwhelm her. So for two days, he busies himself with going over reports, bringing work home and passing out on the couch with his laptop still open.

Finally, on Thursday night, Harry has Friends on TV while he scrolls mindlessly on Instagram. His phone suddenly alerts him of an incoming call, and his fingers itch at the sight of Mia's name. He doesn't even have it in him to wait 10 seconds before he picks up.

"Harry?" She sounds stressed as he rushes out his name before he's able to say hello.

"Mia?" He echoes her panicked tone, "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"My paper is due in five hours and I still have four pages to go and I— I don't know what to do, I'm freaking out, I'm so tired and I just— it's worth 70% of my grade and I'll fail the class if I don't—"

"Mi, breathe," Harry cuts her off, placing his elbows on his knees. "What do you need? Do you need to talk it out, read it out loud to me?"

It's silent for a moment and butterflies invade his stomach, wondering if he's pressed too hard. Maybe she just needed to vent.

"I was actually wondering if I could come over and work," Mia says softly. "It's fine if not, I'll be okay—"

"Yes." Harry replies, quick enough to make himself grimace. "Um, yes, of course, the offer still stands. I'll send Reese for you right now and I'll set you up wherever you want."

She breathes a sigh of relief into the receiver, mumbling out a series of "okay"s.

"Did you eat, darling?"

"N-no. I came straight home after work and I... just didn't have time to cook anything."

"Work?" Harry repeats, flashing back to their date two weeks ago, when he told her she could quit her job. "I told you I would supplement your income if you left."

"Well, um... you didn't exactly... pay for me for the event a few days ago and I just thought maybe our... arrangement, um, changed."

"Oh, sweetheart," Harry sighs, lifting his hand to his hair, pulling at the messy roots. "I'm so sorry, I thought... I assumed you would ask when you needed money. I've never done this with anyone else and I didn't even think."

She swallows thickly and pauses on packing her bag to bring to his house.

"Listen, let me order some food and when you get here, we'll work on your paper and I'll send you some money to make up for the other night, alright? We'll iron out the rest of the details, too. I don't want you to keep working yourself to the bone."

"Okay," Mia breathes into the receiver, and the muffled shuffling in the background resumes. "Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Harry. That sounds good."

"Of course. Reese is on his way, I'll see you soon."

"See you."

. . .

Mia wants to cry when Harry unlocks the door of his penthouse apartment.

She's so tired and burnt out and all she could focus on the drive over was whether or not her thesis was good and if she had enough points and data to reach the word count.

She wants to collapse the moment she steps inside, brushing past Harry with a small, forced smile, who is already in a pair of sweatpants, a worn tee-shirt, fuzzy socks and a pair of reading glasses.

The tears actually start when she glances over to the kitchen island to see a bowl of macaroni and cheese and a ginger ale.

"Eat," he murmurs as he reaches his arm out to take Mia's bag. She's stuck in her place though, eyes watering at the sight of her comfort meal in Harry's million dollar apartment. "Mi? You alright?"

She blinks the tears away and parts her lips, looking up at him with wide eyes. "You remembered."

Harry smiles gently and nods, pressing a hand to her upper back and guiding her to the dining room table. "Of course I did."

He shuffles down the hallway as Mia stuffs a few forkfuls of macaroni in her mouth. She doesn't realize how utterly starving she is until right now, and she has to admit that having some food in her system is helping soothe her anxiety.

Harry meanders back out as she's sipping on her ginger ale, "Okay, I set your stuff up in my office. Plugged your computer in, put your phone on do not disturb. I'll be in my room if you need anything."

"Wait," Mia jumps up, glass in hand. "Uh... I'm sure you worked all day and the last thing you want is to hang out while I write this paper, but would you... stick around, maybe hear some of my ideas out? I tend to get a little loopy when I'm stressed."

A dimpled grin wiggles its way onto Harry's face.

"I'd love to, Mia."

. . .

"Harry? Can you read this and tell me if it makes sense?"

It's been two hours of quiet typing, discussing Mia's thesis, and Harry playing mindless games on his phone until she asks him to go over something with her. He's exhausted — they both are, but she only has an hour before the deadline and they have no choice but to keep trucking on.

She hands him her laptop and he peeks through his glasses, reading the highlighted paragraph. It's something about community-based learning opportunities connecting to abuse victims, and while the only relevant knowledge he has is from a freshman psychology course, Mia is knowledgeable and great at what she does. She breaks down concepts in a way that's easy to understand and listening to her talk about something she's passionate about makes his heart swell with joy.

"Looks great, Mi," he murmurs as he passes her laptop back, "How much more do you have left?"

"That was actually it." She says with a bright smile despite her tired eyes. "I can submit it now as long as all that sounds good."

Harry grins and rises from the en-suite couch, stretching his arms out. Mia can't help but notice the sliver of his torso revealed as he bends back slightly and she swallows, refocusing back to the screen.

"D'you wanna stay over, darling? It's already 3 and I bought a six-pack of ginger ale that I won't drink."

Mia's heart tightens as she clicks 'submit', shutting her laptop and looking up at him.

"Are you sure that's alright? You've done so much for me already, I don't wanna be a bother."

"Not a bother," Harry mumbles, nodding his head in the direction of the hall, "Also, send me your Venmo so I can send some money over, hm?"

"Harry— wait, about that," she scrambles up from the desk, wringing her hands together behind her back as she steps towards him, "I don't want you to pay me for that night."

"What?"

"I don't know if this is... presumptuous of me, but I had a really nice time being your date. And I don't want you to pay me for that time."

"Oh," Harry mutters, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. "You need money though, don't you?"

"Well, I'm not at your status but that's not why I'm here. Or why I went with you the other night."

"What?"

Mia swallows and takes a deep breath. "I like hanging around you, Harry. I like who you are. I don't want this to be a financial exchange if... if you want the same thing."

"Really?" Harry asks, blinking owlishly at the girl, "You... you don't want me for my money?"

She shakes her head. "No. I don't."

"I like you," he blurts out, making a smile appear on her lips. "I don't want that arrangement either."

Her shoulders relax and her smile turns into a grin. He steps closer to her and tentatively reaches out to press a hand to her hip, waiting to see if she'll reject his touch.

"Can I kiss you?" Harry asks softly, glancing down at her mouth. "I've been dying to since that first night."

Mia nods quickly, breathing out an affirmative answer. He leans forward and smears their lips together, nearly moaning out in relief from the feeling of closeness he'd been dying for. She stands on her tippy-toes and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her chest up against his. It's warm and wet and so nice, but he forces himself to break away, leaning her forehead against his.

"That was nice." she murmurs, little puffs of air leaving her mouth. He nods eagerly and squeezes her hip.

"Perfect," he whispers. "Just... don't wanna rush things."

Mia raises an eyebrow, glancing down when she realizes Harry's hard length against her thigh. He grimaces in embarrassment — typically he's able to control himself far better, not getting a boner from a two minute kiss, but he's been dreaming about finally getting to kiss her.

"Oh," she sighs, and Harry swears he notices a slight glint in her eyes when she glances up at him. "You feel.. big."

He breathes out a chuckle, "Don't stroke my ego, sweetheart, can only take so much tonight."

"Can I... am I allowed to touch?" Mia questions, her voice soft and peeked with curious. Her eyelashes flutter as she peeps up at him, biting down on her bottom lip.

"Only if you want to. Don't feel pressured to do anything, it'll go away on its own."

Harry's honest in his answer, not wanting her to feel obligated by any means, but he's lying if he says he isn't thrilled when she slowly sinks to her knees, palming at his crotch on her way down.

"Fuck," he mutters, swallowing harshly at her sweet doe eyes batting up at him.

"When's the last time someone took care of you?" she murmurs as she gently tugs his sweatpants down, leaving him in a navy blue pair of briefs. His cock is nearly bursting out of them and she licks her lips at the visual, her mouth parting slightly.

"Doesn't matter," Harry replies in a strained voice. She pulls his underwear down to reveal his painfully hard cock, slapping up against his lower stomach with a bubble of pre-cum at the tip. "Wanna take care of you, darling."

Mia giggles at that and begins to pepper kisses along the tops of his thighs. Her fingertips wiggle between his legs, just below his balls, encouraging him to part them so she can sponge kisses along the skin there.

"Can I touch, please?" she asks, looking back up at him. He nods and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, groaning when her hand wraps around the base, squeezing lightly. "I was right. Your cock is big and pretty."

"You're gonna make me cum just from that dirty mouth." Harry mutters, lulling his head to the side as she slowly pumps his length. She moves her mouth to hover over his length and spits, letting saliva dribble from her mouth onto his skin. The mix of her spit and his pre-cum are enough lubrication to help her jerk him at a steady pace, and she smiles when she hears his choppy breathing from above.

Mia mouths over the tip of his cock and sticks her tongue out, licking up the leaking fluid. "Mm, you taste good," she mumbles, almost as if Harry wasn't meant to hear her, "I want you to fuck my face and cum down my throat, please."

He chokes at her casual tone and reaches down to thread his fingers through her hair. "Are you sure, baby? 'M perfectly content with just watching you on your knees like this."

With her cheek pressed against his thigh, she smiles brightly at the use of the pet name, still nodding her head at his question.

"Mhm. I usually don't like deep-throating but your cock is really nice... wanna taste you and feel you burst in my mouth."

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me."

She lets out a giggle as Harry slowly guides his cock into her mouth. She takes him with ease, relaxing her throat until she's taken most of him. He inhales sharply through his nose as she takes initiative and begins bobbing up and down, drool starting to leak from the sides of her mouth. He groans as he watches her, growing comfortable when he sees how eager she is, and moves his hips in time with her movements until her nose is flush against his pelvis.

"Fuck, Mia," Harry moans when she gags around his tip. Mascara-stained tears flow from her eyes and down her cheeks, but she doesn't give an inkling a discomfort, only doubling down on her efforts with a muffled whimper.

She releases for a moment and he's prepared to ask if he's being too rough as she wipes spit from her chin, "You can go harder, I'm fine. Also, is it alright if I call you daddy?"

"Jesus Christ," Harry guffaws, allowing his head to duck back fully now, "Yeah, sweetheart, choke yourself on daddy's cock."

Mia grins and squeezes her thighs, instantly diving back in. Harry bucks his hips, fucking her throat deeper and faster as his orgasm quickly unravels in his body. Lightning zips throughout him, his groans quickly getting louder every time she gags around his length.

"I'm gonna cum," Harry warns, the familiar feeling building. He looks down at her and watches her greedily take him, and that's all he needs before he's exploding. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, fuck—"

He's filling up her mouth with rapid ropes of warm cum and she moans at his taste, letting him empty his balls and continue using her throat. He breathes harshly as his peak slowly ends and she slides off of his sensitive cock, cum spilling out the corners of her mouth.

Without a word, he pulls her up and surges forward, pressing their lips together. She squeaks in surprise but eagerly kisses him back, their tongues swapping the fluid he just emptied into her mouth. They part with harsh breaths, Mia clutching his shirt with tight fists.

"Was that okay?" she asks as he wipes the remaining mix of spit and cum from her lip.

He smirks and shakes his head, "You're silly for even asking that. It was amazing."

"Mm, good."

"C'mon, I'm not letting you go home at this hour. You can stay in the guest room if you don't want to sleep with me."

"I just swallowed your cum, I think you owe me a cuddle, Styles."

He lets out a loud laugh and tugs at her hand, out in the direction of the hallway and to his bedroom, "Whatever you want, darling."

. . .

The next morning, Mia wakes up in a huge, comfy mattress, surrounded by luxurious tufts of white duvet.

For a minute, she forgets where she is, until she's reminded of the night before. She blushes at the overwhelming happiness that floods her body, remembering the way Harry held her all night and pressed kisses to her cheeks and forehead every time he woke up.

When she opens her eyes, she's expecting to see him, but she's met with an empty mattress. She sits up with furrowed brows until she zeroes in on a folded note on his pillow with her name and a heart next to it.

Smiling gently, she opens it.

Morning, sweetheart. Got called into the office early and you looked too sweet to wake up. Make yourself at home, feel free to invade my closet or fridge.

Leaving you my credit card to treat yourself to something nice, too — just because we're not in this arrangement anymore doesn't mean I won't take care of you financially.

xx daddy

Mia squeals and falls back against the bed.

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overwhitesandpinkss · 1 month

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smiley harry 😁

#1d #harry styles #one direction #larry #larry stylinson #the show live on tour #tslot #liam payne #louis tomlinson #niall horan #zayn 1d #louis 1d #liam 1d #niall 1d #harry 1d #zayn malik #1d reunion

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ifancyharry · 7 months

Text

what it is: YN is Harry’s personal assistant and she gets sick, but he’s playing Wembley

word count: 4k

The air is crisp and clean as YN steps out of her hotel into the streets of London, hurrying down the sidewalk as she scurries to the first pharmacy she can find.

It’s 7.54 in the morning and she’s been awake for almost twenty-four hours. Not on purpose, obviously. And not on her boss’s orders either, despite having there been nights the team deemed important and she was required to pull an all nighter, but those were usually times of celebrations, either spent at an afterparty or waiting until midnight for Spotify to release the album everyone had been working hard on.

The air hurts her lungs as she stops to catch her breathing, the pounding behind her temples not dimming the slightest as she trespasses the sliding doors of the pharmacy, only intensifying with the bright artificial lights shining down on her from the ceiling.

She pulls her sunglasses out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and slides them over her eyes, relishing in the temporary relief washing over her sensitive eyes.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out, grimacing at the name on the screen; it’s her boss, Harry, asking her what time she’s ready to leave for the venue.

Once her turn comes, she quickly explains her symptoms to the pharmacist and just as quickly she pays for the medicine the pharmacist has taken out for her.

She walks out of the pharmacy and types back a short response to Harry, telling him she’s on her way to his room.

She hopes the medicine she has stuffed in her pocket will make her feel better, and she thinks as she’s making her way back to the hotel that she’ll ask Harry to stop along the way to grab a coffee, hoping it will soothe the tension behind her temples. There’s no way she can be sick when her boss is playing at Wembley for the first time.

…

Harry isn’t one to comment on other people’s appearances, his mum taught him that and it has stuck with him since he was a little kid, a sort of an unspoken rule out of kindness, and therefore he’s never asked if someone was sick because they weren’t wearing makeup or if someone had eaten a little more over the holidays. He never considered other people’s looks something that concerned his range of business, but once he sees YN, he can’t help but wonder if she’s okay.

Her hair is tied in a messy braid, and there’s some strands falling out of it and in front of her eyes. She’s wearing a big love on tour sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants, but that isn’t particularly concerning, because he’s used to her comfy articles of clothing.

What’s concerning is her face… and Harry already feels bad for thinking that, but she doesn’t look like herself. And Harry would know. Of course he would know, because he spends a lot of time looking at her face, especially when she’s not looking, most of the times when she’s reading a book next to him in a moment of rest or when she’s answering emails on Monday mornings. So… he knows her. He knows her skin looks paler than normal, and the circles under her eyes aren’t the same as that one time they partied all night after Harry won album of the year at the Grammys.

He wants to ask if she’s okay, because after a year of working together they have that kind of confidence, but he doesn’t want that to be the first thing he says to her, so he just smiles at her and welcomes her with a side hug and a good morning.

“Hi” she’s quick to greet back, and Harry notices even her voice sounds scruffier than usual.

“Are you ready to go?” She asks a second later.

“Yeah, yeah, the car’s down already?” He asks surprised. Sometimes it takes a while before the drivers find the hotel, and YN and Harry spend that time watching videos on youtube or talking about the day’s schedule.

YN shrugs but doesn’t say anything in response, which is weird to Harry because she’s usually really bright and energetic in the morning, and she’s really meticulous on top of everything: she never lets him wait without finding something to pass the time first.

“Let’s just stay until we don’t know for certain” he suggests.

She agrees with a nod of her head and she heads to his bed, sitting down on the end of it. It’s not uncommon for her, because she’s always in his space, and there have been times where they were forced to basically sleep in the same bed (one time YN fell asleep on his bed, and Harry was so in his song-writing-bubble he didn’t even realize until he was so tired he couldn’t keep his eyes open, so he slipped in next to her and literally passed out).

He still needs to tie his shoes, so he sits next to her and ties the laces of his ratted vans.

“How’d yeh sleep, pet?” He asks, because she’s freakishly quiet and it’s making him anxious. She’s never quiet, and with this being a stressful day already for Harry, every little thing that’s different from normal alerts him.

“Fine” she whispers, knuckling at her eyes, his question bringing back the awful memory of the night she spent tossing and turning in the scratchy hotel sheets, praying for a moment of solace every time she tried to breathe through her nose and failing.

“Me too…” he nods.

YN feels bad because she should be more engaging, but she really doesn’t have it in her to make small talk.

Some time passes before the driver calls YN’s phone to tell her the van is here, shaking her awake. She remembers closing her eyes to rest them, and next thing she knows she’s sound asleep on her boss’s bed. She’d be a bit embarrassed if it wasn’t for how awful she feels already.

“Crap! I fell asleep!” She exclaims once she hangs up the call.

“Yeah” Harry says from next to her, still laying on his bed, “just fo’ like… fifteen minutes though” He’s playing on his phone, and YN pushes at his bicep, “we need to go, driver’s here”

She gets up from the bed and slips on her shoes, grabbing her work bag (it’s really a tote bag but she finds calling it work bag makes her waaaay more professional) from the floor next to the door.

“YN” she hears Harry clear his voice, and she turns around to look at him.

He’s still sitting on the bed, and he passes a hand through his hair before saying, “are yeh all right?”

She closes her eyes in a furrow and tries not to wince when a sharp pain shoots behind her eyes with the movement, “yes, yes” she stresses, although not convinced.

“Are you sure? C’mon yeh can tell me!”

“I’m fine, Harry” and despite her words, she sniffles, “maybe I have a cold or something…”

“You can take the day off if you need to, yeh know that”

“No, there’s no way” she shakes her head swiftly, “no”.

“YN…” he trails off.

“Harry, I told you I’m fine. I can work! Let’s just go, okay?”

He sighs but does as she says, following her out of his room.

Harry isn’t a worrier. If someone from his team, or band whatsoever, says they can work, he at least presumes they’re mature enough to know the expanse of their limits.

With YN, it’s different. He worries.

Not because he considers her immature, but she’s just… different. Ever since she started working for him as his assistant, he’s always looked out for her, despite being the one that didn’t want to hire her in the first place.

She’s young, she works a lot to prove herself to him, despite him telling her lots of times she doesn’t need to prove anything and she’s doing a great job as she is.

She does unthinkable working hours, sometimes pulling all nighters, other times hurrying to his house in the middle of the night because he’s a little bit of a hypochondriac and she needs to check immediately what’s that new mole he has on his back (turns out it was a speck of dark chocolate that stuck onto his skin).

She’s soft and she always puts her job (him, actually) first, so he doesn’t really trust her to know her limits. If she’s sick she should rest. She should lay in bed and maybe eat a little soup and watch comfort movies tucked under the sheets, but he knows she won’t. And he knows he’s the reason behind that, because he’s playing at Wembley tonight, and she doesn’t want to cause trouble. Harry thinks she in no way could ever be described as trouble.

And maybe, and he feels a little bit scared to admit this, he could postpone the show just by a couple hours, at least until he knows she’s resting at the hotel. but, she hurries into the van and pretends like she’s just got “a cold or something”, so Harry doesn’t question her further.

He could just order her to take the day off, but he knows that would hurt her feelings, and he can imagine the look on her face, like a puppy being scolded, so he bites his tongue: there’s no way he could ever hurt her feelings.

…

YN has to stop a couple of times when she starts feeling dizzy on her feet. She shouldn’t run this much when she’s probably feverish, but there’s so much to do! She doesn’t trust to delegate, and not because she’s pretentious, but because she’s a control freak that needs to know how things are being handled, so she would only get much more frustrated and it would eventually just end up in her doing all the work anyway, increasing her fever undoubtedly.

So, she chugs downs a lot of water and a lot of ibuprofen, taking deep breaths every time she starts feeling nauseous. She should probably inform Harry at least that she doesn’t feel good, so if anything were to happen he wouldn’t be too surprised, but she knows how he is; he would demand she stop immediately and go back to the hotel to rest, and she can’t allow that to happen.

Wembley is the dream of a lifetime, and Harry sound checks every song two times before passing on to the next one. YN sits quietly in one of the seats, preparing Harry’s next instagram post on her phone. She handles all of his socials, because that’s what she was originally hired for. “A young set of eyes”, Jeff had defined her, and from then, her life had changed completely.

Of course, she wasn’t aware she’d develop a crush on her boss at the time she was hired. She figured she’d be immune to his charm; she’s younger than him, much less experienced (in every aspect of her life), and hasn’t really seen anything yet, so she thought they’d just be too different to get along. Spending each second of the day together didn’t help, though, because it was then she got to know Harry for who he truly was, and with that, came the awareness of how many things he’d lived through and how many things he could teach her. How soft he was with her, how he would always drape a blanket over her when she accidentally fell asleep on his bed, and how he would tell her she looked pretty even after pulling an all nighter and probably looking like a raccoon. That’s just how he was.

And that’s why she values his dreams more than her health. She would never do anything that could harm him, so she shrugs off the dreadful feeling off her back and keeps working.

…

“Hey” Harry plops down on the couch next to her, draping his arm on the backrest of the couch. If he’d stretched his fingers he could touch her shoulder, but he doesn’t just yet. He knows she still doesn’t feel good, he can see it in the way she’s hugging herself in the Love on tour hoodie she has on (probably one of his because their laundry always gets mixed up).

“Hi” she says softly, her voice much lower than it’d been the last time he saw her.

It’s closer to show time now, but he’s still not in his outfit. YN wonders if that’s the reason why he came in the dressing room in the first place.

“What are yeh doin’ hidin’ in here all alone?”

“‘m not hiding!” She pouts, “jus’… resting”

“Mh, yeah?” He hums, turning his head to look at her, “restin’ your ears? Are you tired of my music yet?” He jokes.

“Never!” She beams, swatting at his chest playfully.

He lets his arm fall down on her shoulder, and he tugs at her, squeezing her against his chest.

She breaths him in, and despite her stuffy nose, she can smell the faint scent of his fabric softener. Musk and lavender. It’s the same as hers.

“I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a pain lately…” he trails off, his mouth buried in her hair, “nothing to do with you… was jus’ nervous is all”

She squeezes his hoodie between her fingers to tug him closer, “I’m really proud of you. You’ll do great.”

“Thanks, pet” he grins, breaking away from the hug.

She sniffles and he looks between her eyes warily, “’s there anything you want to tell me before I go on stage?”

“Jus’ to kick ass” she giggles, aware that wasn’t what he was alluding at.

“Mmmh” he muses, getting up from the couch. He knew she’d be stubborn about this so he doesn’t pressure her.

“Hav’to start gettin’ ready” he clears his throat, heading towards the portable hanger YN set up in his dressing room.

He then proceeds to take off his hoodie and his tank top, leaving him shirtless before her.

She’s seen him in his underwear many times, but maybe it’s the fever, maybe it’s the crush on him that’s growing stronger everyday, but she feels her insides get warm at the sight.

He tugs his sweats down his legs too, kicking them off his feet, and YN pretends to pick up her phone to respond to a message that definitely could have waited.

He picks up the heart printed overalls he’d be wearing and tugs them over his legs, jumping a little in his place so they could fit over his bum.

Once he’s fully dressed, he looks over at YN and finds her looking at him already, her eyes a little droopy. He feels his heart tug in his chest at the sight. He wishes she’d let him help her. If he could he’d send her back to the hotel straight away, but he has to admit he’s selfishly relishing in the idea of having her here, looking at him perform. It makes him want to do even better than he always does.

“All ready then” he smiles, dimples denting both his cheeks.

“Mmhh” she hums, getting up on her feet. She walks towards him and adjusts the neck of his shirt, petting it down.

“Good luck Harry” she smiles. He has to refrain himself from lowering his head down to kiss her, and he’s aware these thoughts are way too unprofessional of him, but he can’t help himself. Not when she’s looking at him like that.

“See ya after the show, pet”

…

“Harry!” Jeff pats down on his shoulders as soon as Harry runs backstage, “you just smashed it! Fuckin’ smashed it mate!”

Harry laughs with him out of politeness, but his mind is really on something else.

“Fuckin’ Wembley, Harry! Wembley’s Harry’s house!” Someone else shouts, and he thinks it’s Lloyd but he doesn’t really pay much attention to him. There’s someone missing from the crowd. YN. She’s nowhere to be found, and he’d really like to celebrate with her. She’s the one that should join in on the fun and get a little bit of praise too, because without her, harry doesn’t think he could’ve played Wembley.

Everything was going fine, and he saw her next to his mother standing in the private part of the pit, but then, when he came back after chatting with a couple of fans, she was gone. He wonders if she’s okay.

“Hey, Jeff” he clears his throat, hoping to be discreet with his tone of voice, “where’s YN?”

“Oh…” he nods, “she wasn’t feeling proper good, so I sent her to your dressing room. I told her to get back to the hotel, but she refused to leave”

Harry nods and after a ‘thanks’ he hurries towards his dressing room, hoping to find her there.

Once he opens the door, the sight of YN sleeping on the couch crouched on herself makes his heart somersault in his chest.

“Hey, pet” he coos softly once he crouches down next to her.

He repeats the endearing greeting, and this time she stirs awake. YN brings one hand to knuckle at her eyes tiredly, and Harry frowns at the sight of her bloodshot eyes. He brings one hand to caress her cheek, but when he realizes how warm she is, he brings it up to her forehead. She’s burning hot.

He immediately feels guilty. He should’ve sent her back to the hotel as soon as he realized she was sick, hell, he shouldn’t have let her leave his room that morning!

“Harry?” She asks timidly, her voice coming out scruffy. She gulps but flinches as the hurt in her throat doesn’t subside.

“Yeah, ’s me” he whispers, moving the hair away from her face, “let’s go back to the hotel, okay?”

“No Harry! The show! You can’t leave… the show! It’s wembley” she stresses, gripping his bicep tightly to refrain him from leaving her.

“Shh, shh” he shushes her, “calm down. ’s okay. The show was great. Everything was great” he coos, pressing his lips down her forehead and flinching from how hot it feels, “you did so great”.

She sniffles and: “great?”

“Yeah” he nods, reassuring her, “let’s go now, okay?”

He helps her get up on her feet, and she stumbles a bit in her place. She grips the fabric of his overalls tightly between her fingers, and he lets her, hoping to be at least a little bit of comfort.

…

“How are you feelin’? What hurts?” He asks her once they reach his hotel room (he wanted to go back to hers, but couldn’t find her key and didn’t want to startle her too much).

“Everything” she pouts.

“I’m so sorry, darling” he sighs, ushering her inside his room.

She’s stable on her feet now, the little nap at the venue kind of helped a bit in soothing her, but still, everything hurts, and the thought of being in a hotel room and not at her own house bothers her.

She also doesn’t want Harry to look at her like this, all sweaty and red in the cheeks. She must look so embarrassing!

“I’ll draw you a bath, how about that?” He proposes, not waiting for her response and heading directly towards the bathroom.

Now that he thinks about it, harry’s glad she’s in his room, because (being the Harry Styles) his room has a bathtub, whereas hers doesn’t. He also has lots of salt baths and bubbles to add to the water, courtesy of the hotel, and he adds everything he can to soothe her stuffed nose and make the bath as pleasing as possible.

She knocks on the door delicately, and he turns his head to look at her.

“Bath’s ready” he smiles gently, and he dips his index finger to test the temperature of the water, careful not to make it too hot to not aggravate her fever any more.

Harry excuses himself from the bathroom, and tells her to give him a shout if she needs anything.

It’s a couple of minutes later when he hears her calling for him, her voice still lower than normal.

He knocks on the door and after he gets her consent he opens it, peeking his head inside. She’s laying in the bathtub, the water submerging her almost to her neck, and he’s aware she’s naked under, but the bubbles cover her body entirely.

“Are yeh all right?” He asks worriedly.

“Mhmh,” she hums, “jus… keep me company?”

He’s happy she’s more responsive now, and he happily sits at her side, plopping down on the toilet seat next to the tub.

They sit in silence for a while, Harry’s aware he’s still in his fancy (and uncomfortable) show clothes, but he doesn’t care. He’s just happy to dote on her now as she’s been doing with him since she’s been hired.

“I can’t believe you played at wembley and I missed half of it” she says after a while, the water sloshing around her as she turns to look at him.

“There’s always next time” he grins at her playfully.

She throws a smile at him, “bet”.

His mouth opens in a sideway smile, his dimple indenting only one of his cheeks, and more seriously than he did before, he says “I wish you’d told me you weren’t feelin’ good”

“Didn’t want to spoil your day” she shrugs.

He wants to tell her she wouldn’t have spoiled it, that if she’d asked he would’ve postponed his show and crawled in bed with her, cuddling her until she felt better, even with the risk of getting himself sick too, he didn’t care. He would have done anything to make her feel good; but how can he tell her? How can he be honest about something like that without revealing another part of himself to her? He’s her boss. He’s older than her. And he doesn’t know if she feels the same way.

So, instead of making a complete fool out of himself, he ushers her out of the tub, passing her a towel without looking at her. He engulfs her in the bathrobe and ties it tight on her stomach, careful to have her bits covered completely by the fabric of the towel.

When he reaches his room, he takes out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers for her to sleep in, and he leave her to change in the bathroom.

While he waits for her to come out, he texts his mum if she could make that delicious soup she always prepared when he was sick, promising he wasn’t sick himself and that he’d explain in the morning. His mum answers a couple of minutes later with a thumbs up and a kissy face.

He locks his phone and plugs it in the charger next to the bed, leaving it on the bedside table.

When YN comes out of the bathroom, she looks better already. Her cheeks aren’t as red and her eyes appear to be more rested, but, she still looks tired, and he smiles at her as he tugs the comforter down for her to slip in.

She curls up under the covers and waits for Harry to tuck her in, “comfortable?” He asks.

She nods with her cheek against the pillow, “just wish I was home” she whispers and the affirmation pains him.

“I’ve been overworking yah, haven’t I?” He sighs deeply, feeling extremely guilty.

She’s quick to shake her head no, flinching when a sting of pain hits her temples with the movement.

“Yes I have… you’ve been s’good” he smiles down at her.

“You’re a Wembley player now” she whispers, her eyes closing on her as she speaks, and Harry chuckles endeared at her.

“Get some rest” he coos, but she’s already fallen in a deep sleep that will probably be tainted with a curly headed guy with green eyes and a pretty smile.

He fishes from inside her bag a tab of ibuprofen and, with a glass of water, he places them on the bedside table closer to her side, so, if she’d ever were to wake up in pain, she could take the medicine immediately.

He takes the shortest shower he’s ever taken, quickly putting on his pajamas and brushing his teeth. Once he’s ready for bed, he slips in next to her, leaning down to press his lips on her forehead to check her temperature. She’s still warm, but the bath seemed to be of help, and probably the much needed sleep, too.

He thinks he’ll give her the rest of the month off. He owes it to her, so she can get back up on her feet and spend some time at home if she’d like. He takes a minute to wonder why hasn’t he ever given her more than a day of rest, and he doesn’t have to wonder too much, because he knows the answer already, one that is overbearing and too deep to even analyze after the day he’s had: he doesn’t want to be away from her that much time. It’s as simple as that. He’s fucked.

Read part 1 to their story here

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stylescine · 11 months

Text

just a little taste | Harry Styles

Summary: Harry helps Y/N relax after a stressful day at work.

Pairing: Husband!Harry x female!reader

Warnings: 18+ only, some angst, oral (f receiving), harry is a bit of a tease, lots of fluff (harry is a very caring husband)

Words: 2.4k

A/N: I loved writing this small piece so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!! Requests are open so if you have any feel free to reach out!

Masterlist | Request

Everything ached by the time she walked through the door and hung up her coat.

Work had been especially straining these past few days. Not even her free days helped and every time she got up in the morning, she felt even weaker than the day before.

Two free days were ahead of her now and by the time she had kicked her shoes off, she felt the need to fall onto the soft cushions on the sofa. Her feet dragged over the floor in her slippers until she finally reached the comfort of the sofa. Without a second thought, she fell forward, landing amidst the soft cushions and letting out a long sigh.

Her limbs still hurt and she wished for the tension to leave, but being able to lay down for now was already worth a lot.

Steps echoed from the stairs, coming closer to her.

“You’re home,” the familiar voice said. Hearing his voice sent a warmth through her stomach, putting a smile on her lips instantly.

Harry had been busy in the studio recently, but he was still home sooner than she was. Sometimes he had to head out for concerts or interviews, but he made sure to get as much time in with her as possible. Their married life worked well like that.

He wished he could take any kind of stress away from his wife. He’d rather carry double the weight of every day life than see her struggle any more.

His fingers found her hair as he stood behind the couch, gently moving through the strands. His familiar scent filled her nose as she closed her eyes, trying to hold onto the comfort her husband was providing. Being home, having him around, was always a great help if she needed to calm down. She had to get her mind off work and nothing helped more than her husband’s affection.

“Two days at home, darling. You finally made it,” he whispered and she could hear the smile in his voice. Opening her eyes again, she was met with Harry smiling down at her, hair still wet from the shower.

“Everything hurts,” she complained, stretching her arms over the edge of the sofa. Harry’s eyes filled with worry as he gave her an understanding nod. “I know, love, I know,” he assured her before walking around the sofa, kneeling down in front of her on the carpet. His hand found hers and their fingers intertwined.

He was always there for her. Always there when she was hurt, tired or just in a bad mood. He had never once turned away from her even when her mood was at a low.

“How about I make you some tea and run you a bath?”

Her slight nod was enough for him to understand.

Harry didn’t leave without putting a blanket over her though. Sometimes she wondered how she had gotten this lucky – finding someone like Harry, someone who would do anything for her.

The blanket was warm and soothing as she waited for Harry to prepare everything.

A few minutes later, he returned with a soft smile on his lips. “Come on, darling, let’s get you into the bath. I put one of the new bath bombs in you bought.”

Harry picked her up without hesitation. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he carried her up the stairs, using the chance to press a kiss to his cheek. She could feel the light stubble there as he probably didn’t get around to shaving yet. She didn’t mind. The roughness of it was sometimes quite welcomed.

When they reached the spacious bathroom, he gently put her onto her feet again. The bath was already filled with foam and reflected a purple colour, probably from the bath bomb. Harry had lit a few candles in the room as well, the smell of cinnamon filling her nose.

Her eyes landed on the pile of fresh clothes Harry had prepared for her. She could make out one of his old T-Shirts and some comfortable sweatpants as well as new underwear on the very top.

“Want me to help you undress?” he asked softly, brushing some hair out of her face. She gave him a brief nod, already lifting her arms to make it easier for her husband to get her out of the sweater. After he had taken it off, he placed it on top of the other dirty laundry.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered as he took the time to move his hands over her waist, taking in the soft skin once more. He leaned down a bit to place soft kisses on her collarbones. It had always been important for Harry to show her these small displays of affection and make sure she would always know how much he loved her body.

“Beautiful.” The word was whispered against her skin, goosebumps following in its wake. A smile spread on her lips as she closed her eyes and just let Harry touch her gently. More kisses on her neck and shoulders followed, even a few on her chest before he knelt down in front of her and made sure to give her stomach some love as well. There was not a part about her that he didn’t love.

He helped her out of her pants as well, before gently opening the clasp of her bra. She opened her eyes again to look at him. His eyes were filled with adoration and love, something she could observe so often when he looked at her. It left a warm feeling in her stomach and a smile on her face.

His fingers hooked into the sides of her panties before he pulled them down with ease, lending her a hand when she stepped out of them. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered under his breath, taking the time to take her in. The image of her naked was a constant in his thoughts and he knew there was no sight more beautiful in this world.

Harry reached a hand into the water, testing its temperature before he offered his hand to her again. “All ready, darling,” he smiled softly before he helped her step into the tub.

She settled into the warm water slowly, letting the foam cover her as the cinnamon filled her nose again. Positioning her arms on the both sides of the tub, she leant back in relaxation.

The warm water relaxed her muscles and for the first time in a while, she felt like she could truly shut down and get rid of all the hassle in her daily life.

Her husband knelt down beside her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Send me a quick message before you’re done, alright? I’ll make sure to have the tea ready.”

She gave him an approving nod as well as a gentle smile. “Thank you so much, Harry.” He should know that she was grateful for what he was doing for her. He could also be upset with her for always being tired and exhausted when she came home, but Harry was nothing but understanding and she wouldn’t trade anything in this world for that. He would always be there to care for her after a long day. It made her life easier. More simple.

And her love for him just continued growing.

When she came back down the stairs, she felt a lot lighter, as if all the weight had been lifted off her shoulders for now. While she sometimes felt her thoughts begin to spiral still, her muscles had stopped aching and her body had been able to calm down. All of that was already worth a lot given the pressure on her for the last few weeks.

Harry was already sitting on the couch, greeting her with a smile and a mug in his hand when she walked over. She could already smell her favourite tea.

“Thank you, Harry,” she smiled at him and sat down next to him on the couch. Her husband spread the fluffy blanket over her, before he clinked their mugs together and then both took a sip of their tea.

She loved quiet and slow evenings like these. It gave them both an opportunity to relax and just have some time as a couple while also finding individual peace. Sharing their favourite tea together, watching a show they both loved or just talking about their day were all things they loved doing. She would even go as far as saying that little things like that were the key to the success of their marriage.

Harry placed his mug down again and waited for his wife to do the same before he gently grabbed her face and pulled her into a kiss. His lips were as soft as they always were, the smell of the tea still persisting on his tongue. Her hands found his hair quickly as his own made their way down her body, to her hips. He pulled her closer, letting out a satisfied sigh when he could feel their chests pressed against each other.

She would never get enough of kissing Harry. It was like a drug every time. She never developed any tolerance to it and was always as blown away as the first time. Soft tugs on his curls caused quiet moans to slip past his lips. There was a growing desire in her belly as she let herself sink back into the pillows of the couch, opening her legs for Harry to lay in between.

Kissing him, touching him, was also a way for her to shut down. Nothing else mattered when they were in the bliss of being with each other. When she could trace her husband’s tattoos and press kisses to his chest, feeling his hard muscles under her fingers.

Her hands slipped under Harry’s shirt as soon as he had settled between her legs. She explored his hard abdomen, letting out a sigh when she could feel him pressing his hips against her own. More. She wanted more.

“Harry.” His name was a whisper from her lips when he moved his head to her side, lips placing kiss after kiss on her neck. Her legs wrapped around him while her hips rolled against his.

“What do you need, Y/N?” His tone was teasing. He knew exactly what she needed. Harry’s fingers found the waistband of her sweatpants, moving underneath it with ease as he caressed her skin gently. Her legs pressed together, tightening their hold around him.

“You.”

“Me?”

Her heart started to beat faster in her chest. She needed him. And his touch. The way he would manoeuvre their bodies with ease, fill her completely and satisfy her desires. She needed all of him.

“Maybe we should do something about that then,” he whispered into her ear. He stole another kiss off her lips before he moved further down, kissing along her neck, her collarbone and parts of her chest after he tugged on her shirt gently. She expected him to get rid of that piece of clothing soon, but he just made his way further down instead.

Harry pulled her sweatpants down with ease. They were soon laying on the carpet in front of them while her husband took his sweet time to cover her thighs in kisses. His hands grabbed her legs gently, giving her thighs a small squeeze. Harry deliberately moved his stubble over her sensitive skin, taking in her reaction to that. A small gasp escaped her as her hips continued to beg for more.

He placed a soft kiss on her clit through her panties. Her whimpers sounded through the room as Harry pulled her panties down awfully slow. He always took his time, trying to have her ready and desperate for him, and today was no exception.

He placed a few more kisses on her thigh before he gently started circling her clit with his tongue.

She let out a low moan, hips bucking up desperately. “Harry, please,” she whispered, trying to chase more of her pleasure. She felt the vibrations of his voice when he let out a chuckle right against her core.

He gave her an approving hum before he started to flick his tongue against her clit much faster. He sometimes moved down to drag his tongue over her entrance, to taste her and feel her legs shake.

She buried her hands in his hair. Her hands were tugging on his curls as she pressed her thighs to the sides of Harry’s head, letting out moan after the moan. The man’s tongue, his skilled movements, were making her experience wave after wave of pleasure. His pace quickly increased, lips wrapping delicately around her clit and sucking gently on it, enough to make her moan out his name. Shivers ran through her as she felt his stubble rub against her legs whenever he repositioned himself, goosebumps covering her body from head to toe.

His tongue entered her again, a strong pull on his hair following. “Oh god, Harry,” she whimpered, desperate for that sweet release.

And she knew he would give her that soon.

His hands got a good grip on her legs as he moved his tongue back up, now fully focusing on her clit and the goal to make her cum. Her moans only grew louder as the movements of his tongue grew faster, more determined. His hands were holding on tighter to her, overwhelming her with all kinds of sensation.

“I’m so close,” she moaned when she came closer and closer to her climax. Every swipe of his tongue, every hum against her core, brought her closer to her release.

Tension started to build in her stomach, her moans only growing more desperate. He pushed her closer and closer to the edge, never stopping with his fast pace.

His lips wrapped around her sensitive bud again and pushed her over the edge.

She pulled on his curls roughly, hips bucking up as she pressed her thighs tighter around him. Her whole body was shaking when the orgasm washed over her, leaving her legs trembling and her pussy clenching around nothing. Her breathing was fast, her heartbeat rapid as she continued to ride the high while Harry’s tongue still drew small circles around her clit.

“Oh my…”

It was all she managed to say.

When Harry came back and kissed her, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and pulled him in for more.

She was definitely relaxed now.

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