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rosyrosethings · 6 months

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Y/n returns after missing

Part 2

Part two

Overwhelmed by a maelstrom of emotions, Y/n barely recognized the sense of belonging that once pulsed in the walls of her home. The sanctuary she returned to seemed distorted through her tears, each droplet blurring the line between her expectations and reality. The first few hours of her return were a blur, spent in the throes of uncontrollable sobs, while her mother's soothing words fell like autumn leaves upon deaf ears. Her heart, heavy with an unnamed dread, had braced for impact, but not for the storm that was to come.

In the midst of her turmoil, her mother reappeared, bearing what should have been a gift but felt like a burden. "Y/n, honey. I’m back, and here’s your new phone. It has the same number as before, and all your messages and pictures are in there,” her mother's voice was a soft hum, a slight vibrato betraying her worry.

Y/n accepted the phone with a murmur of thanks, the cold device a stark contrast to her warm, stinging cheeks. As her mother retreated, closing the door gently behind her, respecting the privacy that she needed. Y/n was left alone with nothing but the glow of the screen. Notifications flooded in, a deluge of missed connections: over 500 texts, calls, and voicemails. Each ping was a reminder of the life that had continued in her absence, each message a plea pulling her back.

She scrolled through the messages, heart aching more with every word. Concern, confusion, and disbelief filled the screen until she stumbled upon Harry’s texts. She couldn’t — wouldn’t — let herself spiral further down that hole, not now. Her gaze caught Zayn’s name, and she clung to the change of focus like a lifeline.

Zayn's initial message was a beacon of normalcy, a reminder of plans made before her world turned upside down: 'Hey, when you come back from your trip, we have to go out and celebrate.' But the messages that followed were steeped in anxiety, ending in a raw, vulnerable confession: 'Y/n, I can’t believe you’re gone...I miss you. You were a really good friend to me after I left the band, and I feel I need you now more than ever before.'

With a trembling hand, she replied, a small smile ghosting her lips for the first time in hours. 'Idk if you have the same number lol. But Hii.'

At that moment, Zayn was entrenched in his skepticism, dismissing rumors of Y/n’s return as mere fan fiction. But then, her message arrived, coinciding with his discovery of a blog post that confirmed his worst fears and best hopes: “Y/n has lunch with Harry Styles and his new fiancée Kendall.”

The conversation that ensued was a dance between old friends, familiar and comforting despite the circumstances.

'Wow, looks who’s back like they never left,' Zayn texted, relief mingling with residual tension.

'Lol, I am back, and better... though I kinda wish I was back on the island right now. Instead of here, crying,' Y/n’s reply was a mix of jest and heartbreaking honesty.

'Ohh, I’m assuming you found out about Harry and Kendall,' Zayn ventured cautiously, the words hanging heavy even in digital space.

'Yea... I did, but it’s okay. The world moves on, Just everything is different,' Y/n texted back with a sadness that Zayn could almost feel through the screen.

Determined to lift her spirits, Zayn quickly changed the subject. 'Okay, how about you come here tomorrow? it’s a place with no parents or ex-boyfriends.'

'Sounds awesome,' Y/n responded, the simplicity of her message belying the gratitude she felt for this unwavering friendship.

'See, I haven’t changed. I’m still your good friend,' Zayn affirmed, his words wrapping Y/n in a comforting embrace, reminding her that even in the darkest times, she wasn’t alone.

***

The afternoon had waned into evening by the time Harry returned home from lunch, the atmosphere heavy with an unspoken tension that seemed to vibrate in the air. The house, once a haven, now echoed with an awkward silence that settled between him and Kendall, thick and almost tangible. Harry's mind was a chaotic whirlwind, the image of Y/n incessantly flashing before his eyes, refusing to fade even as hours trickled by. It wasn't a question of love — his feelings for Kendall were genuine, deep-seated — but since Y/n's unexpected reappearance, the dynamics of his emotions had shifted inexplicably, unsettlingly.

The nightly routine unfolded with mechanical detachment; Kendall slipped into her pajamas, the fabric whispering softly against her skin in the quiet of their shared bedroom. The bed, usually a place of comfort, seemed to loom larger and more imposing than usual, a battlefield on which unvoiced concerns lay in wait.

“The fans are going crazy since Y/n’s back,” Kendall broke the silence, her words careful, probing. Harry offered a noncommittal hum, his mind miles away, lost in memories he thought he'd archived in the recesses of his heart.

She exhaled slowly, a mixture of frustration and resignation, before climbing into bed. The sheets felt colder than usual. “Harry...you called her ‘kitten’,” she voiced out softly, the word hanging heavily between them.

“So? It’s just a nickname,” Harry retorted defensively, a hint of irritation lacing his tone. But Kendall wasn’t convinced. To her, 'just a nickname' didn’t scratch the surface of the significance behind it.

She turned on her side to face him, shadows playing across her features in the dim light. “You remember why you called her kitten, don’t you? I asked you years back,” Kendall mumbled, her voice a mix of curiosity and a painful sort of anticipation.

The memory surfaced effortlessly. “Yeah, I told you it was because she followed me home from school like a lost cat when she was 6 and I was 8...and since I love cats, she became my favorite kitten ever,” Harry’s voice was soft, the nostalgia evident in his words, his mind reliving a simpler time.

Kendall’s heart ached with an indescribable emotion. “And when I tried to get you a cat, you wouldn’t let me...” she recalled, the memory bitter on her tongue.

“Because it would make me think of her, and she was gone,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with a sorrow that had been tucked away until now.

The silence that followed was deafening, the confession hanging in the air, a ghost of a past that neither of them could fully grasp. Finally, Kendall’s voice, small and vulnerable, broke the stillness. “Do you even still love me?”

Harry’s heart clenched. “Of course, I do, Kendall,” he reassured, reaching out to gently stroke her arm, an attempt to bridge the chasm that had formed between them. “Let’s just go to sleep.”

But as they settled into the quiet of the night, sleep seemed like a distant dream, the unspoken thoughts and feelings a cacophony louder than any spoken word. The presence of the past, embodied by Y/n, lay between them, an invisible but palpable barrier as they drifted into a restless slumber.

The golden hues of mid-morning streamed through the large windows of Zayn's contemporary house as Y/n pushed the door open. It was a place she had been many times before, yet the familiar surroundings felt almost alien in her changed reality.

Greeting her with a mischievous grin, Zayn's voice echoed from the sleek, modern kitchen. "You know we absolutely must throw you a grand welcome-back party, right?" He leaned against the cool marble countertop, watching her deftly maneuver through the kitchen, prepping to bake cupcakes.

Her eyes never left the mixing bowl as she responded, her voice laced with a touch of sarcasm, "Oh, absolutely not ." The rhythmic sound of the mixer blended seamlessly with her focused movements, the aroma of vanilla wafting in the air.

Zayn pushed off from the counter, approaching her with a playful determination. "Look, Y/n, you've returned from what the media is terming 'the great beyond'. They're portraying you like a lost, heartbroken soul. You deserve an evening to unwind, especially given the emotional roller coaster you've been on since your return."

Y/n sighed, sliding the tray of cupcakes into the preheated oven, her eyes reflective. "Alright, alright. I guess you're right."

His eyes lit up, an idea sparking. "And... we're inviting Harry. He needs to see just how radiant you'll be tonight."

She arched an eyebrow, feigning shock, "So, I'm not radiant right now?"

Zayn let out a chuckle, eyes raking over the oversized shirt she wore, now splattered with traces of flour and chocolate. "You look incredibly alluring in my shirt, not gonna lie. But the baking aftermath gives you a... more homely charm." His grin widened at her faux glare.

With a playful glint in her eyes, Y/n dipped her finger into a pot of frosting, deliberately hiking up the shirt slightly for effect. She slowly licked the sweet substance off, eyes locked with Zayn's.

Seizing the moment, Zayn whipped out his phone, capturing the candid moment in a boomerang for his Instagram followers. His fingers danced over the screen as he captioned it, 'Guess who's back like they never left.'

Curious, Y/n darted around the counter to peek at the post. Giggling at the image, she quipped, "I look like slut in your kitchen."

Zayn chuckled, "Let's hope Gigi spots this. She posted with some guy literally a day after our split."

Y/n’s laughter softened, her gratitude evident. "Thanks for lending me your shirt, by the way. Most of my belongings were given away, and my mom's wardrobe... let's just say, not quite my style."

He winked, offering her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, "Anytime, love. But we should start thinking about what you're going to wear tonight. It's going to be legendary."

The evening was draped in anticipation as Harry meticulously dressed in his finest suit, the fabric clinging perfectly to his well-sculpted frame. He was mentally preparing himself for the night ahead, a party thrown by Zayn, someone he hadn't communicated with in months. However, the image from Zayn's recent snap, showcasing Y/n in all her effortless beauty, lingered in his mind. She appeared as enchanting as he remembered, if not more so, and the thought of seeing her tonight set his heart racing.

Kendall's voice sliced through his reverie, "Where are you off to?"

"A party," Harry replied, his tone nonchalant but his mind far from calm.

Kendall, sensing an opportunity to bridge the distance that had grown between them, began to ready herself. "Well, you should've asked me to join. I can get ready in no time."

"No," Harry interjected, more sharply than he intended, "I need to do this alone. We could use some time apart, honestly."

Kendall's attempts to negotiate fell on deaf ears, her words dying in her throat as Harry’s tone escalated, "Enough, Kendall! I'm going alone." The absence of her usual endearments — no 'babe,' 'love,' or 'Kenny' — didn't escape her. His formality stung more than she expected.

"Fine. I'll stay back... make dinner maybe, for when you return," she offered, a final attempt to maintain some normalcy.

"No need," he responded curtly, his hand already on the door handle, "I'll be late."

"Okay... bye, love you," she murmured into the void he left behind, her words hanging heavy in the room. The door's slam echoed her solitude.

Driving to the party, Harry's thoughts were monopolized by Y/n. Upon arrival, he noticed the gathering was intimate, 10-15 people at most, creating an atmosphere of exclusivity. His name was cheered as he entered, and a beaming Niall emerged from the crowd, enveloping him in a warm embrace.

"Hey lad, what brings you here?" Harry inquired, genuinely surprised.

"It's for Y/n, plus, I couldn't possibly miss her famous cupcakes," Niall chuckled, the memories of those perfectly sweet treats vivid in their minds. Harry remembered being equally enamored by her baking skills, the cupcakes akin to professional patisserie standards. Niall was known to badger Y/n into baking at every opportunity.

Eager, Harry's gaze swept over the attendees, "Where is she?"

Niall shrugged, "Haven't seen her yet. Zayn would know." His words were barely out when Zayn appeared, a platter of the much-hyped cupcakes in hand.

Harry snagged one, engaging in a catch-up conversation with Zayn, just when Y/n descended the stairs. The room's energy shifted palpably, cheers erupting around her. Harry's breath hitched; she was a vision, her dress hugging her in all the right places, her beauty ethereal. Their eyes locked, a myriad of unspoken words flowing between them. She seemed to pause, a moment of hesitation, before being swept into conversation with another guest. However, their eye contact remained unbroken, both ensnared in silent dialogue while others chattered around them.

A dollop of frosting adorned Harry's cheek as he took a bite, eyes still fixated on Y/n. Excusing herself, she made a beeline for him, determination in her stride.

"May I borrow him for a sec?" Her words were directed at whoever Harry was speaking to, but her eyes never left his. Without waiting for an affirmative, she seized Harry's arm, leading him to a more secluded hallway.

"Hi," he greeted, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards in a familiar smile that she had missed so profoundly.

Her giggle was like music to his ears. Gracefully, she wiped the rogue chocolate from his face, holding her frosting-coated finger up as evidence. As she was about to lick it clean, Harry caught her hand in a swift motion, drawing her finger into his mouth. The deliberate, slow movement as he savored the frosting off her sent a surge of desire through them both.

"You know I can’t resist chocolate," he mumbled against her skin, his voice a low rumble that she felt deep in her core.

Their moment, however intense, was short-lived as Zayn’s voice boomed across the room, "Y/n, c'mon, time for drinks!"

Reluctantly breaking their bubble, she bestowed on Harry a smile that held promises, whispering with a playful edge, "You better be here when I come back." Her words hung in the air as she melded back into the party, leaving Harry entranced, counting down moments till her return.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #watermelon sugar #fine line #harrys house #love story

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rosyrosethings · 6 months

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Will the assistant be getting any updates? Just read through it and I neeeeeed to know what happens after that cliffhanger.

Yea. i plan on it. But i honestly don't know when. But should be soon.

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rosyrosethings · 6 months

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Y/n returns after missing

This story is a rewrite/edit. I posted this story a while ago. But I'm doing over my master list. So i rewrote this. It inspired by the tv show manifest which is a about a plan that goes missing and they return a few years later

Four years had slipped away since the passengers aboard flight N-47 vanished into thin air, presumed to have tragically succumbed to some unfathomable fate. Yet, in a twist befitting a miracle, three souls previously lost had reemerged. Y/n Y/L/N, James Carter, and Sus-... The screen went blank as she snapped off the TV, cutting the newscaster off mid-sentence. For Y/n, those four years encapsulated an epoch of isolation, an overwhelming void where time seemed inconsequential. The world had marched on, relentless and indifferent, leaving behind a cascade of changes she could scarcely begin to absorb.

Memories of her life before the ill-fated flight were vivid and achingly sweet. She had been on the cusp of a new chapter, her dreams tangibly close. A blossoming fashion designer, Y/n was set to weave her creativity and passion into the very fabric of the industry. Her return from Rio was supposed to be a celebratory milestone, marking her transition into a life shared with Harry and the thrilling prospect of seeing her best friend Kendall, potentially the next supermodel sensation, flaunt her designs down the runway.

The reality she returned to, however, was starkly different. Expectations of a warm welcome, of falling back into the comfortable embrace of her old life with Harry, were shattered. Hours turned into an eternity at her mother’s house, each passing moment amplifying her confusion and heartache. Where was Harry? Why was he submerged in a new life where he was a solo artist, a far cry from the hiatus he'd taken from his band in 2015?

Trepidation gripped her heart, preventing her from delving too deep into the life Harry led now. The fear of discovering him entwined with someone else was paralyzing. With a resigned sigh, she closed her laptop, a barrier against the torrent of information that threatened to drown her.

“Y/N? Honey,” the gentle voice of her mother broke through her reverie. The joy in her eyes was unmistakable, yet it carried the weight of years filled with mourning a daughter lost. They had even held a funeral for her, Y/n realized with a start. The profound relief and elation of having her back were palpable in every hug, every tearful smile her mother gave her.

“Yes, mom?”

“Umm, someone is here to see you.”

***

Contrastingly, Harry's life had been a portrait of attempting to move on while being anchored in the past. His home, once a sanctuary of memories shared with Y/n, now housed his new relationship. Kendall, her head resting on his chest, was a constant presence, offering solace in a reality where Y/n existed only in echoes. She was 'Kenny' to him, a pillar during his darkest times, understanding the depth of losing Y/n as she, too, had lost a dear friend.

But the past clung to Harry with stubborn tendrils. His routine, for three long years, involved calling Y/n’s voicemail, a one-sided conversation where he'd spill the day's trivialities and monumental changes alike, seeking solace in the sound of her recorded voice. It wasn’t until the pain dulled into a quiet ache, and with Kenny’s unwavering support, that he ceased this ritual. Yet, he never truly let go, with monthly visits to Y/n's mother becoming a testament to his undying connection to her.

Their bond had been forged in the innocence of childhood, blossoming from neighborly acquaintances to an unbreakable union of soulmates. It was a love story initiated when two eight-year-olds found friendship and grew seamlessly into love as they reached sixteen. It was a story abruptly paused, until an unexpected phone call threatened to turn the page once again.

Harry’s phone shattered the comfortable silence, Mrs. Y/L/N’s number on display. Kendall, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, sat up, her own complex emotions swirling as she watched Harry answer the call.

“Yes, Mrs. Y/L/N, how are you?” Harry’s voice was cautious, unprepared for the emotional maelstrom the conversation would incite.

Kendall battled with her feelings, a mix of jealousy and self-reproach. She loved Harry, but standing in Y/n’s shadow was a constant reminder of what she lacked. She was never going to ignite in Harry the passionate love he held for Y/n. She was a balm, she realized, not the cure to his heartache.

“Harry.. she’s home. My baby is here, Harry. She came back to us.” The words, heavy with emotional gravity, froze Harry in place. Confusion, hope, and sheer disbelief warred within him.

“Okay, I’ll be there shortly, Mrs. Rose,” he managed, his mind racing.

“What is it, Harry? Who was it?” Kendall queried, apprehension lacing her words.

“Y/n’s mom...”

“Are we going to dinner with her tonight?” she attempted lightness, a stark contrast to the situation’s gravity.

“She’s alive, Kenny.”

The words hung in the air, a fragile truth that threatened to change everything. Once again, life’s unpredictable tide was pulling them in a direction they never anticipated. The lost was found, and with her return, the threads of their lives were irrevocably entwined once more.

Y/n felt the soft give of her childhood mattress beneath her as she rose, each muscle groaning, still remembering the harshness of the ground she'd slept on for years on the island. The air around her buzzed with a mixture of familiarity and foreignness, a sensation that had enveloped her since her return. She was home yet felt like a stranger in a place woven into the fabric of her earliest memories. Her room, though untouched, seemed to belong to another era, one before her life had fractured into a before and after.

Since her unexpected return, her home had turned into a pilgrimage site. Relatives she hadn’t seen in years, cousins whose names she struggled to remember, and a throng of others had paraded through the living room. She had hoped, with every knock, that she would see Harry’s face, hear his voice, touch his hand. But as hours turned into days, her hope waned.

Dragging herself to her feet, she moved through the hallway, each step echoing the pounding in her heart. Her feet, moving of their own accord, carried her towards the living room, the epicenter of the constant, suffocating stream of visitors.

And then, she saw him.

It was as if the world contracted in that moment, every sound, every color, every breath funneling into this singularity. Harry stood there, a portrait of the years gone by. His hair, shorter than she remembered, framed his face, and those green eyes, which had haunted her dreams, seemed to glow. Dressed in the simplest of clothes — black jeans and a white t-shirt — he was a sight for her sore eyes. He was her beacon during the darkest nights on the island, the memory of him, a silent prayer, a sacred chant that wove through the solitude of her survival.

For Harry, the sight of Y/n wasn't just a balm; it was a resurrection. She was here, alive and so achingly present that his heart faltered in its rhythm. The past years had been a cacophony of grief, confusion, and a numbness that seeped into his bones. And here she was, her skin glowing with a vitality that seemed impossible. He had always adored her skin, the richness of her complexion; it reminded him of the sweetest chocolates he'd ever tasted. He had spent years bolstering her against the world, against the harshness of critics and fans alike, reminding her of her beauty, her worth.

He was captivated by the woman before him, who had been tempered by survival, her spirit burnished but unbroken. How could it be that she stood before him even more breathtaking than he remembered? In that instant, Harry understood the depth of the void her absence had carved into his life. She wasn't just a missing piece; she was the very foundation that his reality had been built upon.

Without a word, he closed the distance between them, his arms enveloping her in a hug that felt like a collision of every unsaid word, every unshed tear, every unfulfilled longing of the past four years. His emotions breached the dam he had painstakingly built, tears wetting the crown of her head as he nestled his face there. "God, I've missed you so much," he breathed, his voice a hoarse whisper laden with every nuance of pain, relief, and overwhelming love he felt.

Y/n, ensconced in Harry's arms, felt a sense of returning. Here, in the circle of his arms, the world righted itself. His scent, the solidness of his chest, the timber of his voice — they were her lighthouse. "I never stopped thinking about you, not even for a moment," she confessed, her voice muffled against him.

Their reunion, however, was shadowed by an unspoken acknowledgment of the time lost and the reality that had marched on relentlessly in her absence. Y/n detected subtle shifts in him, intangible but unmistakable. As they sat on the couch, a chasm of unsaid words stretched between them. Harry's affectionate term, 'kitten,' once a playful endearment, now seemed to echo across a vast distance, a reminder of a shared past that was both their bridge and barrier.

Their conversation meandered, a tentative dance around the elephant in the room. Y/n's fatigue, both emotional and physical, soon became too cumbersome to carry. Her eyelids grew heavy, her body demanded respite. "I need to close my eyes, just for a little while," she whispered, her words a mix of exhaustion and a quiet plea for things to be simple again.

Harry, understanding her unvoiced request, smoothed her hair back, his touch a promise. "Rest, love. When you wake, we'll grab some lunch, maybe even see Kendall. It'll be like old times," he murmured, the ache in his voice belying the casualness of his words.

Y/n's smile, before she succumbed to sleep, was a fragile thing, a tentative hope. And as she drifted off, nestled against Harry, she clung to the sound of his heartbeat — a lullaby that spoke of shared pasts, present uncertainties, and the uncharted future that lay ahead of them.

Harry and Kendall sat in the subtle ambiance of the café, the murmur of conversations blending with the soft clinking of cutlery. The tension between them was palpable, like a silent storm brewing. Harry's fingers drummed nervously on the tabletop, betraying the calm facade he attempted to portray.

"Did you tell her?" Kendall's voice sliced through the tension, her agitation evident in the rhythmic tapping of her perfectly manicured nails against the wooden surface.

He hesitated, the truth weighing heavily on his chest. "No... I couldn't," Harry admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he averted his gaze, finding sudden interest in the patterns of the wood grain. The confession felt like a betrayal, a stark deviation from the promise he made to himself about honesty.

Kendall's sigh was a mixture of frustration and understanding. "We can tell her together," she offered, extending her hand to provide solace. Her fingers were warm, a contrast to the cold dread filling his stomach.

As he intertwined his fingers with hers, seeking comfort in the touch, his eyes caught a familiar figure approaching. It was Y/n, a sight that made his heart leap into his throat. Instinctively, he retracted his hand from Kendall's, a subtle but unmistakable reaction.

Y/n's energy was like a breath of fresh air as she arrived. "Kenny!" she exclaimed with genuine affection, stretching her arms out for a heartfelt embrace. Kendall rose to return the gesture, her own emotions a complex web of happiness, relief, and an underlying sense of conflict she wasn't ready to face.

The warmth of their hug was short-lived for Kendall, overshadowed by a realization that Y/n's presence might change everything, including her own newly discovered hopes. As they separated, Y/n slid into the seat across from them, her presence filling the void but also reminding them of the intricate dynamics of their past.

"Harry, my mom told me what you did for her while I was...gone. I can't thank you enough," Y/n's voice held a mix of gratitude and sorrow, referencing the home Harry had bought for her mother after the accident — a gesture of kindness in the face of tragedy.

Kendall, feigning ignorance, asked, "What did you do, Harry?"

He hesitated, swallowing hard before explaining. "After Y/n's accident, I...I bought a house for her mom. She was devastated, thought she'd lost her only child." His voice was laced with past pain, the memories visibly haunting him.

"And you never mentioned this because...?" Kendall prodded, a hint of hurt in her tone.

Harry's response was evasive, his discomfort evident. "It wasn't about publicity or gratitude. And you were away, busy with your modeling." He tried to downplay his act, but the hurt it caused was unmistakable.

The conversation took a sharp turn when Y/n's eyes fell upon the sparkling diamond on Kendall's finger. "Kendall, you're engaged?!" she exclaimed, joy in her voice. But the excitement dissolved as realization dawned. Her eyes darted between Harry and Kendall, the implications clear and heart-wrenching. "Oh... I see," she murmured, her voice a fragile whisper.

The atmosphere turned heavy, the weight of unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings pressing down on them. "Y/n, please, let's talk about this," Harry pleaded, desperation seeping into his voice. But Y/n was retreating, her defenses coming up.

The meal that followed was a symphony of discomfort, punctuated by stilted conversation and Y/n's increasing detachment. Harry recognized her coping mechanism as she ordered more food than she could possibly consume. It was her refuge, her way of finding control in a situation where she felt she had none.

Her breaking point arrived with silent tears streaming down her face as she attempted to keep eating. "Kitten," Harry whispered, an endearment slipping out as he moved to comfort her. But she recoiled, the nickname a reminder of what they had and what seemed lost now.

"I need a to-go tray," she announced abruptly, her voice strained. She stood up, her movements robotic as she packed her food, her exit a clear signal of her emotional state.

"Kitten, please, can't we just talk?" Harry implored, but his plea fell on deaf ears.

With a sad smile, she replied, "That's the thing, Harry. I'm not your kitten anymore, am I?" And with that, she walked away, leaving behind a table laden with uneaten food, unspoken words, and unresolved futures.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #fine line #watermelon sugar #harrys house #manifest

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rosyrosethings · 7 months

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Prince Harry

Summary: y/n finds out Harry is a prince and that he lied to her.

Part 1

The day of the anticipated royal banquet dawned, cloaking the palace in an air of exhilaration. Y/n, having already established herself as a virtuoso in the art of dessert-making, arrived at the palace's grand kitchen with her mind brimming with recipes and her heart tangled in thoughts of Henry. The time they spent together had been sparse due to her burgeoning career, but each visit he made to her little shop was etched in her memory, kindling a flame she couldn't ignore.

As the kitchen buzzed with activity, staff members flitted about like diligent bees, their conversations a blend of duty and hushed excitement. Among them, Charlotte, a fellow staffer, shared the latest whispers floating through the palace halls with Y/n and Kelly.

"Rumor has it Prince Harry's renounced his notorious dating spree. They say there's a new object of his affection," Charlotte divulged with a conspiratorial wink.

"He was a notorious dater?" Y/n inquired, the question slipping out despite her.

"Oh, the prince was an absolute heartthrob. Charisma in spades and a smile to die for," Charlotte remarked, and Kelly chimed in with a dreamy sigh, "And those dimples...utterly divine."

Their chatter took a dramatic turn as Charlotte leaned in closer, her voice a mere whisper, "But the most riveting tidbit? There's talk of an engagement with Princess Emily."

"A royal wedding!" Kelly squeaked, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Imagine, we'd be in the thick of the preparations!"

Their excitement was infectious, and Y/n couldn't help but chuckle along, though her heart panged with an emotion she couldn't quite place.

As the hours whisked by, the kitchen transformed into a symphony of scents and flavors under Y/n's skilled direction. In the midst of this orchestrated chaos, Prince Harry made his entrance. Known for his genuine gratitude toward the palace staff, he embarked on his routine of personally thanking the kitchen team, believing in the profound power of simple appreciation.

His presence seemed to electrify the air, and a hush fell over the staff as he made his rounds. Y/n, however, was so engrossed in perfecting her lemon meringue tarts that his arrival went unnoticed, her focus unwavering even as her spatula clattered to the ground.

"Y/n, stand up; he's nearly here," Kelly hissed urgently, nudging her.

Scrambling upright, Y/n's head shot up just in time to lock eyes with the man she'd known as 'Henry'. In that suspended sliver of time, revelations dawned, and worlds collided.

"Y/n..." Harry breathed, the word laced with a cocktail of emotions.

Their connection was palpable, a tangible current in the air. Kelly, sensing the depth of the moment, attempted to bridge the sudden chasm. "Your Majesty, Y/n is our lead baker. Her creations are nothing short of culinary poetry."

But Y/n was anchored in place, her voice barely a whisper, "You're Prince Harry?"

The prince's confirming nod was heavy, burdened with unsaid words and uncharted feelings.

Kelly, ever the protocol expert, interjected, "Y/n, remember, it's 'Your Royal Highness' or 'Your Majesty'."

Betrayal, sharp and unyielding, pierced Y/n's heart. Was she just another nameless face in a sea of admirers? A fleeting fancy before royal duty beckoned?

As Harry opened his mouth to explain, a stern voice cut through the thick tension. "Prince Harry, you are required to dress for the occasion immediately!"

"But I need to—" Harry protested, his plea desperate.

"The Queen will not tolerate tardiness, Your Highness. What importance could this baker possibly hold?" the attendant dismissed, a note of disdain in her tone.

Torn between duty and desire, Harry cast a longing look at Y/n before resigning to his royal obligations. As he strode away, Y/n stood amidst the whirlwind of preparations, her heart a tempest of confusion and disbelief.

As the event unfolded in its regal splendor, Y/n immersed herself in her culinary artistry, a silent storm brewing beneath her calm demeanor. The staff around her exchanged knowing glances, intuitively aware of the unspoken tension between her and the prince, yet they respected her privacy.

The time for the dessert presentation arrived, and with a deep breath to steady her nerves, Y/n emerged from behind the kitchen doors. Her smile was poised as she took her place beside the queen, an intimidating presence at the head of the table, with Harry and Emily on either side.

"Esteemed guests, I am Y/n, your head dessert chef for this evening. It is with great honor that I present to you a beloved treat from my hometown — the lemon meringue tart," she announced, her voice steady, betraying none of the tumult within her heart as the waitstaff unveiled the desserts with a flourish.

"Please, indulge," she invited with a courteous bow, her smile unwavering even as the room filled with the sounds of delighted approval.

"These are exquisite, Y/n. You must grace the royal engagement with this delicacy," the queen declared, her reference to Harry and Emily's impending nuptials causing a visible hitch in Harry's demeanor, manifesting as a cough.

The comment, though painful, didn't shatter Y/n's professional facade. "It would be my utmost honor, Your Majesty," she replied, offering a sweet, yet pained smile, all while avoiding Harry's intense gaze seeking hers.

At that moment, Prince William of Arendelle rose with an air of charisma. "Chef Y/n, I am Prince William of Arendelle. Your talents are extraordinary. I must request a private tasting of your creations," he proposed gallantly, taking her hand and pressing a respectful kiss to it, his forwardness sending a ripple of surprise through her.

"Certainly, Your Highness. Please have your aid arrange it with me," she responded, a hint of nervousness in her tone, yet maintaining decorum.

Harry's response was immediate and laced with a regal possessiveness that was hard to miss. "Prince William, I must insist you respect Chef Y/n's professional boundaries," Harry interjected, his tone courteous yet firm, his posture rigid with barely restrained jealousy.

"But Harry, while you've found your future queen, perhaps I'm in pursuit of my own," William retorted playfully, his smile charming yet impish.

Y/n's laughter was soft, a gentle chime amidst the tension. "Your Highness, your words honor me, but I must return to my duties," she excused herself, retreating to the sanctuary of her kitchen.

he vast parking lot sprawled before Y/n like an echoing chasm of memories. Gently, almost reverently, she began to collect her baking utensils. Thinking heavily about Harry, every whispered secret they shared, became a weight, anchoring her heart. 'Henry' had been a figment of simpler times, while the man before her was a prince, his life mapped out with another's. A burgeoning tide of tears clouded her vision, her emotions a tumultuous storm, each gust and tempest amplifying her despair.

"Y/n..." The timbre of his voice, deep and imbued with a yearning she intimately recognized, echoed through the vast emptiness, as haunting as a lone wolf's cry.

She hesitated, then turned, her inner turmoil palpable. The magnetic pull to seek solace in his embrace was undeniable. Yet, the stark reality of their circumstance was an unyielding barrier. "Your Highness," she uttered softly, her acknowledgment wrapped in the delicate veil of respect, her voice barely more than a whisper carried by the gentle night breeze.

"Y/n, please... Let the formality fall away. To you, I wish to be just Harry," he urged, every ounce of his being poured into the plea, his eyes awash with raw emotion, holding the universe of his feelings.

"Yet the heart I gave was to 'Henry', an ordinary man free from regal constraints," she countered, the anguish evident in her quivering voice. "How can I trust, how can I give myself to 'Harry', when our relationship was birthed from deception?"

Drawing himself to his full stature, yet with vulnerability evident in his posture, he said, "I concede, Y/n. I concealed who I truly was. My regret is immeasurable, a shadow I cannot escape," pausing as his chest heaved, "But understand, every cherished memory, every intimate moment under the guise of 'Henry' was genuine, untarnished by royal obligations. I love you with a fervor that transcends titles, as a man envisioning not just a fleeting moment, but an entire lifetime with you."

Emotion clung to every syllable, creating an unspoken bond. "And Emily?" she dared, her voice laced with the bitter taste of perceived betrayal.

"Emily is a predetermined path, a duty I'm entwined with," he replied, his face a tapestry of conflict. "But it's you who reigns over my heart, the beacon guiding me through the darkest nights. I beg, give me a chance to show my love is untethered to my lineage."

As his heartfelt confession resonated, Y/n's defenses began to crumble. She could discern the sincerity embedded deep within his gaze, feel the undeniable truth resonating in the cadence of his voice. Drawn together as if by some ethereal force, the soft luminescence of the moon bathed them, turning her tear-streaked cheeks into shimmering pathways of emotion. With a gentleness that transcended his princely status, Harry tenderly brushed her tears away, his touch as soft as a lover's caress, his eyes holding a world of promises.

"Y/n, might I be blessed with the privilege of sealing our bond with a kiss?" The very air around them seemed to hold its breath, the night itself awaiting her response. A slight, yet affirmative nod was all the confirmation he needed. Their lips met, a tender collision of souls, of destinies intertwined. It was a fleeting moment that felt like eternity, a dance of passion and promise.

Her voice, delicate yet laced with hope, broke their intimate reverie. "Wanna come home with me?"

His response, though filled with longing, bore the weight of duty. "As much as my heart yearns to, tonight, responsibilities bind me. I must set boundaries with William, especially after witnessing your amusement at his wife's playful jests," he jested, a twinkle in his eyes, cradling her face gently, her laughter echoing like a cherished melody in his heart.

"That laughter, my dearest Y/n, is a tune I wish to be serenaded with, every day, every night. Swear it's reserved solely for me?" His tone was playful, yet underneath lay a depth of emotion that was impossible to feign.

A radiant smile played on her lips, mischief sparkling in her eyes. "Are we sensing a hint of the Jealousy, Prince Harry?"

His feigned sulk was a silent confession of his feelings, but her tender kiss swept it away, leaving only the warmth of their connection. "My heart is irrevocably yours, my very own prince," she whispered, the words a sacred vow between them. A thrill shot through him as she uttered "my prince" — words so simple, yet so profound, marking the first time she had claimed him as her own. He was overwhelmed with devotion; for her, he'd move mountains without a second thought.

They reluctantly parted, their bodies separating like reluctant magnets. As he returned to the palace, Harry's heart lingered behind with Y/n. Entering the regal building, he found his father, the King, awaiting his return, an air of expectancy about him.

"The baker girl has caught your fancy?" the King inquired without preamble. Harry, ever honest, could only nod in affirmation. "I love her," he declared, his voice steady with conviction.

The King let out a disbelieving chuckle. "You're enamored with the baker girl?" he echoed, disappointment evident in his demeanor. "This cannot proceed, Harry. We have arrangements with Princess Emily's family. You're to marry her," he asserted, his voice laced with finality.

"But I don't harbor feelings for Emily. My heart belongs to—"

"Your personal affections are inconsequential!" the King interrupted, his patience fraying. "Our kingdom's welfare, our diplomatic relations, they take precedence. You believe I'd sanction a union between the heir to the throne and a commoner? Imagine the scandal, the uproar in the press. And consider the girl! The crown is a heavy burden — it brings with it relentless scrutiny, harsh judgment, even animosity. Do you believe the public will embrace her? Think of the consequences for Y/n," he argued, his words not just an order but a plea laced with concern.

Harry fell silent, the weight of his father's words, the gravity of the situation, and the potential repercussions for Y/n pressing down on him.

"See the reason, Harry. You must end this dalliance! And let this discussion remain between us; the Queen need not know," the King commanded, his tone softening before he turned on his heel and departed, leaving Harry alone with his turmoil.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #watermelon sugar #fine line

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rosyrosethings · 7 months

Text

Prince Harry.

Word count: 4,533

Summary:Harry is a prince who goes in disguise to a new local bakery in his town. Y/n is a bakery owner who is American and has no idea about the royal family.

A little smut, slow burn, y/n is black.

The soft chime of the doorbell announced a new customer at "Daisy's Confections". Nestled in the quietest part of Albridge town, the bakery was a treasure trove of sugary delights. Freshly baked croissants, intricate pastries, and a variety of cookies lined the shelves, filling the air with a warm and comforting aroma. Everyone in town loved Y/n’s baking. Day by day her baking became more popular.

Even the Prince of Albridge heard of the amazing treats Harry who cant go out with out being noticed. He put on his baseball cap and his shades and his hoodie. He proceeded to try to leave out the palace

"Umm sir where are you going?" Ethan asked him, his bodyguard.

"I am going out alone." He said.

"Looking like a burglar? You know, can get both us in real trouble when you sneak out like that." Ethan said, his job to watch over Harry.

"Ethan I am just going into the town, I promise i will be back soon. If my grandmother or father are looking for me. Just cover for me? Please." He begged, Ethan sighed. Even though he was his bodyguard. They were friends. Ethan nodded as Harry proceeded to leave and make his way to the bakery.

Meanwhile, Behind the counter, Y/n adjusted her bun and dusted flour off her apron as she looked up to greet the newcomer. What she saw took her by surprise—a tall man in a navy-blue hoodie, sporting dark sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low to obscure most of his face. When the skies were clear and the sun was shining. The guy looked as if he was going to rob a bank or something she thought.

"Good morning," she greeted with a bright smile, undeterred by the man's peculiar appearance. "What can I offer you today?" Her American accent clear and crisp.

The stranger cleared his throat. A bit taken back by her beauty. Her dark brown skin glowing with the hint of sunlight shining on her. Her smile radiant. "I've heard a lot about your bakery . And I wanted to know if I could try for myself." He offered, his voice soft and hesitant.

Y/n's eyes sparkled. "Of course!" She slid a fresh cookie onto a plate and passed it to him. "Enjoy!"

As the man took a bite, a sigh escaped him, his posture relaxing. "This is heavenly. Your reputation does you justice," he commented, still maintaining his hidden demeanor.

Blushing slightly at the praise, Y/n couldn't contain her curiosity. "Thank you. I'm Y/n. I haven't seen you around here before."

The man paused, seemingly pondering his response. "I'm Henry. I just moved to Aldridge for... work."

”Nice to meet you Henry,.” she said,

Despite the sunglass's criminal aesthetic Henry had going on. Their conversation flowed effortlessly—from baking to books to dreams. Y/n was drawn to Henry's mysterious charm, and he seemed equally enamored by her passion for baking.Henry became a daily visitor. He always arrived at the same time, always ordered the same cookies.

One day Inside the fragrant cocoon of the bakery's kitchen, Y/n, lost in her own world, worked meticulously on her next masterpiece. Each fold of the dough, each sprinkle of sugar, was a testament to her passion for baking. The warm glow of the kitchen lights accentuated the small puffs of flour that rose every time she kneaded the dough.

As she hummed a soft tune, the creak of the kitchen door interrupted her rhythm. Brianna, her vibrant best friend and invaluable employee, stepped in, her eyes dancing with a familiar mischief.

"Guess who's graced us with his presence again?" she teased, playfully tugging at Y/n's apron.

Pretending to ponder, Y/n smirked, "The mayor? Or perhaps the postman?"

"Very funny," Brianna laughed, "Your very own elusive admirer. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious."

Even though this had become a daily ritual, Y/n's heart still fluttered with anticipation. She hastily grabbed the closest reflective surface—a polished silver spoon—and tried to assess her appearance. "Do I have any flour on my face?"

Brianna chuckled, pulling the spoon away. "You're picture-perfect, as always. Though I'm sure he wouldn’t mind even if you did."

Y/n paused, gathering a breath before her next question, one that had been burning within her. "Bri, does it seem odd that he hasn't made a move yet? No number, no date invitation?"

Brianna leaned against the countertop, contemplating. "Y/n, every person has their pace. Maybe he's from the old school—likes to take his time, savor the moments. Besides," she winked, "anticipation can be quite... enticing."

With renewed hope, Y/n whispered, "Maybe today will be different."

"Only one way to find out." Brianna nudged her forward, propelling her toward the bakery's main floor.

As Y/n stepped out, her eyes instantly found Henry. He sat ensconced in his favorite corner, the overhead lights casting a gentle halo around him. Though his cap shadowed his eyes, Y/n felt them on her, their warmth reaching across the room.

She decided to create a special platter for him today. A medley of freshly baked cookies, each one a testament to her evolving craft, inspired in no small part by his daily visits.

Plate in hand, she approached his table, the world around them blurring into a soft haze. "Henry," she greeted, her voice holding a hint of a tremor.

His lips curled into that familiar heartwarming smile. "Y/n, your presence always makes the day brighter."

Blushing, she playfully retorted, "Smooth talker. Do you say that, for every baker in town?"

His laughter, deep and genuine, filled the room. "Only for those who've enchanted me with their culinary magic. And that list is quite... exclusive." She giggled in response.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, the world outside forgotten. Y/n shared stories of her family, her dreams, her love for Albridge. The town held a special place in her heart, with tales passed down from her grandmother about their ancestral bakery and the magic of this place.

Henry listened intently, his gaze never wavering. Every now and then, he'd share snippets of his own life, though always maintaining a shroud of mystery around his origins and profession. They soon transitioned to talking about the Royal family.

In a whispered confession, Y/n admitted, "Dont tell anyone but I might be a bit clueless about Albridge's high society. I wouldn't recognize the prince or princess even if they walked right in."

Henry's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Your secret's safe with me."

Their intimate bubble was punctured by the intrusive ring of Henry's phone. From Y/n's vantage point, she could see the caller ID read "URGENT." The color drained slightly from Henry's face as he answered, his voice hushed yet tense.

Y/n sensed his urgency, and although her heart sank, she quickly packed his cookies. On a whim, she tucked her business card inside, scribbling her personal number on the back.

"I have to go," he murmured, regret evident in his voice.

"oh. Okay," she nodded, trying to mask her disappointment. "Hope everything's okay."

He hesitated, then leaned closer. "I promise to explain someday. But for now," he glanced at the bag, then back at her, a soft promise in his eyes, "thank you."

With that, he rushed out, leaving Y/n with a myriad of emotions and questions. She clutched the empty plate, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

Upon returning to the palace, Harry gingerly placed the bag of cookies on his ornate desk. His princely duties called, and it was several hours of meetings and paperwork before he could think of relaxing. As evening fell, he retreated to the solitude of his chambers, his thoughts drifting to Y/n and the time they shared.

With a sense of anticipation, he opened the bag, his eyes drawn to a little card nestled among the cookies. Confused, he picked it up and inspected it. It bore the details of Y/n’s bakery on one side, and on the flip side, scribbled in elegant handwriting, was a number. A grin slowly spread across his face, his heart inexplicably racing.

Quickly he keyed in the number on his phone, pressing it to his ear.

A muffled shriek, followed by a giggle, sounded on the other end before a familiar voice answered, "Hello?"

"Is this the enchanting Y/n?" He teased, recognizing her voice instantly.

Her playful retort came quickly, "Depends on who's asking."

Feigning seriousness, he said, "I happened upon a card with a number in my cookie bag, and I must say that's a rather forward approach, don't you think?"

She chuckled, "Well, perhaps if a certain someone took the hint and asked for my number, I wouldn't have to resort to such tactics."

Henry laughed, "Has it been that obvious that my visits are less about the cookies and more about seeing you?"

She replied with a smirk evident in her voice, "Oh, completely. You make it so obvious by insisting that only I serve you. Though I must admit, I eagerly await your visits."

He could almost visualize her blushing. Taking a deep breath, he knew what he had to do next. "Y/n," he began, his voice suddenly more serious, "Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tomorrow evening?"

Her response came without hesitation, "I'd love to."

Cloaked in the dim, romantic lighting of the restaurant, hidden from the prying world outside, Harry sat, bereft of his usual incognito accessories — no glasses, no hat. His heart thrummed a nervous beat in his chest, the absence of his familiar disguise rendering him more exposed than he'd been in a long while. "What if she doesn't see me the same way?" This fear looped incessantly in his mind, the vulnerability raw and unyielding. He was acutely aware that his royal identity held no sway with Y/n, her American roots placing her pleasantly outside the sphere of his family's fame.

The antique door hinges emitted a faint squeak, heralding her arrival. Harry's breath hitched as he pivoted to face her. Y/n was a vision — her red dress clung to her in all the right places, accentuating her graceful silhouette, the rich color gloriously offsetting her smooth, dark skin. Her hair, pulled back in a playful ponytail, featured a red ribbon that danced as she moved. It was a simple touch but one that showcased her attention to detail, her personal flair.

"Henry, you're... wow, you're so handsome," Y/n breathed out, a hint of awe lacing her tone as her gaze took him in, unshielded for the first time. The genuineness of her compliment eased the tight coil of anxiety in his chest, even if just a little.

He couldn't help but smile, the gesture reaching his eyes, bright with appreciation. "Thank you, Y/n. But tonight, you're the breathtaking one." He motioned towards her chair, their hands brushing during the process — an electric moment of contact that sent a jolt through them both.

As they settled into their seats, Y/n's curiosity bubbled to the surface. "Henry, I've always wondered... why the mystery? You have these striking features, almost like those runway models."

His laughter was a nervous flutter in the air. "Oh, thank you. I guess I value my privacy more than most," Harry admitted, the truth but not the whole truth.

She reached across the table, her hand an anchor in the sea of his uncertainties. "Well, you're downright gorgeous, Henry."

Heart pounding louder, he met her sincerity. "I feel the same about you," he whispered, the words thick with unspoken emotions.

Their connection deepened as they delved into further conversation. However, Y/n's next question caught him off-guard, "This place is quite upscale, Henry. What do you do, if you don't mind my asking?"

A pause. A rapid calculation. "I work with the royal family," he said, each word carefully weighed yet truthful within its own context.

"That's fascinating! What's your role there?" she pressed, excitement tinting her words.

"I handle their public relations," he replied swiftly, relief flooding him as he realized his answer remained within the bounds of his actual royal obligations.

Eager to steer away from the precipice of his secret, Harry shifted topics. "Y/n, you once spoke of the precise science behind your baking. What's been your greatest challenge in that regard?"

Her face transformed, the passion for her craft igniting her features. "Definitely the croquembouche. Mastering the caramel, achieving the flawless consistency... it was daunting but so rewarding to see the final structure."

Harry hung on her every word, her fervor, her dedication — it was enthralling. "You're a true artist, Y/n. Your commitment is nothing short of inspiring."

They wove through topics, from his 'studies' — a guise for his royal duties — to her culinary adventures. Laughter rang clear, opinions clashed and melded, and an unmistakable bond tethered them closer with each passing moment. Y/n's authenticity, her vivacious spirit, was a breath of fresh air in Harry's constrained, regal world.

As the evening's end drew inevitably closer, their departure loomed like a shadow, the joy of the night tinged with a hint of sorrow. Harry's heart felt heavy with unspoken truths, yet the warmth in her touch, the genuine affection in her smile, sparked a flicker of hope. Reluctantly, he escorted her to her car, each step punctuated with a silent promise to hold onto the night's magic just a little longer.

"Tonight was something out of a movie, Henry," she whispered, leaning casually yet alluringly against the driver's door, her eyes glistening under the starlit sky as she gazed up at him.

"And I, Y/n, am keenly awaiting the sequel," he replied earnestly, the depth of his emotions veiled beneath his words. He positioned his hand atop the car, his frame leaning towards her, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air.

"me too," she responded, her eyes briefly flitting to his lips, an action not missed by him. A subtle smirk graced his features; gently, he cradled her chin with his hand, drawing her in for a kiss. Their lips met, a perfect synchronization of breath and desire. As the kiss deepened, it surged with an intensity that was both thrilling and overwhelming, her arms winding around his neck, his finding a natural place around her waist.

Abruptly, Harry broke the kiss, the realization hitting him that despite the restaurant's exclusivity, they were still in a public place vulnerable to prying eyes.

"It's late; you should head home," he murmured, though the words tasted bitter, his own disappointment mirroring hers.

She gazed up at him, her eyes a mix of understanding and a hint of sadness. "Yes, you're right," she agreed softly, the reluctance evident in her voice as she slowly unwrapped her arms from his embrace.

"I promise, it's not about you," he reassured her, sensing her thoughts. His hand lingered on her waist for a moment longer before he stepped back, his lips pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. "I'm just a private person, love. But tomorrow, I'm all yours," he affirmed, opening the car door for her.

She nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, understanding yet yearning evident in her eyes. As she settled into the driver's seat, their eyes locked once more, a silent vow exchanged. With a final wave, she pulled away, and he stood there, watching the distance grow, their shared kiss a promise of what was yet to come.

The following day found Y/n in her bakery, the air sweet with the scent of pastries, but Henry was conspicuously absent. It was Sunday, and business hours were drawing to a close. Deciding to close up early, she sent her employees home, the clock ticking down the final ten minutes. Y/n tried to brush off the disappointment gnawing at her heart, but "a little upset" didn't begin to cover it. She felt a sting of abandonment. After a magical date, his absence felt like a stark rebuttal. Was he ghosting her? The thought nagged at her, an unwelcome lump forming in her throat.

The gentle tinkle of the entrance bell barely registered in her preoccupied mind. Without raising her eyes from the counter she was absently wiping, she called out, "I apologize, but we're closing. Please, feel free to visit us tomorrow when we—"

"But what if I'm acquainted with the owner?" a familiar voice interjected, its warm timbre instantly lifting her spirits.

Y/n's head shot up, her heart skipping a beat. There stood Henry, an apologetic smile playing on his lips. Relief washed over her, and she couldn't help but smile back.

"I was worried you'd decided to ditch me," she confessed, her voice tinged with residual concern yet a smile brightening her expression.

"Ditch you? I would never," he declared as he sauntered confidently toward her, coming around to her side of the counter. Without hesitation, he grasped the strings of her apron, tugging her gently but insistently closer, and sealed his words with a kiss.

"I've missed you immensely," he murmured against her lips, his breath warm and reassuring. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since last night, especially yearning for another kiss." He said, she pulled away slightly.

"How about we just retreat to my place and unwind with a movie?" she proposed, the corners of her mouth lifting in a hopeful smile. His response was a grin that didn't just reach his eyes but seemed to light them from within. "That sounds like an evening well spent, beautiful," he agreed warmly.

Thus, they transitioned from the day's close, with Harry lending a hand as Y/n locked up the bakery for the night. Together, they ascended the stairs to her apartment, nestled conveniently above her beloved shop. The door swung open to reveal a charming, intimately spaced two-bedroom abode, every nook a testament to Y/n's simple yet cozy taste.

Bri, her roommate, emerged from the kitchen, her attention glued to her phone screen. "Y/n, you're back earlier than I expected. I know you were upset that Henry didn't drop by today, but maybe —" Her words stumbled to a halt as her gaze flicked upwards, colliding with the sight of Y/n accompanied by an unfamiliar figure. The man's striking features were undeniably alluring, leaving Bri momentarily speechless.

"You're... you're Henry?" Bri stammered, her initial shock transitioning into a mix of surprise and immediate appreciation for his almost ethereal good looks.

"Yes, I am. It's a pleasure to meet you under more formal circumstances," Harry replied with a courteous smile. Though they'd crossed paths when he visited the shop, he'd always have on the shades, baseball cap, and a hoodie.

Flustered yet amused by the unexpected revelation, Bri quickly gathered herself. "Well, I'll just forget I was about to say anything. I’ll leave you two alone," she quipped, snatching a few snacks before darting a playful, exaggerated 'HE'S GORGEOUS!' mime to Y/n and scampering toward the sanctuary of her room.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, then gestured apologetically at Bri's retreating figure. "Sorry about her," she said, a sheepish grin tugging at her lips as she guided him to the living room sofa.

"Don't be. She seems wonderful," Harry reassured, his laughter a soft melody in the homely space. They settled into the couch, the familiar proximity a bubble of comfort. Y/n seized the remote, her fingers dancing over the buttons as she browsed through an extensive list of titles across various streaming platforms. Harry's gaze lingered on her, admiration evident in his eyes. Even in profile, she was a captivating canvas he couldn't draw his eyes away from.

"Alright, romance it is!" Y/n announced, her decision punctuating the comfortable silence. She selected a film known for its heartfelt narrative, the screen brightening as it played.

"You can never go wrong with a compelling love story," Harry concurred, his arm instinctively draping over her shoulders, drawing her into the curve of his side. Though she leaned into his embrace, her eyes were steadfast on the screen, a slight tension in her posture. He sensed a reticence in her, a vulnerability perhaps kindled by the day's earlier disappointments.

She was a tempest of emotions, desire mingling with the fear of rejection. So she fixated on the unfolding romance on-screen, a safe harbor in the storm of her heart — hoping the distance of her gaze would shield her from the urge to lean into the warmth of the man whose presence had become her solace.

Harry, intuitively attuned to her, couldn't help but notice the subtle rigidity in her posture, the way her eyes studiously avoided meeting his. He understood her unspoken hesitance, her internal struggle. Deciding to gently challenge the barriers she'd put up, he allowed himself a small, inward smirk before deliberately shifting his approach.

With a feathery lightness, his hand found its way to her thigh, fingertips grazing the fabric of her black leggings in a slow, reassuring rhythm. He could feel the minute stiffening of her muscles under his touch, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected contact.

"Is this alright, love?" he inquired, his voice low, a tender undercurrent beneath the words. She offered a mute nod, her gaze obstinately fixed on the flickering images on the TV screen, though he could sense her attention fracturing.

Respecting her boundaries yet wanting to bridge the chasm that had formed between them, Harry retracted his hand from her leg. With a gentleness that belied the strength in his fingers, he guided her chin, encouraging her face to turn towards his.

"I want to see your eyes when we're speaking," he murmured, the request uttered not as a command but as a plea laced with affection. The soft intensity in his voice coaxed her to swallow her uncertainties, prompting her to offer a timid nod and finally allow her eyes to meet his.

In the sanctuary of their shared gaze, he leaned forward, diminishing the space that separated them. And when his lips finally captured hers, it wasn't just a kiss but a communion, a silent reassurance that she was heard, understood, and cherished exactly as she was. His dominance making her wetter and wetter. His hand started to make its way in between her legs. Her pussy aching for his touch since last night. His hand slid in her leggings over her panties. His fingers slid over the slit. Feeling her wetness through the thin fabric. He pulled apart from the kiss and looked at her

"You're so wet love, all this for me?" He asked, there foreheads together. Looking into each other eyes.

"Yes, I've wanted you for so long." She said, he slid her panties to the side and he inserted his fingers into her. Causing her to gasp slightly.

"Mmm so wet and tight for me baby." He said as he slid in another finger.

"Ohh fuck. He-." He cut her off with a kiss. Not wanting her to say his fake name. He moved his fingers in her going a at a steady pace. Her hand found it way to his hair slightly tugging at his curls. She was so mesmerized by his fingers. She never had a man make her cum with his hand. His other hand slid behind her back. Grabbing her by her waist pulling her into his lap. Her to his chest as he continued to finger fuck her

"I-I'm gonna c-"

"Shh baby, just let it happen. Cum all over my fingers. " he whispered in her ear. She couldn't hold it anymore. She came all over his hand. He took his hand out her pants licking his two fingers clean. "You taste good." He whispered.

"Henry, you're so dominant. I wasn't expecting that at all." She said, getting off his lap right on side. Sitting on her knees to face him.

"Why didn't you expect it?" He asked raising his brow.

"You're very proper, you always look like you come from a polo match. And you speak like a thesaurus was read to you before you went to sleep." She said looking at him.

A genuine, light-hearted chuckle escaped him, the sound sophisticated yet endearing. "I can't decipher if I should be flattered or slightly affronted by that observation," he admitted, his lips twisting in a playful grimace.

"How about we forget what i just said pick up where we left off?" She said, leaning in for a kiss.

Their lips met, a brief but charged interaction. Harry, however, pulled back sooner than she anticipated. "I’m rather spent, my love. What do you say we retire for the evening?" His proposal was tender, his British lilt prominent, as he took her hand with gentle nobility. She nodded, laying on top of him. Her head snuggled on his shoulder.

The following day found Y/n steering clear of the bakery, opting instead for chores and errands — perhaps partly because she needed a distraction from Henry's absence. He'd informed her he wouldn't be around, tied up with obligations to the crown. The news had left a dull ache in her chest; she was already tumbling headlong into this unexpected romance.

While she was dusting, her phone hummed with an incoming email, pulling her attention. She tapped the notification hurriedly.

"Dear Y/n,

My name is Maria, and I serve as the primary event planner for the royal family. Your bakery has garnered quite the reputation as the finest in the city. We are thrilled to extend an invitation for you to showcase your renowned baked delights at the royal banquet this coming Saturday! Kindly respond at your earliest convenience so we may finalize the particulars.

Warm regards,

Maria"

Y/n's heart practically leapt out of her chest. Fingers flying, she crafted a prompt reply, her excitement bubbling over.

Meanwhile, Harry was waging a war within himself. He was drawn to her, undeniably, yet shackled by the weight of royal expectations. He understood all too well that his family would hardly endorse his entanglement with a baker, no matter her charm. They likely had grand matrimonial designs already in the works. However, in his mind's eye, it was a future with Y/n that he envisioned.

Dinner that evening was a formal affair, as always. Henry sat rigidly between his grandmother and father, his mind drifting incessantly back to the woman who was slowly but surely captivating his heart. He barely registered the meal served by the diligent staff, offering them a distracted word of gratitude.

The conversation inevitably veered toward his marital prospects. "Harry, time isn't on your side indefinitely. You must consider marriage," his father pressed, his tone brooking no argument.

But Harry, ever the "defiant" one in royal terms, wasn’t swayed. "The kingdom doesn't require a queen by my side to thrive," he countered calmly, though he could sense his father’s growing frustration.

"The royal banquet is this Saturday," his grandmother interjected with diplomatic timing, "We've arranged for you to be seated next to Princess Emma."

Henry exhaled slowly, a respectful bow of his head acknowledging her words, though it did little to quell the rebellion simmering within him. "As you wish, Grandmother." His acquiescence was polite, devoid of enthusiasm, his thoughts adrift with visions of a certain baker and the what-ifs she brought along.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #watermelon sugar #fine line #harrys house #prince harry

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rosyrosethings · 8 months

Text

Fratboy!Harry Part 4

summary: the two-week challenge journey... and the result

warning: smut, oral (f recieving), fingering, rim job (f recieving), dirty talk, degredation

word count: 7k+

author’s note: You get a little more insight into Harry in this one... hope you enjoy!

part 1 part 2 part 3

- Find my General Masterlist here -

You didn't hear from Harry until you saw him at the next frat party you attended, which didn't surprise you at all. If he did reach out, it only would've been to admit defeat to your little challenge.

If you took away frat parties and weekends, you figured he'd last three days max. Though considering you two hooked up on Tuesday night, and his fraternity usually has parties Thursday through Sunday, he'd probably lose sooner than you thought.

There was just no way Harry could host his own party and not hook up with someone. The idea in itself was laughable.

To be honest, you didn't really understand why he was so adamant about being fuck buddies with you in the first place. He literally could have and did have whoever he wanted around campus so why he wanted to drop all that and have you was mind-boggling.

If it were anyone but Harry you may have been a little flattered by the idea... that someone could want you so bad they'd simply stop doing their hobby (because at this point sex was Harry's hobby) to be with you.

But considering it was an annoying, self-absorbed frat boy who most definitely had a drinking problem like every other man on this campus, you were the opposite of flattered. Annoyed summed it up in one word, possibly intrigued depending on your mood.

More so, you were just finding the whole thing hilarious and you were looking forward to seeing him crash and burn. Honestly, if you were in his shoes there was no way you'd be giving up hot sex with whoever you wanted over one person. Why limit yourself when you didn't need to?

Maybe this is why you weren't in a relationship...

You had to admit it though, sex with Harry was otherworldly. Trying to find someone who met up with his skills once this whole thing blew up like you knew it would was going to be near impossible.

Maybe you'd mourn it a little once you finished relishing in the success of witnessing Harry fail.

Was it evil to wish for his downfall? Maybe. But you weren’t wanting him to fail his degree (whatever it was) or get injured, you didn’t dislike him that much. Although sometimes you did mentally plot his murder after one of his stupid comments.

If anything you were wishing for him to actually give in to his desires and go fuck someone else, something Harry clearly enjoys. So really, you were doing him a favour by manifesting his cock winding up inside someone who wasn’t you.

After missing Thursday and Friday's parties, opting to stay in and go to Sophie's sorority party instead, you started to hear whispers... or a very loud recount about what you missed.

"Y/n! You have no idea what happened last night!" Libby exclaimed, running up to your spot on the grass from across the quad. You looked up away from your laptop as she practically collapsed on the ground next to you, dumping the contents of her backpack onto your picnic rug.

"What?" you asked, shutting your laptop to eagerly hear whatever gossip she had for you.

Libby usually accompanied you to all the parties you went to, but last night she went to Harry's with her boyfriend instead of Sophie's, so you were dying to hear what had happened.

Harry hadn't reached out yet, so he was probably too embarrassed about being wrong and sleeping with someone to tell you about it right away. Made sense. He did seem very sure that he'd be able to go two weeks without sex so you'd be embarrassed too if you lost.

"Harry didn't hook up with anyone!..."

Wait...What?

"You're kidding" you gaped, looking at her with a gaped mouth.

She nodded and opened a bag of chips she brought, holding the bag out to you. You grabbed a handful and shoved a heap in your mouth, still not believing that Harry didn't hook up with anyone last night.

"Nope, not even a makeout! He did flirt with a few people from what I've heard... I was a bit busy with Sam to notice, but yeah-didn't sleep with a single person!" her eyes widened as she recounted the story, your head shaking with the information.

"What about Thursday? Do you know anything about that?" you asked, not giving anything away about your personal interest in the matter.

Libby, nor anyone else was going to find out about your deal, or the potential friends-with-benefits situation with Harry. You were going to take it to your grave even if it killed you.

"Well, I haven't heard anyone recount their 'magical night with harry'..." she quoted with a laugh, eliciting a laugh from you in response. "...So I'm guessing not."

Libby loved drama like the next girl, but she also happened to find the whole Harry fan club irritating and hilarious like you did. There were only so many times you could hear about his 'magic tongue' before it got boring. It got boring two years ago.

How could you be wrong? Had Harry seriously gone three nights already without sleeping with someone?

You honestly didn't believe it, maybe that's just what people think they saw. Drunk minds usually spun stories around to make them sound juicier and more exciting than it actually happened.

But if no one had been boasting about their night with Harry...

You had to see it for yourself, witness with your own eyes that fuckboy really hasn't been hooking up with anyone.

"Maybe he's got chlamydia" you shrugged, the excuse slipping out easily. Libby burst out laughing and nodded her head in agreement, talking with her mouth full of chips.

"Probably, there's no other reason for him not to fuck around"

That night you third-wheeled with Libby and Sam to Harry's party. You never really planned to stay with them long so it didn't bother you when they disappeared into the crowd.

Before you could even get a drink in you, hands grabbed onto your hips from behind and a strong tall body pressed against you. You knew it was Harry before he even spoke, his spicy cologne invading your senses like a drug. Part of you hated how delicious he smelt because the other part loved it and wanted it to consume you.

Anything that made you felt like that made your insides twist and scream for you to run in the opposite direction.

"Thank fucking god you're wearing a dress right now... come on" Harry groaned in your ear, nudging you forward and taking large steps so you were forced to walk wherever he was guiding you.

"Harry what are you doing?" you hissed, looking around to see if anyone was noticing your little encounter as you walked up the stairs. Thankfully everyone was already too drunk to notice that the two of you were even walking past them.

He didn't respond, making you increasingly irritated as you both entered his room. You spun around immediately to face him when he closed the door and locked it behind him.

"What!? What do you want!?" your voice faltered at the end when you saw the deep look of hunger in his eyes. They were dark, almost black as he looked you up and down.

"Sit on my face"

"What? No." you snapped, the answer coming out like muscle memory. Anything he requested was an immediate ‘no’ in your mind.

You crossed your arms over your chest once you processed what he actually said. You should've been accustomed to his bluntness when it came to sex, but you were momentarily stunned by the look he was giving you. It was enough to send shivers down your spine and wetness straight to your panties.

"I haven't tasted pussy in like 5 days, I'm starving and I've missed your sweet little cunt..." you followed him with your eyes as he pulled off his t-shirt from the back and walked past you to sit on the bed. "Now, sit on my face" he laid down and clasped his hands over his bare chest, expecting you to go over there and climb on him.

To be honest, you were already wet between your thighs and the idea of riding his face was insanely appealing. But this wasn't part of the deal. 'No sex with anyone' included you and as horny as you were, you weren't about to ruin this whole plan over getting an orgasm.

It might've been easier to just say 'fuck it' and climb on, making him lose. But part of you wanted him to suffer a little... or a lot. If he was already struggling after three days, two whole weeks was going to kill him.

For once, the mental satisfaction of this situation would've been more pleasing than Harry's magic tongue. 'Magic tongue’, fucking hell were you riding on the Harry train like everyone else in this college?

"No dickhead, this no-sex thing includes me. If you can go three days without it, I'm sure you can go two weeks"

Harry propped his upper body up with his forearms, giving you a pained look "Come onnnn, I'm literally offering you multiple orgasms and you're saying no? This is literally beneficial to you" he whined.

It was only now that you noticed the bandana tied around his head, submerged in his beautiful curls that you suddenly pictured all ruffled from your tugging. God... sitting on his face really did sound good.

Focus. Fucking hell, focus.

"Beneficial or not, If I sit on your face you immediately lose. Is that really what you want?" you asked, raising a brow at him. He huffed and looked you up and down.

"Fuckk" he groaned, collapsing back onto his bed. "and you're sure that you're included in this no sex with anyone rule?" he asked, raising just his head up to look at you.

"Yes. But hey, if you're ready to forfeit I'll climb up" you shrugged, going to remove your underwear from under your dress. You knew he'd say no, he was too proud to lose now that he knew the rules. Messing with him was fucking hilarious no.

"No!" he held out a hand in a stop motion, propping himself back up onto his elbows. "I'll be strong and resist, the prize is so much more delicious anyway. I already know all the different positions I'll have you in once I win" he gloated, taking a lazy look at you up and down.

"I doubt you'll make it that far, but have fun imagining it" you twinkled your fingers at him as a goodbye then spun on your heels and exited the room. You heard him yell out a 'wait', but ignored it and continued on your journey downstairs.

"You wanna dance at least?" you heard him ask way too close to your ear for you to be comfortable with. You snorted at his request, and at how fast he managed to catch up to you. You waded through the sea of people into the kitchen, trying to find the nearest alcohol available.

"Fuck no. Now go find some lonely person to hook up with so I can live in peace" you tried to ignore his presence, grabbing an empty solo cup from a stack and pouring a bit of vodka in it.

Harry pressed himself against your back, making your stomach bump against the kitchen counter as you searched for some type of mixer. Ignoring his presence was hard, especially with his warm, toned body pressed against you. You could practically feel every ridge of his abs through his shirt and it was incredibly distracting.

You couldn't deny that you were attracted to him, as much as you wanted to. He was so sexy it was infuriating. If only he didn't open his mouth, maybe then you'd be more willing to get involved with him.

"You need to stop acting like you want me to lose," he said against your ear, brushing your hair back over your shoulder so it was exposed to him. His other hand gripped the edge of the counter, close enough for it to bump up against your hip.

You didn't reply, despite the erratic beating of your heart at how close he was. "We both know you want my cock again y/n, that you want my tongue all in your little cunt" he groaned in your ear, unable to resist grabbing your hip.

God, you were so mean to him but he found it so fucking sexy he couldn't help himself. He'd have you degrade him and spit on him any day.

Settling on grabbing an unopened can of Redbull for your mixer, you poured it in and tried to ignore the pulsing of your clit. His words had a greater effect on you than you would've liked.

You closed your eyes momentarily and took in a deep breath to try and control yourself before spinning around once your drink was mixed. Harry's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected movement.

"How about this Harry, you enjoy your little delusion party over there" you pointed over his shoulder, "and I'll enjoy the normal party in the opposite direction" you flashed a fake smile and patted his chest, "Have fun"

You slid out from your place against the bench and looked around, praying that no one saw how close he got to you. You made yourself disappear into the crowd before he could catch up with you again, breathing out a sigh of relief when you no longer felt his lingering gaze.

You managed to avoid any more interactions with Harry for the rest of the night, keeping yourself distracted by finding your other friends and talking to one of your ex-hookups. Overall, it was a pretty successful night and you managed to get yourself home all in one piece without any missing underwear.

The weekend went by fast and without a single word from Harry, and no new hookup updates from any of his fan club. Libby was still in shock at how he had stayed celibate for the entire weekend, and frankly so were you.

He seemed so adamant about winning your little bet when you spoke to him at the party, but you still thought he'd give in when someone hot tried to seduce him. It was making you sweat a little, you couldn't lie.

It was Tuesday before you decided to bite the bullet and reach out to him first, an entire week since your last hookup and the beginning of this whole charade. You honestly couldn't help yourself.

You tried to ignore it, but no word from Harry was stressing you out, and you were itching to know whether he had lost yet. Part of you knew he hadn't, because word would've spread like wildfire if he fucked someone after his mysterious break.

You: have you lost yet?

Rumours were spreading like wildfire about why Harry hadn't fucked anyone yet, especially since his reputation was quite an infamous one. Some were going with the STD theory which you joked about with Libby, others were saying that he finally got himself a secret girlfriend and was staying loyal.

You cackled when you heard that theory, although it wasn't that much of a stretch from reality. No one would've guessed that he had been bet not to have sex to become friends with benefits with you, which you were severely glad about.

Honestly, you didn't know what you were going to do if he actually did win. You were already a week in and so far he was going strong, so what's to say he couldn't last another?

Small dick: fuck no Small dick: I've got the bluest fucking balls on the planet and it's all your fault

His reply came entirely too fast, but you couldn't help but reply equally as fast.

You: go cry to someone else about it 🍼 You: better yet, go fuck someone and get rid of the problem You: easy solution imo

You quickly forgot all about your latest assignment, another one that you had severely procrastinated on. It was due next week, part of your mathematics class you had to take to make up for missing credits for your degree. You hated maths, mostly because it made zero sense to you, but it was the only free class.

You had more of a creative brain. Give you an essay analysis or art piece to complete and you'd ace the fuck out of it. Maths however was not your forte, hence why you were avoiding it at all costs.

Small dick: are you volunteering? 👅

You: you wish

Small dick: I do Small dick: keep thinking about how good you feel around me. Small dick: Can't stop 😩

Another message came a minute later, while you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that he was basically sexting you right now.

Small dick: Fuck I'm already hard

You let out an audible groan at his message, rubbing your eyes as you dropped your phone onto your lap. You hated how worked up you were getting at his messages, your clit already aching for attention. Just knowing he was hard for you was making your head spin and you were growing agitated at your own horniness.

You: oh really? You: go wank then.

You muted his contact after that, not wanting the notifications of whatever he decided to reply with. You just needed to get your mind away from Harry and the shitshow that this whole thing was turning into.

You were becoming way too interested in him and his actions and it was starting to bother you. Every day you were asking Libby or someone else if they knew what Harry was up to and if there were any latest conquests.

Fucking hell, you even texted him first because you were dying to know. And now here you were, turned on by a mere text that he sent.

Despite wanting to keep your mind away from him, memories of all your hookups started playing in your head like a movie and you found yourself with your hand in your underwear.

The way he devoured you with his mouth, sucking and nibbling until you came not once but twice on his tongue was engraved in your brain. You had never experienced head like that in your entire life. Fuck, and the way he knew exactly how to use his cock, thrusting and grinding perfectly to stimulate your internal and external pleasure points at the same time.

You were gasping out in pleasure within minutes, your orgasm coming faster than you ever expected. It always took you ages to come from just your fingers, yet just thinking of Harry managed to lead you to orgasm within minutes.

There had to be some way to get rid of this... hold he had on you. You already tried to sleep with someone else to get him out of your head and it didn't work, so the chance of it working after a second attempt was slim.

At this point, all you could do was hope that he failed so you could avoid getting into bed with him and strengthening your growing interest in him. Because that's exactly what it was. Interest. And that's exactly what you wanted to avoid, especially for someone as idiotic and annoying as Harry Styles.

Harry was slowly losing his mind. His head heart. His body hurt. His cock hurt. Fuck and his balls felt like they were on fire. It felt like withdrawal symptoms of the strongest drug on the planet. He had never gone this long without sex since the night he lost his virginity.

Having sex is different than wanking off to porn and young Harry quickly became obsessed once he actually experienced it for himself. He was shit at first. So is anyone the first time they learn a new skill. But he had a good teacher... many good teachers, some bad too, and with practice, he honed his skills and became the man he is today.

Sex became something he did when he was bored, when he was lonely, horny of course, also when he was sad or stressed, or when he just felt like it. Sex became his answer for everything, and 9/10 times it worked. Alcohol never fixed his ailments like sex did.

Yet he gave it all up for you. Two weeks for your average person may not seem like a super long time to be celibate. But Harry had been having sex a minimum of three times (most weeks it was a lot more than three) a week since he lost his virginity when he was 16.

Going from that to nothing felt like torture. He missed pussy. He missed ass. Fuck, he missed a nice warm mouth... a wet tongue.

Was it worth it? Harry thought so. Despite sex being a physically satisfying solution to basically all his problems, it wasn't always mentally stimulating.

Frankly, he was bored. Yes... Harry Styles was bored of his (over) active sex life. You seemed to bring enjoyment and a bit of life back into it, which he was desperately craving.

You didn't fall at his feet like everyone else. You were snarky and mean, but you were also incredibly hot and all your degradations were a major turn-on in his eyes. He liked the bite and loved the challenge.

You talked back in bed and took control and he frothed over it. The chemistry you two had was undeniable and frankly, Harry had never felt anything like it before. It went beyond this sexual pull you seemed to have with each other, despite the fact that you pushed him away in every other aspect.

You thought he was this one-dimensional sex-crazed idiot, and Harry did nothing to correct your assumptions of him. He knew what you and the majority of the campus thought of him.

Everyone thought sex and stupid frat parties were the only things he cared about. And yeah, he fucking loved sex and a good party. But the only reason he was in a frat in the first place was because he was a legacy and the only way his father was going to help him out with college tuition was if he continued it.

He would've been happy going to college and living in a dorm like most of the student population. He liked studying and he liked learning, and when it was just him and his frat brothers left in the house that's what he did.

He was blessed with a high IQ, and even as a child school came easy to him. School is enjoyable when you find it easy, and Harry passed all his classes with flying colours even when he didn't try. So just like school, sex became equally as easy and equally as enjoyable.

Being in a frat wasn't what he initially thought his college experience would be, but he sure as hell was going to take advantage of the opportunity. He had people from all backgrounds basically begging him to sleep with them, and who was he to deprive them of such an experience?

Harry fucking loved making people come. He loved sounds of pleasure, faces of pleasure. He loved pushing people's boundaries and bringing them to their limits, infusing pain with their pleasure until it was a sick twisted cocktail of stimulation.

He wanted to do that with you. These quick little hookups you had so far weren't nearly enough for Harry. That's why he was so adamant about winning your little bet. Because the things he wanted to do you couldn't be done in the middle of a party, or in between Harry's hookups with other people.

He wanted time with you and he wanted to know your body like the back of his hand. He had already picked up little things about your pleasure points and the things you liked, but he wanted to know what made your mind tick too.

He was fascinated by you.

So despite the perpetual ache in his cock and your body constantly on his mind, he made it through the two weeks.

The two of you had been texting continuously since you reached out first, something that thrilled Harry to no end. You were riled up so easily, spilling curse words and ill wishes to him barely a minute into any conversation you had. Yet you kept coming back time after time and Harry knew it was because you were growing interested in him like he already was in you.

You on the other hand were either screaming at yourself for entertaining him or throwing your phone across the room at something he said. But with each ding on your phone (you had muted him and unmuted him a dozen times at this point), you kept reaching back for your phone and coming up with some other hateful comment to respond to him.

You couldn't help yourself. The days were ticking by slowly, each a day closer to the two-week mark of your challenge and these daily conversations you had with him reminded you of that.

You decided against going to any frat parties that weekend, not wanting to see Harry in person. He texted you each time you failed to show up. He was taunting you, teasing you and making sure you knew how excited and prepared he was for it to reach Tuesday.

This entire time you were just wishing that he'd fail so you wouldn't have to face the consequences of your own actions. You were embarrassed that you were once again wrong about him and fearful of what a friends-with-benefits situation would lead to.

You could've said no to him, and Harry wouldn't have pressured you into giving in. But at this point, you both knew that you weren't going to say no, or push him away.

You hated yourself for feeling the way you did, and you knew damn well you were going to take it out on him. You didn't back down from a challenge and you weren't a sore loser. There was no chance you were making it easy for him though, you weren't about to just lie back and let him stick it in you the first opportunity he got.

Harry hadn't texted you all day. It was already halfway through the day and there wasn't a single text gloating about his win. You were itching to find out if he had made it and tempted to text him first because you couldn't handle waiting any longer.

Maybe... had Harry lost? Was that why there wasn't any news from him since last night?

You were so close to reaching for your phone until a hurried knock echoing through your door stopped you. The universe was clearly telling you that texting Harry was fucking stupid.

You got up and went to answer it, thinking Libby just forgot her keys or one of your neighbours needed something. "Harry? What are you doing here?" your stomach dropped at the sight of him in all his fratboy glory.

You didn't expect him to just show up out of the blue, and your usual irritation by his presence was replaced with nerves. Nerves. Harry was making you fucking nervous.

Harry smirked and kicked off from where he was leaning against the doorway, "Came to claim my prize, baby"

"You're kidding. I'm not a fucking prize Harry... besides, how do I even know you won?" you scoffed, trying real hard to hide the butterflies in your stomach.

He stalked inside and you stepped back to try and avoid all contact with him. His brow rose at your movement as he looked around your room for something.

"I thought you'd know if I won or not, or do you need to feel my blue balls for proof?" He let out a little 'ahh' sound and grabbed a random sock from your laundry pile, hanging it on the outside of your door before shutting it and locking it.

He was right, you knew that he won.

"Classy" you snorted, crossing your arms. Your heart was beating significantly faster at his choice of putting the sock on the door. You were getting fucked.

"Don't act coy y/n, I survived your little challenge and now I think it's time you reward me" he took steps towards you, but this time you didn't move from your spot, staring at him with defiance. He stopped right in front of you, trailing his finger from your wrist and up your arm to your shoulder.

A shiver ran through you at his touch, arousal oozing into your panties the longer you stood in such close proximity to Harry. Your eyes flicked to your unmade bed, your mind flashing to what happened between you two last time he was in your dorm.

"You know you want it baby... want my cock in you, want my tongue in you, want me to make you come over... and over... and over" he cooed, his voice dropping lower as he ran his finger up further along the column of your neck.

Your body was buzzing with electricity, responding to Harry's touch like a moth to a flame. You were horny, hungry, and frustrated, all your emotions you had built up towards Harry in the last two weeks mixing together into something that could only be solved with his cock pummelling into you.

You hated it, but a bet is a bet and Harry won.

"Just stop gloating and kiss me" you demanded, your mind made up on what you wanted.

You cupped his face and dragged him down towards you, crashing your lips against his. He let out a loud groan of appreciation, not even bothering to hide how much he had missed the feeling of your lips.

His hands moved from your hips to your ass, then back to your hips. He grabbed and kneaded every part of your body he had access to, setting on your ass before moving lower to grab onto your thighs.

"Jump" he instructed against your mouth, aiding you in jumping up so you could wrap your legs around his hips.

Your lips moved perfectly in sync, passion flowing as you moved to grip his hair instead. He had on that fucking sexy bandana again and you quickly chose to push it off his head for full access to his curls as he carried to your bed and lowered you to the bed.

He moved you up so your head was on your pillows, propping himself over you and using your legs still wrapped around his hips to his advantage by grinding down against you. Whimpers flowed into his mouth at how good the stimulation felt; his jeans grinding so perfectly against the thin pyjama shorts that you still hadn't gotten changed out of.

"Let me taste you, fuck... please" he panted, breaking the kiss to pepper kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

"Don't ask Harry, just do" you moaned, your head tilting back when he found the sweet spot on your neck. You kept your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly to try and push him further down your body towards your aching pussy.

He moaned appreciatively, the sting on his scalp sending spikes of pleasure straight to his cock. He loved it when you tugged on his hair, even more so that you were trying to control him in doing what you wanted him to do.

Even though he loved it, he didn’t want you to boss him around this time. You started the game and had the upper hand in every single one of your interactions since then. There was time for that, so much fucking time Harry was nearly coming in his pants just at the thought of all the things you could do together now that you were fuck buddies.

For now, though, he wanted the upper hand and he wanted to watch you squirm and writhe under him. He wanted you to beg to come, and for that to happen there was no way your hands were going anywhere near his head for the remainder of the night.

It put him in a sub space way too fast for his liking, like an on off switch for the submissive in him. He couldn’t get distracted like that when he wanted to be in control.

“Keep your hands right here” he mumbled in between kisses along your cleavage, grabbing your wrists and pinning them on either side of your head, keeping himself balanced on his knees.

“Trying to take control huh? Cute” you smirked, keeping your hands in their place as Harry continued his journey down, pushing your top up and over your breasts.

“You won’t be calling me cute when you’re begging to come… but okay, call me cute” he grinned, keeping direct eye contact with you as he leaned down and took your right nipple between his teeth.

You let out a shuddered breath, trying to keep watching him as he fully enclosed his mouth around it, sucking harshly. The pain went straight to your clit, causing you to buck your hips against Harry’s body.

Which part it was you weren’t sure; all you knew was that your clit was dying for attention, and you were unbearably wet. You couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer, your head was thrown back against the pillow.

You weren’t about to beg, so you laid there keeping your noises to a minimum and wiggling underneath him while he continued his assault on your nipples. It felt incredible; a hand fondling and playing with one breast as his mouth worked on the other.

Harry kept going until your quiet sighs turned into whimpers, your hands in tight fists and your hips desperately trying to get some friction by grinding up into your body. He was taking his sweet time with you, marking up your skin with as many hickeys and bites as he wanted.

He was so hard in his pants it was painful, but he had missed your body and he wanted to claim it as his own. This, these marks were his claim on you.

“How about you use your words to ask for what you want, sweetheart?” he cooed, knowing exactly what you wanted, but refusing to move lower than your belly button.

He could practically smell your arousal from where he was pressing kisses around your belly, a wet patch on the front of your flimsy little shorts that didn’t leave much to the imagination. He wiggled down further on the bed, placing his hands on your inner thighs to pin them open so they could no longer grind upwards for relief.

Your eyes flew open the moment his hands met your thighs, meeting Harry’s as he smirked up at you, expecting you to respond.

“How about you eat me out like you wanted to?” you challenged, raising a brow as you propped your upper body up with your forearms flat on the bed.

He let out a deep sigh, dancing his fingers closer and closer into the junction where your thigh met your pussy. “So…” he pulled your shorts to the side, your lack of underwear exposing your slick folds to him, “…fucking…” Harry couldn’t resist from inhaling your scent, collecting saliva in his mouth before spitting it directly onto your puffy clit that was peeking through your folds “…demanding”.

You didn’t need any more wetness; you were practically dripping. But Harry didn’t care. He wanted it filthy and sloppy, and with the way you gasped at the feeling of his spit on your cunt, he made the right decision.

He dove in the second his words left his mouth, swiping his tongue through your folds from your entrance to your clit so he could collect your saliva laced arousal on his tongue. He groaned out at the taste, going in for a second and third lick to collect as much of your essence as possible.

You were already writhing beneath him, your hands gripping onto your duvet as his lips finally clasped around your clit. “Oh fuck” you whined, head dropping back at how expertly he suckled on it.

He had a hand holding your shorts to the side while simultaneously holding your hips to the bed. The other caressed your thigh before pulling it over his shoulder so he could bury his face in you more.

Harry was in fucking heaven. If he could choose his death, it would be right here, face smothered by your sopping cunt with his mouth sucking right on your clit. Your scent, your taste, your sounds were all sending pleasure straight to his cock, making it harder and more painful than ever before.

He kept lapping at you, keeping you pinned to the bed while he enjoyed his meal. He took his time in this too, switching between pressing kisses to your folds to licking and sucking directly onto your clit. He’d thrust his tongue into your entrance, wanting more of your flavour on his tongue and slurping it up like it was his last supper.

Your moans were loud and unrestricted, unable to be muffled even if you tried. It felt way too good to be true, and simultaneously like the purest torture. You couldn’t pull him closer, and you couldn't grind up to meet him, despite desperately needing to wiggle and jerk in his grip.

You were trapped in his hands, being brought continuously to your orgasm before it would be cruelly taken away with a soft kiss or touch elsewhere on your legs or stomach.

Harry knew how desperate you were getting, a cocky smirk on his face each time your whines would increase with the beginning of your orgasm then quieten again when he pulled away. He wanted you right on the edge but never falling past, and he successfully managed to do that three times before you were nearly sobbing at your lack of release.

You didn’t want to beg, yet it was getting to the point where you had to because your core felt like it was on fire and your clit was burning with how bad it needed an orgasm.

“Harry, fucking-please. Just-fuckkk” you moaned, his lips sucking down harshly onto your clit once more. “Fuck” you practically cried, panting heavily as you tried to prop yourself up again from your fallen position on the bed so you could look at him properly.

It didn’t work, and you fell back the second you managed to get yourself up, your arms wobbling underneath you as pleasure overwhelmed your senses.

“Need to come sweetheart? All you have to do is ask… just be a good girl and ask for me” he cooed, only breaking away from your pussy to speak before he dove back in with open kisses over your clit.

The sound of him eating you out was obscene, slurps and kisses and fucking moans like he was eating some fine dessert. It was all too much for you.

You needed to come badly, and it felt like you needed his cock to fill you up so desperately you could die without it. You were practically clenching around nothing, your leg hooked tight over Harry’s shoulder in a bid to get him closer.

So, you gave in and you begged like your life depended on it. “Please Harry, please let me come. God, I need it so bad… please” you babbled on, your hands gripping onto anything they could find; the duvet, the pillows, your breasts.

“Go on, fucking come for me. God, you’re so fucking hot when you beg. Such a good little slut for me, I love it” he praised, caressing the outside of your thigh as he used it to pull himself closer to your cunt.

After being edged for so long your release was practically automatic, Harry no longer teased or tried to withhold it from you. He worked harder than ever, and with a few expert sucks and nibbles you were screaming out for him.

Your back arched high off the beg as your thighs shook around his head, your orgasm flooding over you in waves that felt never-ending. You had never been edged that far before, and fucking hell it felt like the most intense thing you had ever experienced in your entire life.

Harry guided you through your orgasm with soft laps at your clit, caressing your skin while you let out little sighs of appreciation.

When it felt like you had sufficiently calmed down, he took no time in pulling your shorts off completely and flipping you onto your stomach. It all happened too fast for your post-orgasm-hazed brain to comprehend, so you let him move you into whatever position he liked without a word.

“I fucking love your ass” he groaned, spanking it quickly before grabbing your hips and pulling them up so you were on your knees with your chest pressed to the bad. You let out a whimper at the pain and yelped once more when he delivered another smack to your ass.

“Dick” you cursed, your knees wobbling underneath you.

“You love it” you could practically hear the grin on his face even if yours was smushed into the bed.

Harry was mesmerised by your ass and swollen cunt. He grabbed your cheeks and pulled them apart, salivating at the sight of all your holes on display for him. Unable to help himself, he gave you one long lick, starting at your clit then ending right at your asshole before spitting directly onto it.

Before you could complain about him taking his time staring at your body, he ran two fingers through your folds and slipped them into you without warning. You moaned out and gripped onto the duvet as he started fucking his fingers into you in fast motions, each hitting your g-spot perfectly.

Being fingered from this angle was so much deeper than usual and you loved it. You were practically thrusting yourself back onto his fingers, letting out moans of appreciation and pretty much nothing else that was coherent.

“That’s it, fuck yourself back on my fingers. Just so fucking desperate aren’t you baby” he groaned, spanking you again before kneading your ass in his hand.

The little high-pitched squeals you did whenever he did that made him do it twice more just for the fun of it. He loved how much you reacted to him. It turned him on to no end and he could feel his cock twitching each time you moaned for him.

Harry kept his eyes trained on the way your cunt was swallowing his fingers, cream already coating the base of them like it was his cock. He felt the sudden urge to go further, so with his fingers still thrusting into your pussy in quick motions, he pulled your cheek away and connected his tongue to your ass hole.

You let out a gasp at the new sensation, the mixture of his fingers and his tongue prodding at your rim igniting so many new pleasure points in your body. You had never experimented with anal before, but fucking hell did you love the way his tongue felt against your ass.

“Fuck, Harry… don’t stop” you whimpered, resisting the urge to reach back and pull his face closer to your ass.

“Oh, you like that huh? Filthy little slut… that’s what you are aren’t you. My filthy little slut?” he asked cockily, pushing his tongue a bit harder against you so it slipped past your tight ring of muscles.

You had the urge to smack him for how cocky he sounded, but at this point, he hadn’t even fucked you yet and you were going dumb over him so he wasn't exactly lying.

“I hate you so fucking much, but goddd, don’t stop” you replied through moans, your orgasm feeling closer and closer than ever before.

He suddenly spanked you hard again, making you cry out and arch your back at the pain. “That’s not what I askeddd” he drawled out, “say it. Tell me what you are.”

“N-no” you groaned, your toes curling at the beginning tingles of your high.

“Fine” he replied, his fingers leaving your cunt.

“Harry put them back” you whimpered, wiggling your hips back in search of his fingers. The loss of your orgasm had your core aching at the loss, and you would've done anything to get it back.

“Say it and I will” he shrugged, tracing your folds with the lightest touch, making you squirm.

“Fine! Fine, I’m-I’m your filthy little slut” you mumbled, your face feeling bright red with embarrassment at having to repeat those words. You were thankful Harry couldn’t see your face because you knew he’d only mock how flustered you were.

“Louder.” He spanked your ass again, but this time returned his tongue to your rim.

“I’m your filthy slut” you sighed out in relief, louder this time so he could hear it better.

“Louder.” This time he slipped his fingers back into you, finding your g-spot easily and curling his fingers into it so it was stimulated continuously. You repeated it again, and again and again like a mantra as he fucked your orgasm back into view.

Your eyes were screwed shut at the pleasure flooding your body again. You were on the cusp of your second orgasm and this time Harry let you reach it without any more requests.

Your moaning increased in volume, and you turned your head into the duvet on instinct so your neighbours couldn’t hear what you were doing. Tuesday afternoon really was the most random time to have sex, but that thought hadn’t even entered your mind.

“I need to fuck you, God I’m so fucking hard for you baby. My cock’s been hard for you for two weeks straight” he groaned, pressing kisses all over your reddened ass cheeks as he undid his jeans and slipped them and his boxers down his thighs.

“You better have brought a condom” you sighed, blissfully still in your orgasm daze.

He let out a large laugh and fished out the four connected condoms from his back pocket. He took the opportunity to lean over you with a hand next to your head and wave the line of condoms in front of your face.

“Can’t have my favourite girl getting pregnant, can I?” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling your heart beat a little faster at him calling you his favourite girl. You quickly pushed the thought away and focused on your position and the four condoms dangling in front of your face.

“Four? Harry we both know you’re barely gonna last 30 seconds, let alone four rounds”

Harry suddenly turned you around and pressed you on your back, wrapping his hand around your neck and looking down at you from his spot between your thighs. “Are you challenging me?” he cocked his head with a raised brow.

You could barely focus on his question, just his hand around your neck had your head spinning. “Maybe”

“Oh, you’re soo gonna regret that baby”

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rosyrosethings · 9 months

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Are you adding to assistant and ceo Harry as it’s so good I love it xx

Yes I am. Im working on another part. right now. it should be posted soon

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rosyrosethings · 9 months

Text

Mafia Harry neglects Y/n

Harrys is Mafia leader and does not have much time for Y/n

Mafia harry neglects Y/n

Harry, the powerful leader of a formidable mafia organization, led a life consumed by endless meetings and strategic planning with his loyal men. Each day seemed to blur into the next, leaving little time for personal matters. Y/n, his beloved girlfriend, had initially found the allure of being with a mafia boyfriend thrilling, but as time went on, she discovered the loneliness that came with it.

Y/n tried her best not to interrupt Harry while he was engrossed in discussions with his men, understanding the importance of his work. She rarely witnessed him in action, but she could see how his men reacted to him – their unwavering loyalty and obedience were evident. Though they didn't engage with her much, she suspected that Harry instructed them to keep their distance, perhaps to protect her from the dangerous world they inhabited.

Despite the challenges, Y/n held on to her perception of Harry as a sweet and caring person, incapable of running a powerful criminal organization. But the truth was, Harry's charismatic leadership, fear, and respect commanded the loyalty of his men.

One evening, as the sun set, Y/n laid in bed with Harry, cherishing the rare moment they got to spend together. Their time together was fleeting, and as if on cue, Harry's phone alerted him to yet another pressing matter. Y/n's heart sank, knowing he would be pulled away again.

"Kitten," Harry whispered, reaching for his phone.

Exasperated, Y/n couldn't hold her feelings back any longer. "Harry, why do you even invite me over if you're just going to leave again? We barely cuddled for two minutes," she said, pushing him away gently as he tried to hold her close.

"It's my job, love," Harry explained, trying to reassure her.

She looked at him, her eyes filled with frustration and hurt. "You've been neglecting me for work, and while I understand it's important to you, but I thought I was important to you," she murmured, her gaze locked on his.

Harry immediately reached for her hand, wanting her to know that she mattered. "Baby, you are important to me. I love you. How about this? After this meeting, we can go to the pool in the back, and then we can watch a movie together. Anything you want," he promised, peppering her neck with tender kisses.

"Promise?" Y/n asked, seeking reassurance.

"Anything for you," he affirmed, sealing the deal with a sweet kiss on her lips, which brought a smile to Y/n's face.

As the night wore on, Harry excused himself to his office with his men in tow, leaving Y/n waiting by the poolside in her yellow two-piece bikini. Hopeful for quality time together, she waited patiently, only to be disappointed when Harry didn't join her within the expected timeframe. Two hours had passed, and there was still no sign of him.

Feeling increasingly upset and neglected, Y/n decided to take matters into her own hands and headed straight to Harry's office. She didn't even bother knocking, the frustration pushing her to the brink. Y/n felt vulnerable in her revealing outfit, but her need to express her emotions overshadowed any concern.

Inside the office, Y/n saw Harry and four of his men engrossed in conversation. The sudden intrusion surprised them, but Harry quickly regained his composure. His eyes locked with Y/n's, noticing how his men's attention lingered on her. He couldn't blame them. Harry was taken aback by her unexpected appearance, especially in such a revealing outfit, but he knew he had to address her concerns.

"Harry, you told me you'd come to the pool with me, and now the sun is setting, and you're still in here!" Y/n exclaimed, her arms crossed in front of her in frustration. He approached her, taking off his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders, both to comfort her and to shield her from their prying eyes.

"I know, kitten, but something came up. Tonight, I'm going to need you to stay here while I'm gone," Harry explained, his voice softened by the love he had for her.

"Gone? You're leaving? What about the movie?" Y/n asked, a hint of sadness in her eyes.

Harry's heart ached as he saw her disappointment. "I'm sorry, love. Trust me, I am going to make this up to you, and Ian will be here with you," he gestured to his loyal friend, who nodded affirmatively.

Y/n turned to face Ian, feeling a mix of irritation and loneliness. "But why can't you stay here, and Ian goes out?"

Harry sighed, trying to find the right words. "Because, puddin', I have to take care of some things in person, but Ian will be here to make sure no one touches you. Isn't that right, Ian?" Harry asked, his tone firm as he made eye contact with his trusted friend.

Ian nodded, understanding the weight of the responsibility entrusted to him by Harry. His loyalty to his best friend was unwavering, and he would protect Y/n with his life.

Feeling overwhelmed, Y/n turned back to face Harry, her eyes welling up with tears. She hated crying like this, but the hurt was too much to bear. "I wanna go with you," she said, her voice trembling as she looked up at him.

Harry's heart swelled with love for her, but he knew that bringing her along was too risky. He pulled her close, his hand around her waist, trying to comfort her. "Baby, you can't go with me. It's too dangerous for you," he said, gently kissing her forehead.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, finding solace in his embrace. Harry signaled to his men to leave, wanting a moment alone with Y/n. He wanted to assure her that she was his priority and that he would make things right when he returned.

"I know you're sad, and I promise I'm going to take good care of you when I get home," Harry said, his voice full of sincerity.

Y/n sniffled, her tears subsiding slightly. "You said you promised last time," she said, her voice laced with vulnerability.

"I know, but this time, I truly mean it. You are my first priority, and after this, I am all yours," he reassured her, sealing his promise with a tender kiss.

As the night progressed, Harry left Y/n in Ian's capable hands. She sat on the couch, feeling incredibly lonely as the hours dragged on. The silence was broken by the sound of the front door opening and closing, and she turned to see Ian entering the house. He had just finished patrolling the premises, his hand still on his gun.

"Ian, do you want to watch a movie with me?" Y/n asked, hoping for some company to ease her loneliness.

Ian hesitated, knowing that Harry had asked him to keep an eye out for any potential threats. But seeing Y/n's sadness, he couldn't resist offering her some comfort. "I'm not sure. Harry said—" he started, only to be interrupted by Y/n's frustration.

"Harry also said he'd watch a movie with me, but did he do that?" she retorted, looking up at Ian with pleading eyes. "Please, I'm lonely," she added, hoping he would understand.

Ian sighed, realizing that Harry wouldn't mind if he kept her company. He sat down beside her, ready to watch a movie together.

"What do you want to watch? Any preferences?" Ian asked, trying to accommodate her desires.

Y/n shook her head, wanting to know more about him. "Nah, we can watch whatever you want. I want to know what you like. I feel like you always agree or go along with everything just because I'm Harry's girlfriend," she said, turning to face him.

Ian chuckled, revealing his perfect teeth. "Well, I like anime," he confessed, surprised by her reaction.

"You? I never would've thought you were an anime fan. I love anime too!" she exclaimed with genuine excitement.

"Yeah, I've been watching it since I was old enough to have the remote," he revealed.

"Then let's watch an anime," she suggested, feeling a connection forming between them.

And so they did. Y/n found an anime called "7 Deadly Sins," and they started watching it together. As the episodes played, Y/n slowly succumbed to her exhaustion, her head falling gently on Ian's shoulder.

Seeing her in this vulnerable state, Ian couldn't help but admire her beauty. He swallowed his thoughts, knowing Harry would never forgive him if he entertained any inappropriate ideas about Y/n. He was Harry's loyal friend, and he would never betray that trust.

Unbeknownst to Y/n and Ian, Harry had returned home to find Y/n sleeping peacefully on Ian's shoulder. A surge of possessiveness washed over him, but he approached them with a playful tone.

"Got a bit comfortable, didn't ya?" Harry teased, directing his gaze at Ian.

Ian turned to see Harry standing above them, feeling a bit flustered by his sudden presence. He struggled to find the right words to explain the situation.

Harry circled the couch, his eyes fixed on Y/n. "Y/n baby, wake up," he called softly but with an underlying sternness that made her stir.

Y/n opened her eyes slightly, the sight of Harry immediately bringing a smile to her sleepy face. "Harry," she murmured, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "I've missed you so much," she confessed, as Harry held her arms, helping her to her feet.

Harry's heart melted at her words, and he knew he had to make it up to her. He had promised her, and he intended to keep that promise. He would do everything in his power to show her how much he cherished and loved her.

"Come on, let's go to bed," Harry said, helping Y/n up. Harry looked at Ian.

"Ian thank you for taking care of my girl but I can take it from here." He said. Emphasis on the 'my girl' part. Making clear who she belongs to. Y/n still sleepy. Not really paying attention. Ian nodded not wanting to be on Harry's bad side.

Harry continued to guide Y/n to the bedroom. As they settled into bed, Y/n's head rested on Harry's chest. "I'm sorry for neglecting you," he said, his voice soft and sincere. "I promise to make more time for us, to show you just how much you mean to me."

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes filled with love. "I believe you," she said, placing a sweet kiss on his lips. "I know you have a lot on your plate, but just knowing that you're willing to make an effort means the world to me."

"I love you," Harry whispered, pulling her close to him. "And I'm going to make sure you feel loved and cherished every day."

"I love you more, lets just sleep."

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #watermelon sugar #fine line #harrys house

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rosyrosethings · 1 year

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https://at.tumblr.com/rosyrosethings/harrys-a-mafia-boss/1a8493z2cnr2

she’s a tad bit crazy?! i think she was pretty tame and also a dumb fuck for taking that idiot back like he literally lied about his entire life and she’s like “okay🥰🥰🥰”

Yea she was. But i get tired of writing strong women 🤣I’m weak and they gone be weak to.

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rosyrosethings · 1 year

Text

Harry’s a mafia boss

I haven’t posted on a while but i revamped this story. Just wanna make it clear Y/n is kinda a tad bit crazy in this story. I was tired of the same ole perfect Y/n. Y/n is also black. Happy black history month 🖤

////

Y/n woke up to her boyfriend kissing her face repeatedly. She giggled and moved over to stuff her face in her pillow. He grabbed her waist pulling her hips to his.

“You can’t hide from me, baby. Now kiss me!” He said y/n turned her head as she peaked open one of her eyes looking up and her pale green-eyed boy smirking at her. She opened her other eye. Now fully looking at him.

“Marcel, I haven’t even brushed my teeth.” She said turning over her body fully now laying on her back looking up at him.

“I don’t care. We go through this every morning.” He said as he leaned downed and kissed her lips. She kissed him back. She loved waking up to the sight of her boyfriend. Waking up with her in his arms or her arms around him his green eyes waiting for her to wake up because she like to sleep late. Marcel's phone rang interrupting her pleasant thoughts of him. Y/n immediately rolled her eyes. whenever his phone rang she knew he was going to leave her, sometimes he's gone all day and doesn't come back till 4 am. He sat up removing his arms from around her to answer his phone.

“Yea?…. be there soon,” Marcel said, with that he hung up the phone. y/n turned from him already knowing he’s going to leave her on such an important day like today. Marcel looked over at her as he could tell he was upset.

”Baby don’t be like that.” he said laying back down wrapping his arms around her waist kissing her bare shoulder.

”You let whoever in your phone run you. You always seem to go whenever they call.” she said. Still not turning to face him s he kept pampering her shoulder in kisses

”‘s just work love, I'd be home later.” He said in between kisses. As made his way up all the way to her cheek. Kissing her repeatedly all over her face. Causing a slight giggle.

“Fine just make sure you don’t miss tonight. It's our one-year anniversary dinner so please don't miss it.” He kissed her once more. Before getting up putting on his clothes. She wished he stayed and stopped treating her house like one nightstand. He always had to go.

“Won’t miss it for the world baby. I love you.” He said as he got up getting ready to walk out her bedroom. She got up also walking with him to the door. She didn’t respond to his I love you because if he loved her he wouldn’t leave her on their one year anniversary. He turned around and face her. His bottom lip poking out because he knew she could resist his cute face.

“Baby, I said I love you.” He mumbled,

”Mhmm.” she hummed in response trying to walk past him. He grabbed her arm pulling her back to face him. He knew she liked it when he got a bit more aggressive.

“What’s wrong?” He asked seriously.

“You’re leaving me on our one year anniversary.” She whines out. He leaned down and kissed her pouting lips.

”baby, I just have to work. I’d be back I promise.” He said, she nodded kissing him again. She knew how to get him to stay. Sex. So she used it to her advantage. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sliding her tongue in his mouth. Moving her hips closer to his. He kissed her back of course. He couldn’t resist her. But he had to work so he pulled away but she continued to kiss his jaw and his neck.

“Love I have to go to work.” He laughed, she sighed and gave up. Stepping back letting him leave out the door. He stopped right in front of her waiting on her to say she loves him.

“I love you..” she mumbled. He gave her his best smile and kissed her cheek.

After Marcel left. Y/n went about her day as usual. Preparing for tonight. While FaceTime with her best friend.

” Matthew and I are gonna go out tonight and have some adult fun..” her friend Tae explained while smiling from ear to ear. Mathews was her husband.

”that's so cute. I and Marcel are going out tonight also.” Y/n proclaimed with a bigger smile. Tae rolled her eyes at the sound of his name.

“Y/n, you know I don’t like him for you. I just feel like you deserve better.” Her friend Jessica said,

“He’s an amazing guy. I don’t see why you don’t like him.” Y/n said as she put on her makeup.

“You’ve been dating him for a year. You haven’t met his friends or family. You’ve been to his house like twice and he says he works in the pharmaceutical business. Which is a load of shit.”

Y/n shrugged.

“He’s just secretive,” y/n mumbled. Jessica laughed at her naivety.

“Your making excuses for him. But I guess I’d make excuses for a face like his too.” Tae said, “Mommy!! I cut my finger.” Tae’s son Brandon yelled from the back.

“Fuck Y/n I will call you back,” Tae said disconnecting the FaceTime call and tending to her child. Y/n continued to get ready for her date. Once she was finally ready. She got a text from Marcel. Who was supposed to pick her up.

Running late I called you an Uber to the restaurant. I will meet you there. -Marcel

She sighed, she could have literally driven her own car. She thought but she knew Marcel hated it when she didn't listen to him. She waited for the Uber to arrive. Which arrived shortly after her waiting... Uber took her to the restaurant. She walked inside where she was greeted by the hostess.

”name?”

”Marcel Cox.”

”Ohh follow me.” She said as she grabbed the large menu and walked Y/n to the empty table. She sighed, he isn’t here she thought.

She sat at the table and continued to wait patiently but no one ever came. She watched the clock go from 6 pm to 6:30 to 7:00. she still had hope that he’d come. Even though she was one more pitiful look from the waitress away from tears.

Her phone made a ding noise. She looked at to see it was her best friend Tae. But Y/n did not open the text message. She wasn’t in the mood for her best friend to be right.

But her phone kept dinging. Multiple text messages from tae. Y/n unlocked her phone.

Aren’t you and Marcel supposed to be together? Isn’t it the anniversary?

Marcel is the club I’m at.

I snuck up closer to see what he was saying. They are literally calling him Harry.

I’m gonna send you a video.

Shortly after a video was sent to Y/N’s phone.

The video was of Marcel, sitting in a VIP section of a club with a few other guys behind him. But Tae kept moving the camera behind people to be discreet.

Y/n shut off the video and decided to call him.

No answer.

She thought that maybe she should text him. But she didn’t. She sat there and thought about it.

Who is Harry and why are they calling him that? Why is he at a bar instead of with me? She quickly arranged an Uber to pick her up and she ordered food Togo.

Eventually, she made it home. Tears were pouring down her face. Receiving weird looks from her uber driver. She felt so confused and lost. she went to change into more comfortable which was one of Harrys shirts and decided to sit on the couch and enjoy her steak dinner and watch kissing booths on Netflix. Her phone started to ring and she looked hopefully it could be Marcel.

“Hello?”

”Hi love, are you okay? Do you need me to come over?” she asked, she sighed at the sound of Taes voice.

”no no no it's fine enjoy your night with your husband. i just wanna be alone right now.” y/n said sadly eating the roasted potatoes.

”Okay, Are you sure? Me and Matt could come over and we can watch movies.”

”Yea, I'm positive the last thing I want is to be around a happily married couple.”

“Okay well I love you. Call me if you need anything.”

“Love you too.”

Y/n disconnected the call and continue to eat her dinner. She didn’t know what to do. Who in the hell is Harry and why is lying to her. Is he married?

She heard a key unlocking the door. She glared at the door. Knowing Marcel is the only person who has a key.

He walked in. Ready to apologize for missing their anniversary. It was almost 12am. He didn’t know what excuse to come up. Just tell her it was work. He thought.

“Baby.. I’m so so sorry. It was work thing and I-.” She let out a dry laugh. As he sat next to her on the couch. She did love him but he’s lying to her. She just wants the truth.

“Work at 12am? you’re lying to me. Is there someone else? Are you married?”

“What baby? No. I’m all yours.”

“Then who in the fuck is Harry?”she as she looked him dead in the eye. He looked like a dear in head lights.

“If you look me in the eye and lie to me one more time. I’m done with you.” She said crossing her arms. He didn’t want to tell her. How do you tell someone you’re the leader of a gang. He couldn’t tell her. Y/n is the most cooker cutter girl he knows. She doesn’t break any laws, She doesn’t smoke, Halloween scares hers, one glass of whine has her tipsy. And yet he still loved her even though they were opposite. He never felt this way about a girl before. He loved how safe he felt with her. As it lhe had no worries whenever he stepped near her. If he told her who he was would she be scared of him.

“I-I don’t know who Harry is.” He immediately regretted the lie that came out of his mouth. If he told her his real name was Harry after a year of dating. She would leave him in heartbeat. But she knew him to well. She knew it was a lie.

“You’re lying to me Marcel or whoever the hell you are. You need to leave.” She said as she stood up from the couch.

“Leave?” He said looking up at her, his green eyes slightly glossy. She could see the fear and hurt in his eyes.

“Yes leave. I-I don’t know who you are. You’ve been lying to me for a full year and you looked me in my eyes and lied to me. You wouldn’t do that to someone you love.” He stood up his height towering hers.

“Kitten I do love you.”

“Yea but not enough to tell me the truth. Can you please just leave.” She said looking away from him. He looked down at her. He turned around to leave.

“The key.” She said. Stopping him.

“Baby c’mon. This is just a stupid fight.” he said trying to blow over the situation. She looked up at him her eyes full of hurt and pure disgust.

”Marcel I don’t even know who you are anymore. You keep lying to me and I can’t do this now please give me my damn key and leave my house.” Harry flinched at her language he handed her the key.

“Can I at least explain myself?” He said once more.

“No. you had your chance and you lied. Please just leave me.” And he did as he was told and left the apartment. Leaving her their in tears.

A couple days went by Y/n couldn’t get out of bed she was always so sad. It hurt her so badly to lose Marcel. Then a week went by and he hasn’t even tried to call her. She thought she obviously meant nothing to him for him not even to try to win her back. Then a whole month went by no Marcel and she was still just as hurt as she was the day he walked out on her. So she started knitting to distract herself and she was getting pretty good at. Decided to knit a cardigan. But knitting only led to more thinking. She wanted to know who Harry was. She wanted the truth. So what if she breaks into his house? The knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. She sighed she knew it was Tae. Tae has literally been worried sick since Marcel left Y/n. Y/n went to open the door. Seeing her best Friend Tae.

“Hi Honeyyy… you look so good.” She said sadly as she engulfed Y/n in a hug. Y/n who didn’t hug her back closed the door behind her as she was still engulfed in the hug.

“Hi Tae.” Y/n said as tae pulled away and they walked to living area. To both sit in on the couch.

“How are you?”

“I want to go to his house.” Y/n said, nonchalantly

“Ohh honey i know that but you guys broke up.” She said in worried tone.

“No, not like that. I want answers. I’m going to his house and I’m going to see his wife and tell her.” Y/n said as she got up from the couch and stared to pace back a forth as her plan was coming along.

“His wife?” Tae said confusingly

“Yes his wife! He has to be married. Why would he lie about his name and never introduce me to his friends or family. What could be the other explanation?”

“Y/n this isn’t a good idea what if he has kids? You are going to ruin a family.” Y/n didn’t respond to Tae’s reasoning. She just grabbed her keys.

“I don’t care. I’m going! Are you coming or not?” She said as she slipped on some shoes.

“You’re seriously going to do this?!” Tae asked as she stood up.

“Yup.”

And with that. They sat off to Harry’s house. They were currently parked in front of the huge home. Sitting there waiting for anything to happen.

“Are you waiting for his wife to pull up or?” Tae said, questioning her best friend’s behavior.

“I’m so stupid, look at this huge house. Just for him my ass!! This house can hold a family of 15!” Y/n said as crossed her arms. “I should slash his tire in his stupid car or break the windows of his car… I wonder do I have a crowbar in here or a knife.” She said as she started to open her armrest a look through the pile of stuff she has.

“I really think you should relax and let’s remember one of us is a wife and a mom who can’t afford to go to be an accessory to destruction of someone hundred thousand dollar Porsche .” Tae said as she removed her friend from the armrest. Closing it.

“You’re right. I should just go in. Just see the wife know what I’m up against.”

“No i think we should go back home. If you want to tell his wife. Maybe just maybe send a letter to this address. Say hi I’m y/n your husband’s mistress and you should leave him.”

“No im going in.” Y/n said as she quickly got out of the car not listening to Tae’s protest. Walking up to the huge door. Ringing the doorbell patiently waiting for someone to come the door.

The door opened revealing a man. Who wasn’t Marcel. White male, brown hair tattooed with blue eyes. He wasn’t a wife. Maybe his friend or husband or brother. He looked at her with a bit of shock.

“Umm Hi, I’m looking for Marcel?”

“Uhh he’s kinda busy right now.”The man replied. Unsure of who this girl is.

“Are you his husband?” She asked, Causing the man to burst in laughter.

“No, Harr- I mean Marcel is my boss. .” He said still slightly laughing. The guy thinking that Is just one of Harry’s girls he likes to have around. He’s very discreet about his love life and everyone only sees him with temporary girls. But this girl did seem a bit different. She didn’t really look the rest of the girls and she seemed very determined. Maybe this is girl he’s been sneaking off with. It’s not the first time a girl came looking for Harry. But it’s while since that happened.

“Well Harry or Marcel or whoever he is. Needs to come here and give me some god damn answers.” She said as she stomped one foot.

“Well I’m sorry ma’am he isn’t available.” She rolled her eyes.

“His car is here so that means he is available. Either you get Marcel here or Im going to go in there and get him myself.” The man just chucked at her attitude. But she didn’t find it funny. She pushed passed him but he grabbed her waist not letting her in. But she continued to try to pull her self inside. She started yelling Marcels name as loud as she can.

“MARCEL GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE AND TALK TO ME YOU ASSHOLE!” She yelled holding the doorframe as the man tried to pull her outside. She continued to repeatedly yell Marcel.

Tae saw her friends lower body hanging out the doorframe. She sighed deeply getting out the car walking to the door.

“Y/n what the hell are you doing? You’re making a scene!” Tae said as he walked up the steps to the front door. Y/n who wasn’t listening to Tae. Decided to kick the man right in balls. Causing him to fall down to let go of the girl. She walked inside the house.

“Y/n this is breaking and entering get out here!!” Tae yelled

“You fucking bitch!” The man yelled and walked in after Y/n.

With all the commotion. Harry heard someone yelling and made his way out of his office seeing Y/n running around the living room with Lou chasing after her.

“What the hell is going on her?!” He yelled,

“This little b-.” Lou started

“Don’t you ever address her as that again.” Harry said cutting him off. Lou didn’t say anything. He nodded his head not wanting to upset Harry. He looked at the door to see Y/n’s friend Tae in the doorway.

“Y/n, Tae. Please come in have a seat. “ he said as he gestured to his living area.

“No, I want the truth! That’s why I’m here!” He nodded his head. He was so happy to see her. So happy to have her here.

“Okay love, I’d tell you everything over a cup of tea.”

And that’s exactly what Harry did. He explained that he dad died when he was young. His mom remarried a man Alessandro. Who he knows as his dad. Alessandro a mafia boss and raised he raised Harry to take his spot. Now Harry is the lead man.

“Why are you telling us this? Isn’t this supposed to be top secret.” Tae said looking at him. Still questioning all of the things he said.

“Well, If I know Y/n she would run to tell you everything anyway and she wasn’t going to leave without answers. I don’t think i had much of a choice.” He said, y/n scanned the room. Seeing the man she kicked still looking very upset with this whole situation. She looked over at Harry. Who was already looking at her.

“When I first met you love, I was working and I didn’t want to give you my real name. So i gave you the name Marcel because that’s what my mom was going to name me. But she stuck with Harry Styles.” Harry said as kept his eyes on her. “I know you think i was lying. Which I was but I never lied about my love for you. Y/n I love you. I never stopped.”

“So you’re not gay or married?” Y/n said quietly. He chuckled at her looking down at his tea

“No, I’m not married.” He said, she bit her lip.the sound of a ding breaking the rooms silence. It was Tae phone.

“Well my husbands here. I’m going to go. Y/n are you staying?” She said as she got up and looked at her. Y/n looked at her and then back at Harry. This is still the man she loved.

“I would love for you to stay.” Harry said looking directly at her. She looked back at Tae.

“Actually I think I’m going to stay.” She said to Tae. Harry let out a small smirk. Tae nodded.

“Louis can you please show Tae and yourself out please.” Harry said, Louis got up still glaring at Y/n. She looked at him mumbling a quick I’m sorry. The sound of the door closing echoed through the large house. Harry reached over grabbing her hand pulling her over to him making her take a seat in his lap. Wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I’m still mad at you. But I am sorry for being crazy today.”

“It’s okay, Louis can be a bit of an asshole he probably deserved what you did to him.” She looked down at him.

“Can we get back together now?” She asked,

“Do you even have to ask.” He said as sealed with deal with a nice kiss on his lips.

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