#Harry never asks her why she feels this way
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OLD GRUDGES (part 3)
A/N: i know it took me way longer than it should have, but at last im here with the next part and that's what matters, right? thank you for the support on the prev parts, hope you'll enjoy this just as much!
WORD COUNT: 4.3k
WARNING: sexual content
SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.
MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST
Meetings never really excited Harry, but lately, they have been his favorite along with studio sessions. Because these were the times he always got to see Y/N.
Today he is going in with her favorite cookies in his bag that he picked up on his way, taking a detour just to drop by that one place she loves the most. It’s been a recurring thing for Harry, picking up a cup of coffee for her, buying her favorite snacks for their sessions or surprising her with lunch from that taco place she adores so much. He’s been doing practically anything to get a smile on her face because he feels like that’s the only thing he is destined to do.
He’s been ignoring the fact that her time working on the project ends in two weeks, according to the contract. The only chance to stretch it longer if the required songs are not finished, but they are all practically done at this point. Harry tries his best not to think of what it will be like when he doesn’t get to see her as often as he does now.
The meeting was scheduled only yesterday, so Harry has no idea what it is about, but it doesn’t really matter, they are supposed to record afterwards, so he only cares about spending more time with Y/N.
However, the smile fades when he walks into the room and doesn’t see her. It’s odd, she is usually there before him, but now it’s just a couple of the studio engineers, Niall, Liam and Blake, the kind of weird manager from Modest who’s been working with them since they started recording for Midnight Memories. Harry has been getting these eerie vibes from him, but he just can’t put his finger on it, so he’s been sucking it up and ignoring it. He gave no reason not to be trusted so far.
“Hey, what’s up?” Harry greets everyone walking into the room.
“Ah, Harry! You’re here!” Blake smiles and they shake hands before Harry settles in a chair. “I was just telling the boys what this meeting is about. Good news, you are set for another album after Midnight Memories is released!”
It’s no surprise, to be honest. One album after the other, the pace has been just like that for a while.
“Great,” he nods. “Do we know who we’re gonna work with?”
Blake then hands him a paper with a list of names and some other details. Harry runs over the names, looking for a particular one, but it’s not there.
“What about Y/N?” he asks.
“Ah, I wanted to tell you guys. She got another project kind of last minute, so she is done with the album for now and won’t be able to join for the next one, it seems like,” Blake explains casually and it doesn’t stand out to anyone else either, but it hits Harry in the chest pretty hard.
She is done with the album? Why didn’t she say anything? They talked on the phone just two days ago, why didn’t she even mention it?
And why isn’t she gonna work on the next album? Harry doubts she is booked that far ahead, she is just getting recognized in the industry and she told him herself she is living from one project to the other, works on the next album won’t start at least until they start touring Midnight Memories.
It’s not adding up, but on the other hand… Harry has no right to question her. Even despite how close he’s been getting to her, they are still just… coworkers. Friends.
But nothing more.
“Alright, now that we are talking about the next album, I have a little sneak peek of a song that could be a big hit!” Blake seems enthusiastic as he opens his laptop and then soon a demo starts playing, but Harry can’t really focus, he is too stuck on the fact that he has no more time left with Y/N. He even pulls out his phone, ready to text her and ask her how all of this happened, but then talks himself down. When he finally starts to listen to the song, it sounds familiar at first, but there are no lyrics and Harry often finds random songs familiar lately, because he just hears so many new melodies on a daily basis, they tend to blend together.
“You like it?” Blake asks him and Harry just nods.
“Yeah. What is it called?”
Blake smiles confidently as he shuts the laptop down.
“Night Changes.”
The weather is finally good enough for grilling and the rowland household would take an opportunity anytime for that. Filling up their backyard with the people they love the most and feeding them burgers, hotdogs or basically anything Mitch is able to throw onto the grill. They usually have a gathering like this every month if their schedule and the weather allows.
Now it’s finally the first official grill party of the year.
Harry is sat outside by one of the tables, his plate is empty by now, but he knows he’ll get another round at one point. Cards are scattered on the tabletop, along with glasses of lemonade and beer, the kids are playing in the back somewhere by the treehouse, everything feels and looks idyllic.
For the past about two hours Harry couldn’t stop looking for Y/N. Stealing glances when she was talking to Sarah or playing with the kids, trying not to ogle her too obviously when she was laughing at something at the other table. He wanted to walk up to her a thousand times already, but he is trying to act cool and figure out how to act when there are other people around.
It’s an unknown territory for sure.
When Harry sees her walking towards the house he just can’t stay put. Excusing himself from the group he tries his best not to look suspicious as he follows her inside. Once the sliding door is closed behind him he quickens his steps down the hallway towards the bathroom, guessing she went there, but as he is approaching the door he notices it’s closed.
Should he try his luck and open it? Or maybe knock? Or…
Suddenly, the lock rattles and the door moves the tiniest bit, light coming through the gap. His heart skips a beat as he leaps forward and pushes the door open more so he can step inside.
And there she is, standing by the sink, checking herself out in the mirror when Harry walks in and closes the door behind him. Then slowly, she turns her gaze to him, for the first time today and for a moment Harry thinks she might tell him to fuck off and get out, but when he sees her lips part, he knows what she wants.
Him.
They collide fast, their usual hunger for each other taking over in a heartbeat. Demanding kisses, rough touches, they both know they should be in a hurry, Harry can’t even remember if he locked the door, it would be rather awkward if someone walked in on them.
Especially because no one knows about them, or whatever is going on between them.
It’s been over a week since the dinner party that ended up with the most confusing but also mind-blowingly amazing sex they have ever had. When it was over Harry simply left and kept to what she said, that they would not talk about it and that’s exactly what happened. They never talked about it, but it happened again.
Twice since then.
And now they are going at it again.
“Fuck,” Harry growls into her mouth when she reaches into his pants with quick but confident moves, because it’s not the first time she is doing it and he can only hope it’s not the last either.
“Quickly,” she pants and he just nods, bunching up her dress and tugging her underwear down. It’s no surprise he is already hard, following her inside was like a foreplay to him, the secrecy, the chance that she might tell him to fuck off, his pulse has been rising before he stepped into the bathroom.
They moan together when he thrusts into her, but then he gets back to kissing her to keep their voice down as he starts moving. Usually, they don’t talk when they are having sex, but Harry feels like changing that up, trying out how she reacts to something different.
“You knew I would come after you, huh?” he pants against her lips.
“I did,” she breathes out, one arm curled around his neck, her other hand gripping the edge of the sink to keep her balance.
“You thought about me fucking you all day?”
To that, she doesn’t answer and Harry almost regrets opening his mouth, but then she looks at him and nods.
“I did,” she repeats herself and even cracks a smile before pulling him closer to kiss him hard. And just like that, a tightening but warm feeling spreads in his chest.
They don’t need much time, Harry is the first to come and she follows soon right after. Her head falls against his chest , rising and falling with his deep breaths and he tries to fight the urge, but then gives in and bringing up a hand he runs his fingers through her hair. Part of him fears this move might be too intimate for her and that she’ll shake him off of her any moment, but it never happens and Harry enjoys it, probably way more than he should.
They clean themselves up and soon it’s just the sparkle in their eyes that proves what they just did.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asks, fixing her makeup in the mirror.
“Are you asking me out or something?” Harry cheekily asks and she just smacks his chest playfully.
“I have some stuff I’ve been working on that I want to show you.”
Harry’s pulse fastens again. This is just like it was before, when it was just the two of them, sharing the songs they were working on.
“I would love that,” he smiles at her, watching her walk to the door.
“Alright. I’ll text you then.”
Y/N walks out and Harry knows they are back to not talking and for a second he wonders how long he’ll be able to keep going like this.
When he walks out he is still deep in his thoughts, but then when he reaches the kitchen he comes to a halt, seeing Mitch by the kitchen island, sipping on some lemonade, a knowing look on his face.
“Hey man,” Harry clears his throat and joins him instead of walking outside.
“Hey. Everything alright?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Want to share why I just saw Y/N coming from the same direction as you just did?”
“Uh… you know, we just…”
Harry can’t quite find the right words, especially because he doesn’t like and can’t really lie to Mitch, but he also wants to keep the no talking rule. Mitch stares back at him with a blank face for a second, but then his eyes go wide.
“No way.”
“What?” Harry laughs.
“For real?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You and… you and Y/N?”
Harry doesn’t answer, but that’s quite the answer to Mitch.
“Oh my God, how long has this been going on?”
“Keep it down!” He hushes his friend. “It’s… it’s nothing official or anything.”
“But it is something, right? What is it?”
Harry once again just stays silent.
“You two are having sex?” More silence. “Oh my God! Did you just do it in the bathroom?!”
“Shh!” Harry tries to shush him again, but he also can’t hold back his smile, thinking about what just took place in that bathroom.
“Harry, what the hell! When… How did that happen? You know what? I don’t want to know about that,” Mitch changes his mind quickly, making Harry laugh. “But like… what is it?”
“I told you, it’s nothing o–”
“No, I mean… what do you want it to be?”
Harry sighs as he turns so he can look out at the backyard through the sliding door. And there she is, with a glass in her hand as she is talking to Sarah, laughing at something and Harry wishes he knew what it was.
“I just… I like her. A lot.”
“But you two had been hating each other passionately, what happened to that?”
“I think we took the passionately part and turned it into something else,” Harry smirks cheekily, his eyes still glued to her figure outside.
“Oh my God, you are so gone for her,” Mitch breathes out, shaking his head. “You’re falling for her!”
Harry turns back to Mitch and hesitates before speaking up.
“I already fell for her. When we worked together years ago. But then she basically disappeared and when we met again, she acted like I was her mortal enemy,” Harry chuckles. Calling himself the enemy sounds ridiculous, but it’s the most fitting he could say. “And now…” he hums, but doesn’t finish his thought out loud.
“And now you’re falling for her again?”
“I might be,” he nods.
The Sun has set, but the party's still going. Well, it’s not raging, some of the people who came with kids have left and Scout has been put down by Mitch as well, but a handful of guests are still out on the terrace, playing card games and sharing stories.
Y/N sits right across from Harry and he has noticed the change. She is losing her cold act towards him, slowly but surely. They can finally talk and joke around almost like back in the days. Harry however doesn’t want to let himself go deeper than he should, he knows he is on an unstable field with her and he feels like it all could snap any moment, but…
It feels so amazing.
Making her laugh, sharing knowing looks, teasing each other like old friends, Harry missed being like this.
When he notices that she’s probably cold his first thought is to offer his hoodie, but he is quick to stop himself, he’s sure it might be too much at once so he instead just asks around who needs a blanket as he is heading inside anyway so he can easily grab a few.
But then as the night comes to an end, he still decides to try and dance around the unsaid boundaries.
“Hey, I just ordered a car, added your address as well.” Harry tells her when he sees her open the Uber app on her phone.
“Ah, no need, I can just–”
“Already ordered it,” he insists, hoping she’ll accept it and luckily, it seems like she is not in the mood to argue.
The car ride is quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind. She is on her phone, reading what seems like emails to Harry and he notices the change in her instantly.
“Everything alright?”
She looks up with a frown and then sighs, locking her phone.
“Just work. I have this annoying assistant, called Daryl up in my ass on another project, he is trying to get me to give way more than I’m obligated to. I don’t even know who his boss is, the damn guy is like a mystery for some reason.”
“Like, they want more music from you?”
“Yes,” she nods. “They want to listen to stuff I’m working on in case something fits the album, but I’ve already delivered what I was paid for.”
Although he is eager to know more, to offer his help, he stays silent, staying within the boundaries this time, not pushing his luck even more. It’s a miracle itself that she even said this much about anything personal.
“So tomorrow?” Y/N asks when the car stops in front of her house. Harry looks at her and for a moment, all he can think about is the last time they were here like this.
“Yeah, I’m free,” he manages to speak up, snapping out of his memories.
“I’ll text you. Bye then,” she nods before climbing out of the car and heading towards her front door. Harry watches her for a bit before he tells the driver to leave.
She still hasn’t texted him. It’s four in the afternoon and he hasn’t heard of her since she got dropped off last night.
He was up early, went for a run, because he definitely needed to put his extra energy into something instead of continuously checking his phone, hoping for a text to pop up. Then he grabbed himself a bagel on the way back, brewed a coffee when he got home and had his breakfast while staring at his phone like a sore loser.
He took that damn phone everywhere he went. Literally everywhere. But the hours passed by and he got no sign and at first he just thought she got busy with something, but by the time he was done with lunch, it turned into a worry.
She was as punctual as one could get and she would have already texted him by now, even if it was just about that she is running late with whatever she was doing. A decent session lasts at least three or four hours and she is not one to pull an allnighter.
He has kept ordering himself to be patient all day, but now he lost the last bits of his bearing. At last he decides a text is fine, she can answer whenever it’s convenient.
HARRY: Hey, are we still up for a sesh?
He keeps the conversation open and watches his message sit there, its status staying delivered for what feels like forever. Then, about twenty minutes later, it changes to read and the three dots start dancing at the bottom of the screen as Harry’s heart threatens to jump right out of his chest. He knows he is acting ridiculously, but he pushes the thought to the back of his head for now.
The dots then disappear, but no message arrives. A minute goes by and they reappear and this time a gray bubble follows.
Y/N: I got a bit of a situation on my hands rn.
Then a photo pops up of her house with two police cars parked at the front and Harry’s stomach drops.
HARRY: I’m going over.
He sends the message before he could even think it through and he is already out the door by the time she reads his reply.
When he arrives one of the police cars is still there and Y/N is out front, talking to an officer. She is lacking her usual on-spot style, wearing a baggy sweat set, her hair in a state of mess he has never seen before, but even despite the worried expression on her face, she looks annoyingly beautiful.
She spots him as he gets out of his car, crossing the lawn with a slow jog.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, on the verge of losing his marbles if he doesn’t find out what happened immediately.
“Give me a minute,” she tells him, turning back to the officer. “Thank you for everything. I’ll let you know if I find anything that’s missing.”
“Take care, Miss. We’ll have a car patrol around the neighborhood every hour for the next 24 hours, though it’s unlikely they will come back.”
With a nod, the officer walks over to the car, gets in and they drive away.
“What the hell happened?” Harry asks when Y/N finally turns to him.
“Someone broke into my house,” she says and then just simply heads back inside. Harry jogs after her.
“What? When?”
Y/N is walking straight to her kitchen and Harry follows her, locking the front door behind him.
“I went to a yoga class in the morning. When I came back, I noticed my lock was picked and the door was open.”
Harry watches her rummage through a cabinet before grabbing a bottle of tequila along with two glasses. She shoots a questioning look to him, to which he just nods, though he is still lost, confused and kind of angry. She pours a generous amount into both glasses and then hands one over to Harry before chugging hers down faster than ever.
“Did anything go missing?”
“Literally nothing,” she laughs bitterly. “Everything seems untouched and I just don’t understand it at all. Why would someone break in if they don’t take anything valuable?”
“Money? Jewelry? Everything is here?”
“Everything. I checked everything.”
Harry is now just as clueless as Y/N. It doesn’t make any sense, but it’s also somehow even worse. Whoever broke in had a reason to, but it’s completely hidden for now.
When she reaches for the bottle again he notices how much her hands are shaking. She is a nervous wreck.
“Hey, you don’t want to lose your rationality right now,” Harry softly warns her as he grabs her hand and stops her from pouring another one.
“I’m fucking terrified, Harry,” she admits, her voice shakes and so weak like never before. Harry’s heart breaks for her. “Have you ever felt unsafe in your own home?”
“I have,” Harry answers without hesitation and that’s when she finally looks him in the eyes again. “I had a few stalkers throughout the years and attempted break-ins.”
And just like that, something changes in her. The last bits of the wall she so carefully built up between the two of them are destroyed and she lets him see her fully and so naked emotionally. Her lips tremble, tears dwell in her eyes and just as the first sob breaks out of her chest, he is pulling her into his embrace.
For a second Harry thinks it might be just luck, that she is only opening up to him like this because he is the one who is physically here with her, but he then wipes this thought and just focuses on being the support she truly needs.
He holds her tight as she cries into his chest, pressing kisses to the top of her head until she calms down and regains control over her breathing.
“Pack a bag for a few days, stay at mine for a bit, okay?” he softly says when she finally pulls back, just enough to look at him. She doesn’t try to put up a fight, just nods and lets him walk her up to her bedroom.
He helps her pack, she grabs the clothes while Harry packs her laptop and chargers. Half an hour later they are getting into his car before heading over to Harry’s place. The car ride is silent and Harry doesn’t even try to talk her through it. He knows how important it is to let her find her own peace in this situation instead of trying to just temporarily divert her attention.
It’s actually her first time at his place, so she is curiously examining the place when they finally arrive. Harry shows her around quickly and then they reach the bedrooms upstairs.
“Choose a bedroom, personally my favorite is that one,” he smiles softly, pointing at the one next to his own bedroom. She walks closer and peeks inside, then into his bedroom and he watches her patiently.
“Can I… sleep with you?”
Her request surprises him, but he would be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t hoping for it.
“Sure, of course,” he nods and gestures for her to walk inside.
He sets down her bag to the ottoman at the end of his king sized bed while she looks around. Harry grabs a towel for her from the closet and hands it over to her.
“Take a shower, I’ll make tea for you, how does that sound?”
She just nods, holding the towel to her chest and he can’t believe how vulnerable she looks. The Y/N he’s known for the past few months is nothing like the woman standing in front of him right now.
“Alright, then I’ll…”
He clears his throat and then turns around to give her privacy, but he doesn’t even get to take a step before she grabs his hand and pulls him back. He opens his mouth to ask what else she needs, but he is met with her lips pressing against his, hard and needy and he wastes no time to return the kiss just as passionately. His arms curl around her tightly, like an armor, ready to protect her from anything and everything.
They stumble into the bathroom and she pulls away, just enough so that she can start stripping out of her clothes, but Harry stops for a minute before things get too heated too fast.
“Wait, are you… Today was a lot, are you sure you… want to…?”
“I’m sure. I need this,” she nods and even though she appears just as vulnerable as before, there’s some kind of strong will mixed in her state now. Harry stares back at her, looking for any kind of sign that this might be a bad idea, but then she adds: “I need you.”
And Harry knows in that moment that he would give her anything in this world, because he fell for her again, but this time, it’s nothing like he has ever felt before.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurb
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fatherly duties (April 25th prompt; Thrill) @jilymicrofics
“You’re staring, Lil.”
Lily startles, nearly knocking James off his feet as she spins around to face him.
“Woah,” he breathes, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. “Just me.”
Lily frowns up at him, though she can’t completely hide the slight blush that warms her cheeks, noticing his bemused expression. “I wasn’t staring James, I was just—“
“Staring. Yeah.” James interrupts cheekily, giving her his typical lopsided grin.
“Checking.” Lily corrects him, crossing her arms. “I was just checking if he’s alright.”
James’s smirk softens at that, and is replaced by an understanding smile. “Yeah.” he says quietly, looking past her at the door to Harry’s bedroom, which stands slightly ajar. “I was about to do that, though. One of my fatherly duties.”
Lily can’t help but chuckle at his feigned displeased frown. “Oh, is it now?” she asks amusedly. “And what else, may I ask, would those fatherly duties include?”
James presses a finger to his chin, thinking. “Well…there’s telling horribly flat jokes, for one.” he muses, smirking slightly at Lily’s eye roll.
“Hm, they’re called Dad jokes, I think.” she replies, acting as though this conversation was indeed very serious.
James can hardly hold back a laugh. “Yes, yes, exactly those.” he agrees. “Oh! and there’s also, teaching him all the hidden ways around Hogwarts and—“
Lily slaps his chest. “James Potter!” she hisses quietly. “He’s gotten into more than enough trouble on his own, he definitely doesn’t need your encouragement.”
“Alright, alright.” James sighs, but in all honesty, he does agree with Lily. Hearing about Harry‘s many previous escapes has had them both feeling less than thrilled, to say the least.
“Well, I’ve got another one then,” he adds, walking up closer to the door to peak inside the moon lit room — the room that once belonged to Sirius and now hosts his son. “Protecting him, with my life.”
Lily feels her chest constricting with the entirety of the statement. “With our lives.” she corrects him quietly, leaning her head against his shoulder.
She watches Harry’s sleeping face, and tries her best not to think of the last time they’d vowed to do that — and the last time they almost did do that. And she’d do it again, in a heartbeat.
James wraps his arm around her shoulders, kissing the side of her head.
“Merlin, I’d take a hundred curses for that kid,” he says after a minute. Then, with a breathed chuckle. “Although, you know, I’d still prefer not having to bite the grass anytime soon.”
Lily smiles weakly. “You always hated to eat your greens.”
James turns his head to look down at her, an incredulous expression on his handsome face, before he suddenly bursts out laughing. “Wow.” he snorts. “Can’t believe Prefect and Head Girl Lily Evans would ever pull a pun.”
Lily giggles despite herself, reveling in this moment of quiet solitude. “Oh, she’d never,” she replies with mocked disapproval, before her lips tug into a smile. “But Lily Potter certainly would.”
She thinks James’s smile could probably light the entire bloody house. “I love you, Mrs. Potter.” he smiles, like the love struck teenager he hasn’t been in almost seventeen years.
Lily blushes, although she reckons she really shouldn’t anymore, being in her thirties and all. “I love you too, Mr. Potter.”
A slight creak to their right makes them both turn, and Lily’s blush increases, now twinged with a bit of guilt as she’s met with the confused eyes of their son.
“Dunno what’s more worth asking about,” Harry lulls tiredly, blinking against the light in the hallway. “Why you two’ve been standing in front of my bedroom for the past half hour, or what’s gotten you to giggle on about…?”
Lily bites her lip, sparing Harry a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sweetheart,” she replies genuinely. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”
“We’re just checking on you.” James adds, perhaps unnecessarily.
Lily notices the look of confusion on Harry‘s face. “Uh…right,” he replies slowly. “Checking for what?”
“To know you’re okay.” she explains gently.
Harry raises a brow, lips twitching amusedly. “I’m fine,” he chuckles. “I was asleep, you know…not much I could do that you’d have to check on.”
“It’s just a nice change,” James pipes up, clearly wanting to lighten their conversation. “You — sleeping so quietly, not scurrying around, beating your old man at quidditch.”
Harry snorts. “Yeah, well, I could still beat you, even with my eyes closed.” he retorts jokingly.
James gasps in mock appall; „In your dreams!“
Harry snickers, with that same cheeky glint in his eyes which Lily‘s seen plenty of times before, on James. “Yeah, there too.”
#harry potter#james potter#jily#jily microfic#lily potter#jily lives#hp ootp#hp#potter family#grimmauld place#quidditch
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family of two
(Hinny, 1k words, post-war)
The water flows heavily over the empty sink. Ginny watches it for a moment before sighing and shutting off the tap. She dries her hands and, when she turns, she finds her fiance leaning against the door jamb, watching her with a wrinkle between his brow.
She forces herself to smile calmly. “How are the little devils?”
“Passed away on the couch.”
“The bedroom was too far for them?”
A chuckle. “They wrecked the house so much during the day that I was surprised they’ve only slept now. I am expecting at least twelve hours of peace.”
Her smile is more natural now. “You wish. Teddy wakes up with the sun.”
“And when he does, so does Vic.” Harry sighs exaggeratedly, though she knows it’s more for show than anything; he clearly dotes on the kids. That clenches her throat. “Well, that’s— six hours and twenty-three minutes of peace.”
“We should only take them in during winter,” she reasons. “Fewer sun hours.”
Another chuckle, one that doesn’t disguise that furrow on his forehead. He walks to her, concern over joy winning his face with every step, and Ginny tries to shrug, turning around to start drying the dishes. Harry doesn’t let her; his arms pull her closer, taking the towel out of her hand, mouth brushing over her neck.
An invitation to let go of her worries.
“What’s on your mind?”
She leans against his chest, accepting his warmth. “Who says I’m worried?”
A small chuckle; the air coming from his nose makes her shiver. His lips trace her skin. “You sighed four times. You did the dishes without magic. Your shoulders are all stiff. Pick one.”
“You know me too well—this can’t be good for our relationship.”
“I thought that was the mark of a good relationship.” Harry places a kiss over the column of her neck. “But I don’t know what’s troubling you.”
“Maybe I can have some secrets.”
Harry sighs. “You can,” he agrees, and then he moves to sniff the scent of her hair as he has done hundreds of times before, as if this is the air he needs. His hands lose their grip and Ginny knows Harry is about to press one last kiss to her, and then move back, drawn away to give her the space she needs; and she knows that if he does, she will just store away her concern, hoping it fades away and then—then it will resurface when she is not ready to deal with it, stronger and scarier than she feels now.
“I don’t know if I want to have kids,” blurts Ginny.
She turns to face him, heart beating painfully in her chest. Harry is blinking, mouth opened almost comically, and she hopes it’s more because of how she said it than because of what she said.
Or not. She knows Harry has always sought a family, she knows how important it is to him. A part of her always imagined starting a family with him, but then it was a long-distance concept, something far in the future, when even her twenties seemed afar. She has witnessed a few pregnancies now in her sisters-in-law, has seen all the ways the parents have to adapt—she has a fair guess why Bill and Fleur love when Vic spends the night with her uncles or aunt—, has seen the impact and none of it has been appealing so far. If there is magic in being pregnant, she has not witnessed it yet.
Harry is still quiet.
“I know I don’t want them now,” she adds. “There are so many things happening—”
Harry coughs. “We are too young,” he agrees, almost in a conciliatory voice; Ginny supposes she could accept this path for their talk, but then it wouldn’t be fair.
“But I can’t tell you when I will want it either. Or if I will. And if this is too much—I will understand if—” She swallows hard, voice almost breaking. “If you want to be with someone that shares this urge—”
“Hey.” Harry seems alarmed now, arms wrapping her as if to steady her as much as himself. “I am not with you because I want your—your womb, or something—”
“I saw you with Teddy and Vic. Pampering them, dealing with their little conflicts, teaching them—you want to be a father.”
“No, I want a family. And I have it here, with you. If we are a family of two—so be it, then.”
“And tomorrow—”
“Tomorrow I will still have you, your brothers, Hermione, Teddy. You are right, I’ve always wanted a family, the one I never got while growing up, and the thing is—I got it. I just didn’t want to be alone.”
“Harry, you will never be alone again.”
“I know it.” He smiles, his eyes shining as he sees something there with her and beyond. “And it’s not spreading my genes or seeing more Potters in the world that will change this, though—” He takes her hand, swirls the silver ring. “I would like at least one more Potter unless you are reconsidering letting me take your last name.”
Ginny laughs, some tension gone from her shoulders. “Harry Weasley would sound terrible,” she says, an echo of many conversations they’ve had about it, and just like all those times, Harry kisses her softly. “I’m sorry for dumping this on you,” she mumbles when they break apart. “It feels like something we should have discussed before, only I never considered how I felt about it, not really.”
“I’m glad we’ve had this conversation”, says Harry, and he sounds only earnest. “And I don’t want—I hope you never feel like there is something we can’t discuss. I love you.”
She presses her lips over his, lingering, just feeling the touch that can calm her more than anything else. “And I love you.” Ginny winks at him. “Do you wanna enjoy our remaining six hours of peace?”
Harry grins warmly. “How long until winter again?”
#Hinny#Post War Hinny#One shot#Discussing of having children#Harry never asks her why she feels this way#and I have a lot of thoughts about this
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Imagine Mattheo and Theodore fighting over you constantly.
P.1
Reader x Mattheo Riddle / Reader x Theodore Nott
"The picknick was a good idea, I have to admit." I say, dropping another grape into my mouth, a full mouth turned into a smile. I sneak another one out of the basket Theo is carrying.
I glance over at Theo and he nods, grinning. He winks. "I know, Carina. I always have the best ideas, you should know that by now." I roll my eyes in amusement at his cocky statement.
As if on cue, I see a brown mop of curls rounding the corner, making me sigh. Great. Just great.
"Hey, what a surprise." Mattheo says, not seeming too happy as his eyes land on Theodore beside me. Mattheo shuffles something inside his jacket, flashing white, which I only catch a glimpse of. But I can't even question what it was before these two begin staring each other down.
An undeniably painful pause is the only thing holding me back from just turning around to run away. It's scaring me to even move a muscle. If these two don't sort out whatever is bugging them, I won't hesitate and avoid them both. I really did try to help them befriend each other once more. Their inner rivalry didn't get unnoticed by the rest of our friend group either. What has gotten into them these past few weeks?
"(Y/N), let's get going." Theo's free hand wraps around my wrist, not even glancing at me once while talking. He turns and tries to pull me with him, but not before Mattheo steps up, pushing Theo.
I stumble with him, still being in the grasp of Theo's strong hand. He let go and I take a step back.
"Excuse me?!" I get out before straightening up, rearranging my cloak. My glare hits Mattheo, but he is fixed on the boy in front of him as they now nearly graze noses. If I didn't know these two, I'd say one of them would be a Gryffindor. That would make sense at least. This is worse than Draco and Harry.
"Where do you think you're taking her, huh?" He grits out, and I can't say a word, too stunned I am being dragged into this ongoing fight now.
"Stop it, both of you!" I yell, but neither of them are backing down, making it really hard not to just ask a Professor to break them off. I glance around, only a few students hushing past, not daring to spare a look.
"We are going somewhere that is none of your concern, Riddle."
"Yeah? I don't think so, Nott."
"Why don't you fuck off and shag one of your whores, mind your own damn business!"
I had never seen either of them so worked up, which certainly was scary to look at. I try once more, "boys, come on, this is ridiculous." I gulp as they still don't look at me. My heart starts racing, and I try to find a way out that won't result in broken noses or wands at each other throats. What is going on with these two?!
"Come on, (Y/N)." Theo says again, making me debate what I should do. Pick a side? I don't want to be the reason one is more mad or disappointed by what I do.
"No." I mumble, feeling my eyes sting as I blink. I gulp once more, Theo's eyes finding my form a few feet behind Mattheo. His face relaxes as he looks at me.
"See? She doesn't want you, Nott." I can only make out the corner of Mattheo's lips as they curl up into a grin. Which doesn't help my situation.
"I'm not picking a side here, Matt, you are both acting extremely childish over – over, who knows what!" I turn and storm off, ignoring Matt and Theo yelling my name.
These idiots took it too far now. I won't speak a word – won't spare them another glance. Ugh, boys!
___
"-and he pushed Theo! Like a little kid! What is going on with these two?" I sat across from Pansy, piercing my fork into my piece of chocolate cake over and over again until it went mushy and the appetite left me. I sigh, my fork dropping onto the table, and I bury my face into my hands.
"You know them. They will get over it. Theo probably stole Matt's last fudge fly. They're boys, just like you said." She mumbles and keeps chewing on her dessert, eyes scanning the next page of her Witch Weekly magazine.
"I hope you're right." I mutter under my breath.
"Hey you two-" Draco joins us at the table, sitting down next to Pansy, Enzo settles beside me, I send him a brief smile.
"What's pestering you, (Y/N)? Or should I ask – who's pestering you?" He snickers and earns a stare from Pansy, making him shut up.
"Wait – do you know something, Draco?" I ask him and squint my eyes at him. He obviously does, as he stutters for a word, shaking his head. His cheeks slightly pink.
"Enzo, what is going on? Where are the others?" I turn to him, he sighs but shakes his head, sending me a small and sorry smile.
"I promised not to tell anyone. Especially not you, love." I grow irritated with the lot and push myself up, sending another glare at Draco, he would be easier to break. I take out my wand, holding it by my side and start boring holes into his head. He tries to avoid my deathly stare. But then he makes the mistake of connecting his eyes with mine.
"If you won't tell me right now where they are, I will personally make sure to have you grow a second nose every day, for the rest of the year – you will smell things you wish you didn't –"
"– come on, (Y/N), we promised –"
"– In the library, in the far back corner on the second level –" Draco squeaks, making Enzo glare at him in shock.
"We promised, Draco!"
"I don't care, I know she'll do it. I don't want a nose on my bum one morning! She knows how to get into our dorm." Draco snarls and glares at the table as I hurry off. Pansy only smirking and eating her second dessert in peace.
"Go get them!" She calls out without looking up and I wave her off, pushing past a few people on my way. My heart is racing and I don't know if I want to even meet these idiots. I promised myself to ignore them. Well that didn't take long for me to break.
I round the corner and walk into the library. My racing thoughts made this quiet place unbearable as I heard every damn thought of mine. But just as I take the last couple steps on the stairwell, I am met with hushed shouting.
"– how about you're both idiots? I really am hungry and if you two make me miss dinner, you won't sleep another night –" I hear Blaise taunting. I glance between a few books on the shelf, making out three heads. There they are. Blaise sits by the window, I could see his face clear as day. Theo sat sideways, eyes turned to the table in between them both. Mattheo on the other hand stands, pacing back and forth. He stops, just as my breath.
"Theo simply has to admit that he went behind my back. He took away the only thing that really mattered –"
"The only thing that mattered? The only thing that mattered to you was to simply get laid! Like always – just pick a different girl!" Theo stands up too now, Mattheo stepping up to his figure.
Blaise suddenly steps between them, hands on either chest and looks back and forth. "Hey, boys, you truly think we haven't had these lines already tonight? You're both ridiculous."
So this is about a girl? Is this about –
"Well, (Y/N) would never pick someone like you."
Shit.
"Like me? You're one to talk, Nott – stealing her from me, right after I told you I liked her. I trusted you, you are supposed to be my fucking best mate!" Their hushed voices are not so hushed anymore and I glance down to Miss Pince's desk. She narrows her eyes, scanning the upper level.
Blaise is struggling to hold Mattheo back now, Theo's lips curling into a smirk. I lean closer, my eyes still wide. How do they both like – me? Is this a stupid prank?
WHACK!
I was obviously leaning onto the shelf a bit too much as a book fell to the ground. Their heads turn to me and I could now clearly see all of them through the opening. I give them a weak smile and wave. "Hey –"
"(Y/N)?" Theo asks, stepping forward, around the shelf. I meet him half way, Mattheo’s eyes as hard as stone. My mouth feels dry while I try to think of what to say. I shrug and try to smile. My eyes land on Blaise who seems relieved, sighing as he walks up to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder, glancing between Theo and Matt.
“Maybe you’re the best to talk to them right now.” He pats my shoulder and turns to leave, I turn my head, wanting to tell him to stay, my heart racing. Blaise stops, glancing back at me. “Good luck.” He smirks and skips down the staircase. I really don’t want to turn back around so I take my time, gulping as I focus on both their shoe pairs instead of any eyes. Theo steps up slowly. “Carina, what did you hear?” My eyes shoot up at his question and Matt huffs, falling back into a cushioned arm chair.
“Obviously she heard it all. Otherwise she would be smacking our heads by now.” He mumbles at the end, his head held high as he’s glaring down at his knees, his hands squeezing the soft armrests. His sharp jaw clenching every now and then.
“I- I really-“ I take a deep breath shaking my head. “- don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” Theo sends me a small encouraging smile. Matt’s head rolls back as he groans out.
“Oh please, stop that stupid emphasizing scheme!” Matt stands back up and joins us, glaring at Theo in disgust. Theo just rolls his eyes, turning to him.
“Just because you’re cold-hearted and only care about yourself doesn’t mean everyone has to-“
“-oh I only care about myself? You’re one to talk, fucking backstabber-“
“-Me? You are-“
“Hey!” I yell out, them both turning to me as they are once again almost choking each other. I ignore a few shushes thrown our way. Mattheo’s eyes soften as I look directly at him. His lips part and in his eyes I see that he’s struggling to hold back from saying what’s on his mind. “Matt-“ I get out, holding back my own emotional rollercoaster.
“I- I can’t-“ He stammers, rushing past me and running down the stairs, leaving. I walk up to the railing, my hands closing around the cold wood while I am looking after him.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” My head snaps around, Theo’s sad eyes glossy. He looks down, stepping closer and stops a foot from me. His eyes wandering back up, like he’s taking one last good look at me. Taking me in.
“It’s always been him.” He continues.
———
For part two choose your ending:
Mattheo (coming soon)
Theodore (coming soon)
#imagine#imagines#harry potter#harry potter imagine#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle x reader#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott#theodore nott imagine#slytherin#slytherin boys
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buzzcut - blurb
this kinda sucks but it was on my drafts sooo why not, hope you enjoy !
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
//
"I wonder how would I look with my head shaved." Harry randomly said one night both of you were cuddled up in bed.
"Where is that coming from, lovie?" You looked up at him, curious by his sudden statement.
"Dunno, I've never in my almost 30 years of age had a buzzcut," he shrugged, "I feel like It's part of manhood to shave your head at least once."
"Your manhood is just fine," you rolled your eyes with affection and pecked his chin, "But if you want to know how you'd look with no hair, you can always look for those AI pictures your fans have been making lately."
Harry laughed and kissed the crown of your head, leaving the conversation at that and focusing on the romantic comedy movie you picked for the night.
Days passed by and you soon forgot about your conversation and Harry didn't bring up his desire to shave his head again, so when he mentioned that he wanted to get a haircut you assumed that he was getting his usual trim.
Oh boy, were you wrong.
"I want to chop my hair a bit before we head to Vegas." He said a week before your trip, Jeff kept insisting that you needed to see the show he had been working on at the Sphere and you finally agreed.
"That's fine, just don't do anything extreme you know I love the curls." You replied, unaware of what he had up in his sleeve.
"Nothing to worry about, baby." You failed to notice the devilish smile on his face that gave away that he was planning something else.
The following day Harry told you that he was going to Ayae's place to get his haircut, which was weird to you because his hairdresser always came to your house to cut his hair, but you still didn't overthink it too much.
Until you got a text from her that read "Don't kill me or your boyfriend for what he made me do."
Just a minute after you got the text you heard the front door open and your name being called from downstairs.
"H are you home? Ayae texted me but I don't know what she means." You said as you made your way to him, he was standing in your living room, his hair being covered by the hood of his hoodie.
"I cut my hair," he said and a confused frown made its way to your face, "And I'm going to show it to you, but you need to promise me you won't freak."
"Why would I freak? Why are you acting so weird about it?"
Harry only smiled and pulled the hood from his head, revealing that his brand new buzzcut.
You stood in your place for a few minutes before reacting, "Is this some kind of joke?"
"It's not love! I shaved it," he got closer to you, a big smile on his face, “Do you like it?”
“Oh my god! Your hair is really gone! What the fuck, Harry.” You laughed in disbelief, grabbing his face to get a better look at him.
“I told you I wanted to give it a try before my twenties ended, remember?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you shook your head, “This is crazy! Does Jeff know? Forget about him does your mom know? Oh my god we need to facetime her right now.”
Harry laughed at your rant, “Jeff knows love, he wants to shave his too, and we’ll facetime mum later,” he pecked your lips quickly, “Now wipe that look off your face! You’re looking at me like I’m an alien!”
“This is just so weird, but also such a you thing to do,” you pecked his lips back, “Your fans are going to be absolutely nuts about this.”
“Lord, that’s what i’m dreading the most.”
A week later you and Harry were standing in the crowd of U2's concert at the Las Vegas Sphere, surrounded by friends and other concertgoers.
Somehow Harry's new look gave him a little more privacy, since the world didn't know that his signature brown curls were gone and he could go unnoticed sometimes.
"You've been busted." You said as you noticed a phone camera filming the both of you, Harry was standing behind you with his hand protectively gripping your neck.
"What, love?" He asked, making you discretely point at the person with the camera.
"Well, I guess the madness stars now."
A day later, pictures and videos of Harry's new haircut flooded the internet, making his fans go crazy once again.
taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin n @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia a @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry
#harry styles fake instagram#harry styles imagine#harry styles fluff#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurb#harry styles one shot#harry styles writing#harry styles x you#harry styles fic#harry styles au#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles headcanon#harry styles fake social media#harry styles fic rec#harrysfolklore#harry styles instagram concept#harry styles headcannon#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fan fic#1k
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The Stranger & The Thief (roommate!abo)
prompt: YN needs a roommate but has never been around alphas. Harry is the alpha her parents warned her about.
word count: 9.6k+
author’s note: hii guys. enjoy there is currently six more parts up of this series on my patreon which you can join for $3USD!
+++++++++++++++
YN didn’t mind alphas.
Not at all.
YN had grown up in a solely beta household which meant out of all of her family, she was the only omega.
It was difficult growing up, trying to figure out all the intricacies of her secondary gender when her family had no idea what any of it was or what it meant.
Heat was something that had been tortuous to figure out because she did that completely on her own.
All her parents could do was put food and water outside the locked bedroom door periodically as the heat, the pain, the agony persisted for at least five days before she started to feel relief.
A depression always followed for another week.
Then anxiety would start to consistently hurt her chest in the week leading up to her heat because her body is dreading the impending doom, of being dragged through the cycle with nothing that seemed to soothe the ache for her.
YN logically knew the solution would be an alpha, an alpha would be able to solve the problems that she was able to figure out on her own, in the privacy of her bedroom.
However, she grew up in a community that was mostly consisting of betas and omegas, there were a few alphas but none that would have been an option for YN.
Alphas intimidated her.
They were aggressive, demanding, dominant whereas she grew up around betas and omegas who were nurturing, empathic, patient.
It was two different worlds and though her parents did not speak down on alphas, that had made it clear that they felt like YN should settle for a nice beta.
YN never thought anything of it.
She did not crave an alpha.
Well…only during her heats but outside of that, there was no desire to mate with one.
All of her partners up until this point had been betas, that had been just fine for her, none of them were too serious.
The closest she got to a serious relationship was Tate, a gentle beta who was nice, thoughtful, and everything YN thought that she wanted in a partner.
It had been going strong for a few months when her heat had hit.
Tate had come over to offer assistance like they had previously discussed but it had not worked out well at all.
+
YN was embarrassed, she knew she had to face her boyfriend sooner or later, and she put it off for two more days after her heat.
They met at the coffee shop that was an even distance between their apartments.
Tate’s demeanor was off from the minute he sat down, he refused to look at YN directly in the eye, and he didn’t reach out to hold her hand across the table like he normally did anytime that they were out together.
He was the one who spoke first, “This isn’t going to work out.”
YN’s eyes widen in utter disbelief, things had been going so well up until her heat, “Tate, you cannot be serious. I…I’m sorry I acted that way but I did not know that was how I was going to react! We…I won’t ask you to help me out again but we don’t have to break up over it.”
Tate laughs without any humor, “I truly never thought you were a knot-snob.”
YN tenses at the derogatory term, it felt venomous coming out of his mouth, “Why would you say that? I’ve never even been interested in an alpha!”
He shakes his head, lips curling upwards in the slightest, “Really? Because I came over to help you, brought groceries, other things to help take care of you, and when I walked into the bedroom, you growled at me like you were feral.”
YN swallows harshly, she remembers, very vaguely and almost through a fog but she knows what he is saying is truthful.
“You demanded I leave because I was a ‘poor excuse of a man’ because I was a beta,” Tate’s anger cracks into something more devastated which made her feel awful because that was never her intention to hurt him, she would never purposely do that, “You said that I must be delusional to think I could satisfy you. Only an alpha could.”
YN knows there’s tears brimming at her eyes, she was aware of how nasty she had been to him, didn’t fully remember everything she had said but she did believe him about what he was repeating because it’s what went through her mind.
She remembers feeling disgust at seeing him, none of that love she normally has for him was present in her mind at the time, just pure anger that a beta thought that they could please her.
“We just don’t have to spend my heat together, Tate,” YN tries, she truly liked him, loved him as a friend, and saw potential in loving him as a partner.
Tate scoffs, self-deprecating as he finally meets her eye, “I will never be enough for you, YN. I know you weren’t in your right headspace when I came over but your nature made it very clear that you would never be satisfied in our relationship.”
He takes a deep breath, “You…You were a whole different person when I came to you. I thought omegas were supposed to be sweet, pliant, and gentle during their heats. You were agitated, aggressive, and hostile in a way that truly frightened me.”
“Tate, please,” YN reaches for his hand but he retracts it instinctually back onto his lap.
“I…I am not doing this because I want it to be like this. I saw a future with you, truly, I did. I…I really think that you should be with an alpha because it’d be unfair for you and the beta if you continue to date them,” Tate sighs as he gathers his coat, he does have that same gentleness when he gives her a soft smile, “I do wish you the best of luck, YN.”
++
YN had curled in on herself after that, tucked away into a shell, and has been in there ever since.
It’s been about six month since she’d broken up with Tate and she had made the mistake of asking another beta for help during her heat, it was friend who knew what they were in for but she just had to really make sure that it was unsafe for her to be with a beta before she ruled them out of her dating life.
++
YN was only on the precipice of her heat, hoping that if the beta came while she was still more cognizant that it would go more smoothly.
That turned out to be an absolute mistake.
Trevor was coming with the idea that he may need to leave within a few minutes of being there or he could be staying for the length of her heat depending on how it would go.
She had given him the key to get into her apartment so that he didn’t have to wait around for her to answer the door.
YN unfortunately remembers the events that transpire but even though she was aware during their interaction, she felt out of control of her body as she typically did in heat where she couldn’t stop herself from reacting as her wolf mind wanted her to.
“YN? Are you alright? I’m here,” Trevor calls out, smiling when YN appears in the small hallway of the apartment, “Oh hey, sorry I was late but there was a line at the store -”
YN’s eyes are wild, unfocused, and her hair is already messy from rolling around in her nest that she had spent time meticulously building as she started to fall into her heat, “Get the fuck out.”
“YN, listen we talked about -” Trevor begins easily, undeterred at first by her words.
“What? Do you think that you’re going to help me through this heat?” YN laughs meanly, shaking her head with a sharp, cruel smile, “I can smell you. What a weak fucking scent. A beta comes into my home like they can satisfy my heat. You are a joke to think you could give me what an alpha could.”
Trevor swallowed harshly, trying not to let the words hurt his feelings, his masculinity, the security he typically felt in his secondary gender but YN’s words were meant to gnaw at his insides, make him question himself.
“YN,” Trevor replies firmer, standing a bit straighter despite his hands trembling.
“Beta,” She replies but it rolls off her tongue like an insult, “You are nothing to me. You think I would want pups from a weak fucking beta? I’d rather never have a knot in my life than the little you have to offer me. You will never be my alpha.”
Trevor has to bite back the insulting name he would want to call her, knowing that that wouldn’t be helpful but also that him being here was not going to be helpful nor did he want to stay because he was worried she was about to rip his throat out.
He shakes his head, a sour taste in his mouth at the rejection of the omega, he had already been insecure in comparison to the alphas around him.
However, he had a crush on YN, he was stupid for thinking that she would magically be okay with him supporting her through her heat, and now he was realizing that was an absolute mistake because he felt worse than he ever as has before.
In the moment, that was her goal to make him feel that he was less than and she had succeeded.
“I’m just going to leave,” Trevor tells her as he turns towards the door, his bottom lip was quivering as he hangs his head, trying desperately to rationalize this, this wasn’t the kind, sweet, YN that he normally knew, this was feral at best.
“Good,” YN coos as she stands defensively in the door, her eyes were darker than Trevor had ever seen them and the smile on her face wasn’t one that relayed friendliness, it was like she was about to downright murder him.
Trevor has never moved so fast in his life.
++
YN was lucid enough during that to understand why Trevor avoided her like the plague after that, never returning her texts, and the one time she ran into him at the gas station, well he acted like he’d never seen her a day in his life.
She held no blame or ill-will, the things she said were nasty, cruel, and unlike her normal character but it wasn’t an excuse.
YN sent him a few long messages detailing how sorry she was, how she regretted putting him in that situation because she valued him as a friend but they all got left on read.
After that, she stopped trying to find anyone to help her with her heat.
She deleted her dating apps and pushed off the idea of finding someone else.
YN also went to the doctor for her erratic behavior during these times.
“Heat-Induced Aggression and Rage Disorder,” The doctor had told her simply, unphased by her explanation of her symptoms, “Most omegas can spend their cycle with any secondary gender, even other omegas. However, the disorder occurs when an omega requires an alpha and will become aggressive when a beta or an omega attempts to help.”
“How do I solve it?” YN asks desperately, this meant that she would never be able to spend her heat with someone and she couldn’t possibly imagine actually being with an alpha, she’d never been around one, really.
YN, of course, came in contact with alphas on the day-to-day, it wasn’t like they were rare.
It was that she didn’t have any friends, coworkers, or connections to alphas because she was in such a densely populated beta area before moving to the city after she graduated college.
“You need to find an alpha who’s willing to spend your heats with you or continue to spend you heats alone,” The doctor shrugs without any better explanation, “Unless you wish to take medication to completely stop your cycle but that has major medical risks that I would advise against, especially if you ever wish to have children.”
++
That’s where YN is at, with a disorder that doesn’t have a treatment that sounds remotely reasonable to her.
Searching whether in person or online for an alpha partner was extremely unsafe which meant that she had resorted to the fact that she would forever spend her heats alone, in pain.
It made her jealous when her omega friends bragged about how enjoyable, how blissful their heats were spent with their partners.
YN wishes she loved hers but instead, she finds herself thinking death sounds more pleasurable than forever spending five days locked in her bedroom by herself, a slave to her own nature with no help from anyone.
++ a year later ++
YN was going to pull her hair out, it was official because why was it so hard to find someone who appeared somewhat normal to fill the empty bedroom in her apartment?
For the last three years, YN had lived in peaceful harmony with her beta friend, Eileen.
Eileen had started dating her girlfriend, Regina, right after they moved in together.
Two weeks ago, Eileen had let YN know that she was moving out and in with Regina after their recent engagement which meant that she no longer had any income to help her with the rent nor the utilities in less than a month.
YN could technically afford everything on her own, the lease was in her name but it made money tight enough that she had to budget down to the dollar which she despised doing - it was much more manageable when she had someone splitting the bills with her.
And because she would rather not have to cut back on her frivolous spending like her unreasonable expensive smoothies and sure, maybe everytime she sees a pair of socks that look exceptionally comfy she feels the need to buy them.
However, after a third interview with a potential flatmate, YN thought that this may be an impossible task and she should already start her budgeting because there had been issues with all three interviewees.
The first, beta, needed the bathroom from six to nine pm with no explanation as to why.
The second, an omega, stated that she would need to be able to conduct an in-person yoga lesson with six people every other day in their living room.
The third, another beta, demanded that they split the fridge storage fifty-fifty because their last roommate put milk on their shelf of the fridge which they defined as a ‘personal attack’ because they were vegan.
So hopeless is where she found herself after that third beta.
That’s where Niall comes in, her lovely lovely beta friend who sometimes she worries has rocks for brain and other times he’s absolutely the most brilliant being to ever walk the earth, it just honestly depends on the day.
However, she could kiss him when he arrives at her apartment with a bag of chinese takeout and something to solve all of her issues completely, “I have a mate from work who needs a place. He makes good money so I know he’d have no issue paying his part. He’s cool, I trust him enough to recommend him, I’ve worked with him for like six years.”
YN barely even hesitated, she trusted Niall enough to know that he wouldn’t have offered the solution if he didn’t think that it was a good option for her.
He does get sheepish halfway through, “I…I did forget to mention that he’s an alpha.”
YN pauses at that, narrowing her eyes at him because he definitely left that part out in the initial description.
“Niall-” YN begins to huff because it’s not that she totally objected but it was something for her to consider and he had just left that out.
“I know, I know,” Niall puts his hands up, “He’s cool though. He really keeps to himself. I know you’ve never been around alphas, let alone live with one but I really think it would be fine. Don’t you trust me? Plus, he really needs a place to stay.”
YN really should give it more thought.
“He just texted and said he’d be willing to pay three thirds of the rent,” Niall tells her as he looks down at his phone, “If he can move in as soon as possible. Plus he’ll cover internet and electric.”
YN really really should think on it.
She’d never been around an alpha, let alone lived with one, she needs to think about it, weigh the pros and cons.
“Tell him he can move in on Friday,” YN finds herself saying and before she can think better of it, Niall is quickly typing away on his phone and the text alert goes off.
“He said that works for him,” Niall gives her an oblivious thumbs up before picking back up his container of rice and clicking the movie back on like he didn’t just wheel and deal the quickest decision she’s ever made in her life.
She didn’t even ask his name.
++
YN typically isn’t this dumb.
She actually prided herself on her impulse control and rational thinking but as she flutters around the apartment on Friday evening, trying to make it as spotless as possible for her new flatmate, she really starts to question her own sanity.
YN realizes that she’s going to have to have serious conversations with this alpha about boundaries, what will they do when it comes to their cycles, and the thought that their scents will run rampant because they obviously won’t use neutralizers when they’re at home.
Niall had not given much more information beside the fact that his name was Harry, he was twenty-eight, and had a higher up position in the company than Niall so they didn’t always have much interaction, Niall had actually just overheard a conversation he was having on the phone.
YN finds out that he had lived on his own since college but after his landlord decided he was going to sell the house he was renting, Harry had to find somewhere else quickly, and that resulted in him moving in with a friend from university.
That friend was another alpha, which turned sour very after soon after moving in together.
Niall was a bit hesitant when he told her that the issue was Harry, not the other alpha.
Harry was territorial, more of the pack leader type, and it became apparent within days that Harry simply could not share a space with another virile alpha despite Harry forcing the other alpha to submit to him on multiple occasions, it didn’t matter.
Even though Niall assured her that it wouldn’t be an issue because she was an omega, it didn’t make her feel much better but she has too strong of a conscious to promise a place for Harry to stay to then to pull that away from him.
Of course, Niall, the twat, couldn’t make it over while Harry was moving in because he had to go to a family birthday dinner which meant that it would just be the two of them.
“It will just be time to get to know one another,” Niall chirped easily on the phone, unbothered and oblivious to the tension that was building in YN.
++
Harry was supposed to be here at six in the evening.
He quite literally knocks on the door at exactly six.
YN hesitates for a moment before opening the door, her heart was beating unusually fast, and when she opens it, it begins to pump even faster.
The man standing in front of her was clearly an alpha without her even knowing this information before hand.
It was interwoven into every aspect of his being, in a way that could be seen physically but on the other hand, it was unspoken, she couldn’t quite describe it but he was exactly what she imagined an alpha to be.
All of him was defined, sharp from his jaw to his nose to his arms.
His shoulders were broad enough that YN wondered if he could even fit through the doorway without squeezing them inward.
He was tall, taller than she had imagined him, and that added with his width and the pure heft of his bulky but lean muscles - he was fucking intimidating and could hurt her without a shadow of a doubt, she’d be defensless.
This is a bad idea.
YN should tell him he can’t move in.
Her parents raised her better than to let a six foot something, very capable alpha in her home to share with her without knowing anything about him.
The fact of the matter was, he did not even look friendly.
Some alphas were like golden retrievers, easy going and a bit airheaded.
Harry was the stark opposite end of that.
The type of alpha that people avoid because of how dangerous they can be.
If YN was walking down the sidewalk and he was walking towards her, she would without a doubt cross the road to avoid bumping into him but yet, she was welcoming him into her house and something within her felt like this was a good idea.
Her inner omega that is.
Who we all know craves an alpha like water and air.
She pushes that down, as much as possible when she notices how big his hands are and how they would look holding her hips -
He has a frown on his face, the light wrinkles it causes shows YN that he has that expression quite often as he looks at her with a mixture of boredom and exasperation, he should be so fucking friendly because of how much YN is overextending to help him.
He isn’t.
After a moment, YN realizes she’d been staring at him dumbly and has yet to introduce herself.
“YN?” Harry finally asks and his voice is deep, only like an alpha’s can be, no beta could even imitate the vibrato of that tone.
“Yeah, uh, come in?” YN’s voice is higher pitched than she’d prefer as she steps aside, her greeting coming out much more like a question than a statement.
Harry blinks dully at her, a backpack over his shoulder and a few boxes next to his feet, “If you do not want me to come in, just say it. If me being an alpha or a guy is too much, tell me now before I move all my fuckin’ stuff in. I don’t like playing these back and forth games.”
YN is startled by his attitude, she can’t recall a time when anyone has ever talked to her so bluntly or without politeness which again, inherently an alpha thing but it still had her off kilter a bit as his face doesn’t change.
“No, sorry, yeah. You can bring your stuff in, I haven’t changed my mind,” YN steps further back into the apartment, spreading her arms, “This is it. Sorry, I know it isn’t much but I guess a roof over your head is better than nothing.”
Harry doesn’t even bother to look around, doesn’t compliment the comfy furniture or the cute little decorations, “It’s fine. Where’s my room?”
YN knows her smile falls when she realizes this is going exceptionally worse than she had already been dreading, which means that she leads him around the apartment, showing him the bathroom, laundry, linen closet, and then to his room as he remains completely silent.
When he goes to begin to bring his few boxes in, YN moves to pick one up to help but he stops her abruptly, voice firm and demanding, “No. Put that down.”
YN’s eyebrows shoot into her hairline, “Sorry!” She apologizes for the millionth time in less than thirty minutes, “I was just trying to be helpful.”
Harry snarls his lip in the slightest, “Am I the alpha or are you?”
YN’s swallows harshly, voice small, “You are.”
“Right. I am the alpha, I will move the heavy boxes, I will unpack. It is my job, not yours,” Harry tells her as he brushes past her to deposit the box into his room before coming out for the next one without anything else to say.
YN should probably stand her ground, set those firm boundaries but she doesn’t, instead she hides out in her room with her cat, Beatrice, (who was also hiding from the unknown visitor) and does not plan to come out until tomorrow morning or until he’s asleep.
But no, when it’s nearly ten at night, YN finally gathers enough courage to knock on his bedroom door to set the house rules, the boundaries because she couldn’t make Harry like her but they could at least be civil.
Or so she thought.
Harry answered the door after a minute, his shirt was off and he was just in a pair of joggers, there was stuff all over his room that he was obviously in the midst of organizing but it also looked worse before everything fit perfectly into place.
“What?” He asks impatiently, like he has a timeframe and YN is disrupting something major.
YN’s mind goes completely blank for a moment because for the first time since he came in, probably because it was night time and his morning scent neutralizers had worn off but she can smell his natural scent for the first time.
It was stronger because he didn’t have anything blocking his glands, his chest was heavily tattooed, and unfairly defined, looking as if he never spent a minute outside of the gym with muscles cut in places YN didn’t even know muscle existed.
His scent was…unlike anything that she had ever smelled in her life.
It was rich, deep, and dark.
It made her dizzy, sleepy, like she could fall into a trance of getting lost in it.
Thick, warm waves of it seemed to short-circuit her mind and make it hard for her to even remember what her purpose was of standing in front of him.
She had never reacted so strongly to scent in her life, never even noticed most of the time what others smelled like but this was seeping into her veins and she couldn’t quite get enough of it as she tried to subtly breathe it in as much as possible.
“What do you want?” Harry reiterates, louder and definitely more annoyed as he crosses his arms.
YN has to blink a few times before she’s shaking her head, “Uh, I just wanted to go over like….house rules? Anything you need from me? Boundaries? How can we operate around each other since we’re going to be living together?”
Harry jaw clenches, his nostrils flared, and he looks appalled.
YN realizes then that he must be able to smell her and by his reaction, he must absolutely hate her scent which made shame and mortification run through her body, of being rejected by this alpha was absolutely confidence crushing.
YN swallows down the whine.
Harry’s eyes trace up to her once, “Here’s the house rules, stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. I’m not looking for a friend. I’m only looking for a place to stay. Understood?”
YN’s mouth is dry, her brain is having a hard time focusing on the harshness of his words because his scent is flashing bright sparkles in her eyesight at the same time, “What about your rut? My heat?”
Harry’s eyes narrow, turning a bit predatory, dangerous for a moment before he’s replying, “I’m sure you have help. If you bring another beta or omega here, that will be fine. I will not bother you. Niall told me you do not typically associate with alphas.”
“Um, okay…That works,” YN lies because she really can’t have another omega or beta here but if she has too, maybe she can try again? Maybe if they come over while she’s not yet in her heat? She’ll have to think about that later, “Your rut?”
“I have it handled,” Harry replies defensively, stepping back and putting his hand on the doorknob, “Just give me a heads up beforehand so that I won’t be blindsided by coming home to the scent change but I will also communicate that with you.”
“Okay, that sounds good-”
The door is shut on her without her even being able to finish her sentence.
“Rude ass fucking alpha,” YN mutters under her breath as she shakes her head, when she plops on her bed, she may or may not scream into her pillow for a moment because she just got herself into a worse situation than she could imagine.
But yet it hasn’t once crossed her mind to kick him out.
Why?
She doesn’t have a clue.
++
YN does not see Harry once during the first two weeks of him living with her.
Not even a glimpse.
And YN would actually wonder if he still even lived here if she wasn’t constantly overwhelmed by his scent.
He must come out of his room once YN is asleep, she does not understand how it is so thick, cloying on every surface of her apartment.
The second you walk in, it hits you, and lets anybody who enters know that an alpha lives here, there would not even be a doubt.
YN vaguely finds herself wondering one night as she sits on her couch whether or not Harry had scent marked the apartment, claiming it as his territory.
She had heard alphas do that, especially when they live with their omega to show that their mate has an alpha who protects them and their home.
However, that’s not the case here, and YN is pretty sure that Harry doesn’t even remotely like her, let alone want to live here so why would he want to claim it?
She rules that out as a possibility, mostly, but when she wakes up in the morning and he had already left for the day, well she can’t help but notice as fucking beautiful her house smells.
YN only gets her heat every six months with the suppressant she’s on but the entire month leading up to it, she finds herself starting to get more rooted in her omega tendencies.
Harry had been living with her for fourish months by this point and nothing had changed since the beginning.
He didn’t use the living room, showered early before YN would wake up and was already gone, and stayed out of the kitchen before she would go to bed.
In the four months, the sightings had been few and far between and she realized that he meant it very literally when he said that he’ll stay out of her way if she stays out of his.
In the sparse times they’ve shared space, whether it was in the hallway or kitchen, Harry’s lip would always curl up and his nose twitched which always incited a bit of insecurity about her scent.
She had always gotten compliments on hers, how light and powdery it smelled like clean laundry spritzed with a hint of orange blossom and vanilla.
YN did not understand why it was so unappealing to the alpha but he was in for a rude awakening as the month leading up to her heat began.
Her scent got noticeably stronger, she felt the urge to scentmark more items in her apartment to claim that this was her home and safe space.
As expected, Harry didn’t say anything the day it all started to intensify.
And to be fair, he never said anything to her.
The closest thing she would get was a low grunt of greeting but despite that, she felt safe with him in her home, and never had any worry that she was in danger.
The alpha made her feel an overwhelming sense of security, in fact, that she had never felt with any beta or omega.
It wasn’t necessary that he was mean to her or treated her poorly, he just…was there.
He didn’t bring anyone home with him, never asked if he could have someone spend the night nor has she ever smelled any visitors either.
However, things really start to change in the beginning of October, the month before her heat would crest and peak before the cycle started all over again.
The first major change she would notice was the difficulty sleeping.
Normally, she slept better than most without typically ever having to get up in the middle of the night or any tossing and turning.
When October hit, it felt near impossible for her to fall asleep and then when she was so exhausted that she did end passing out, it wouldn’t be long before she was awake again which made her always feel like she needed a nap.
++
It was late for a weekday, the clock showing that it was close to midnight, and she had to be up for work at six in the morning but her body did not seem to get the memo because after attempting to sleep since ten, it had not been successful.
YN decided to give it some time before she laid back down again.
YN grabbed a bag of pretzels from the cupboard, gave Beatrice one of the squeeze tubes of tuna-flavored goop, and cuddled up on the couch in the living room.
Of course, nothing sounded good as she flipped through the options, and decided on a romantic comedy that didn’t really interest her but it was her best option to make her sleepy, even if it was from the boredom of a corny film.
YN was about thirty-five minutes in when she realized that the movie wasn’t a helpful tool to fall asleep because she was completely interested in the plot line and she was even more awake than before trying to follow the story.
It made her jump in the slightest when the lock turns in the front door before it’s being opened roughly as Harry walks into the small entryway, shutting the door behind him, and beginning to shuck his coat without even realizing she was sitting there.
She hears him grumpily mumble, “Always leaves the fuckin’ television on.”
Which, yeah, she does forget half the time and the other half she feels like Beatrice likes it on for comfort.
Harry looked worn down, tired, and as beautiful as ever.
He had a duffle over his shoulder that most likely held his work clothes and gym outfit because YN was quite sure that after he was down at his office, he went to the gym which he was at for quite a long time.
She vaguely remembers Niall saying that he boxes occasionally for money and that he trains daily which was a pretty brutal routine of working out before work and after work with no time for relaxation in between.
After he’s lined his shoes up neatly against the wall, (YN notices that he also does the same with her shoes that she had half-haphazardly kicked off when she came home from work), he walks into the living room.
It was obvious that he was going toward the television to shut it off but he lets out the lowest growl of surprise when he spots YN tucked deeply into the corner of the couch with a blanket tucked like a burrito around her.
And YN had never heard, in real life, an alpha growl before.
Instead of being scared, she felt the sudden urge to purr, which scared the absolute shit out of her because why the fuck would she want to purr? She’d only done that when she was a pup and never in her adult life.
Why would she want to do that when this alpha was obviously on edge to the point of growling.
“What are you doing?” Harry grunts, voice sharp and annoyed, nostrils flaring as he must take in her smell.
“I couldn’t sleep,” YN replies hesitantly, eyes darting back up to the screen and then to him because his gaze was so intense and accusatory - it was her house, she could be wherever she wanted when she wanted no matter what time.
“Why?” Harry follows up, his arms crossing over his chest, and making his biceps look unfairly big.
YN grits her teeth, debating on whether she wants to give him a snarky remark to mind his business but then she remembers that she has to live with him and would rather not have them on worse terms then they already seem to be on.
“I always have difficulty sleeping the month of my pre-heat,” YN shrugs, a little embarrassed to be talking about something so intimate with someone who likely did not want to hear anything about her personal life.
“Is that normal?” Harry’s brow furrows, not seeming to like her answer to his question.
YN swipes her tongue across her front teeth nervously, “Um, not really. I…I have a lot of issues regarding my heats and that is one of many. Yeah, I see a doctor but there’s only so much they can do, I guess.”
Harry nods in understanding, doesn’t ask anymore questions or even acknowledge her again as he goes about making himself something to eat before disappearing into his room without another word to her which she was used to by this point.
YN rewinds the movie at bit, she couldn’t really focus when Harry was in the vicinity, and his smell was so fucking overwhelming as he obviously hadn’t showered after the gym and was waiting until he got home.
It wasn’t a bad smell, neither of sweat or filth.
No, it was just that his already delicious smell was stronger, darker, and just encompassing every molecule of the apartment.
It takes her a moment to refocus her attention back on the screen and remember where she had left off, vaguely hearing the shower start to run before he’s shutting the door to his bedroom a little more roughly than a normal.
The plot takes a very unexpectant twist at the end and YN didn’t realize that this rom-com had a sad ending which she really wasn’t used to in most films like this.
After working through all the turmoil and drama that kept popping up for this couple, they finally get it right, and the alpha was about to propose to the omega when he got in a car accident, and ended up passing away.
YN doesn’t not even recognize that she is sobbing like an absolute baby until Harry is standing in front of her with a twitch of irritation in his jaw and only in a pair of joggers, nothing stopping her from seeing the bare, defined muscle of his upper half.
“Why are you crying?” Harry asks as he looks down at her, arms crossed yet again.
YN wipes her face with the sleeve of her oversized hoodie, tears tracks surely making her face puffy as she sits up, “It ha-had a really sad ending I wasn’t expecting,” YN nods up towards where the credit were rolling, “Th-The alpha dies and doesn't get to pro-propose.”
“That’s got you all worked up?” Harry sighs as he moves to grab the remote, flicking off the television and motioning for her to stand up, “You need to try to go to sleep.”
“I can’t sleep,” YN nearly whines, making tears start again.
Oh, did she mention she gets unreasonably emotional during her pre-heat?
“Try,” Harry insists and he gently grabs her wrist, pulling her to her feet, “For both of our sakes, please just try to get some rest.”
YN frowns at that, why does it matter to him?
She hates that she feels disappointed when he lets go of her.
“Okay,” YN agrees as she shuffles her feet towards her bedroom, despising that despite how unfriendly the alpha is, she finds herself wanting comfort from him which…it just doesn’t make any sense and she pushes those thoughts to the very back of her mind.
YN veers off towards the bathroom first and by the time she turns to say goodnight, Harry’s already back in his room with the door shut, and she just ends up sighing before shutting the door of the bathroom to use it before she tries to sleep again.
As she sits down, she notices a pile of fabric in the corner near the sink, and out of curiosity once she’s done, she plucks it up and holds it out.
It was the shirt that Harry had been wearing when he came home, the one he worked out in, and it was absolutely drenched in that smell that made YN weak at the knees.
Harry was meticulously clean.
He never even left behind as much as a crumb of a sandwich and so seeing a shirt of his was unusual because it had never happened before.
YN has no excuse for her behavior, doesn’t really even consciously realize that she’s doing it until she’s back in her room with his shirt tucked up into her hoodie.
She pulls it out and pathetically enough, brings it to her nose where it just smells of alpha, comfort, security, and everything she could ever imagine
It feels wrong, invasive to his privacy almost, and she has never done anything like this in her life.
There was something that outweighed all those negative feelings because she finds that as soon as she lays down and tucks the shirt around her pillow to lay her face into, her eyes instantly become droopy and in no time, she’s out like a light.
+
YN tries to push the whole shirt incident out of her mind the next day, blaming it on her pre-heat haziness, and absolutely nothing else.
Logically, she knows she should return his shirt to him, at least tossing it in his hamper but his scent lingered for days afterwards and there was a direct correlation to how much better she had been sleeping since.
When the scent was completely gone, it was like clockwork that YN began to not be able to fall asleep.
It leads her to another night on the couch, another night of Harry coming in late, and being irritated that she was still awake.
“You were fine the last few nights,” Harry notes as his greeting, no ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’.
YN bites the corner of her lip, lowering the volume a tad on the television, “I know.”
“So why are you up right now?” Harry questions and god, are all alphas this blunt and impersonal or was it just this alpha in particular.
“Because I couldn’t sleep,” YN replies like it’s obvious.
Harry bares his teeth slightly, “Why can’t you sleep?”
“I told you, my pre-heat,” YN realizes that she’s getting a bit defensive because the real answer is much more mortifying and something she would never actually share with him.
He steps in, dropping his duffle unceremoniously, and walks closer to her.
Harry starts to speak slowly, precisely like he’s trying to get YN to understand, “I am not stupid. I understand that. I am asking you, what made you sleep the last few nights? You slept like a rock when I check-, when I walked past your room.”
YN shouldn’t react the way she does but she feels in a way that all the tension between them bubbles up.
Not to mention, it’s incredibly irritating to her how drawn her omega is to him, his scent, his presence, and she fucking hates it because he’s a dickhead.
“I don’t fuckin know, okay? Leave it alone. I’m allowed to be in my living room at whatever hour of the night I please without a fucking interregation,” YN snaps at him angrily, cursing when tears start to drip down her cheeks, and these hormones just sucked, amplifying every emotion she has ten-fold.
Harry lets out a low growl at that, just like the other night, and it doesn’t scare YN once again.
No, for some reason it makes her anger ebb just the slightest.
“Stop the attitude,” Harry replies evenly but his voice was deeper, “I was just checking in on you.”
Anyone else telling her to stop her attitude?
It would have escalated into a nasty fight.
YN instead just deflates, curling up further into her blanket, and covering her face because she just couldn’t get in control of the tears that were streaming down.
He must think she’s a lunatic.
Harry leaves her once again to go shower.
YN’s absolutely praying that he leaves a shirt rumbled on the floor again, despite how guilty that thought makes her feel.
She just wants sleep and for her hormones to even out.
YN feels a bit like a criminal when she goes to the bathroom, soon after Harry had went back out to make himself something for dinner, and there’s a massive disappointment in her stomach when the bathroom is as spotless as always.
She is craving the scent, she knows she can get another fix of it but it would definitely be in his hamper, in his room, and it’s such an invasion of privacy for her to go in there but then again, he’s frying something on the stovetop and he wouldn’t know…
YN’s never stolen in her life, not even gum or nail polish when she was younger, and it’s not even really stealing because she’ll give it back as soon as the scent wears off (but that’s not really true because she hasn’t returned his other shirt and has no intention of it).
She’s already opened his door, quickly scoping out the space, and realizing that his bedroom was the absolute fucking motherload of everything she could ever dream of.
If she thought their whole apartment smelled like him, his bedroom was if you bottled it in a jar, it was thicker, more cloying than ever, and she noticed a purring in her chest before she realized she was doing it and stopped.
If she was completely insane, she would try to grab as much as possible, until her arms are overflowing and she can’t carry out anything else without it falling.
But she’s not that far off the deep end that she did that, she felt creepy enough as she tiptoed over to his laundry hamper and snatched the shirt that was lying on top, the one that Harry had walked in the apartment wearing early.
YN wishes she could loiter a bit longer but that meant a higher chance that she was going to get caught.
She is surprisingly successful as she sneaks back into her room, proud that she now has two shirts to add to her nest.
YN always had a nest, it provided her comfort and security but she absolutely loved that she could intertwine the fabric together with her soft blankets.
This meant she was guaranteed a few more good night sleeps.
++
YN was running incredibly behind for work the next.
She had slept so well that she must have turned off her alarm instead of snoozing iit.
Because when she finally cracks her eyes open, the sun is breaking through her blinds, and her body knows that it is much later than six in the morning.
Her phone confirms that when she clicks on the screen she sees that it is seven-thirty-five.
Any other day, it really wouldn’t be that big of a deal because besides meetings she could make her own schedule.
Of course, of course, she sleeps on the day of an important presentation that she was the head presenter on.
It started at nine which didn’t give her much wiggle room because the commute takes a decent amount of time and that’s if there’s no hectic traffic.
“Shit, shit, shit,” YN chants to herself when rolls out of bed, glaring judgmentally at Beatrice, and muttering, “You wake me up every other morning for breakfast, but not today, of all days?”
Beatrice blinks slowly at her before she lifts her paw pointedly and nibbles on it.
There’s no time for a shower or the makeup she wanted to do.
The only luck that was on her side was that she laid her outfit out last night after being incredibly indecisive about what she wanted to wear in front of the board of higher ups.
She had tugged her hair up into a loose ponytail that actually passed for the messy updo style, and put on her best push-up bra right after.
YN figured that while she was tugging on her trousers that she could go out to feed Beatrice, the button was being finicky as it always tending to be so she was looking down as she begin down the hall, and nearly fell backwards when she runs into something hard, warm, and delicious smelling.
Harry’s big hands reach out and wrap around her bare arms, keeping her upright as she yelps in surprise, pants going unbuttoned for a moment as she grips Harry’s forearms for stability and looks at him with wide eyes.
His nostrils are flaring viciously, an irritated growling rumbling through his chest, and he keeps his eyes on her the full time.
They never once darted down to her chest, that not only was just covered by her bra but was also sheer enough that her nipples were completely visible through the nude fabric.
YN is confused by her own desire to just curl into his chest and feel his shirtless chest against her barely clothed one, and what the fuck.
“Wha-“ YN stammers in confusion, why is he home?
“Why aren’t you at work?” Harry asks pointedly, his jaw was clenched tightly enough that it must be aching with soreness.
“I-I overslept,” She replies shakily, his hands still gripping her arms, fingertips pressing in, “I need to feed Beatrice.”
“No, what you need to do is get yourself dressed. Do you walk around half-naked with every alpha you know? S’indecent,” He’s scolding her like a child as he finally steps back.
YN has been so nice up until this point, despite how wonky her hormones have been.
She’s typically never a nasty person.
She rarely ever gets angry either.
However, today was the wrong day to fuck with her.
“Fuck you,” YN snaps back out of her stupor, much to Harry’s surprise, “I told I was late and I didn’t think you’d be home because you’re always at work by now. I’m sorry I’ve offended you with my body, prick.”
YN turns on her heel, storming back to her room, and snatching up her phone to check the time to see an email notification from her work.
Good morning,
We hope this email finds you well. Our office has to be unfortunately shut down for the next few days due to a major power outage after flooding in the basement of the building. We are estimating a three to four day shutdown. To show our gratitude for your patience, these days will be marked as paid time off. Stay tuned for more information and updates.
Thank you,
Evergreen Financial Accounting
YN feels a huge weight lifted off her chest because not only does she get a few days to relax but now she isn’t going to be late to her important presentation .
However, she does not feel completely relieved because the anger chewing at her over her housemate is just as heavy, even more prominent, and has triggered her inner hormonal omega.
YN fees a flash of defiance which is never a good sign as she usually never tries to rock the boat or cause a stir, prefers to fly under the radar.
No, not today.
YN storms back out of her room because she was going to feed Beatrice in her bra and unbuttoned work slacks if she wanted to.
Harry was sat on the living room couch which was an uncommon sight, a protein drink in a shaker cup, and his eyes on his phone in the opposite hand.
YN goes back into the kitchen, deciding she might as well make herself a breakfast sandwich while she’s at it after she fills Beatrice’s bowl.
She can feel his eyes on her, intense and if it could, his gaze would be burning a hole in her back with how directed and annoyed it was.
YN moves slowly, now that she’s in no rush at all, and she feels stupid for being surprised when Harry lets out a snarl loud enough to echo in the space.
YN doesn’t turn around.
It feels dangerous, she’d learned over and over again growing up to never ever antagonize an alpha, and here she was.
When she doesn’t respond to the noise, it gets louder and makes her ears ring just the slightest, he’s trying to force her attention on him.
Bossy, ill-mannered alpha.
His voice is closer when he speaks, she never even hears him get up.
“Go get some fuckin’ clothes on,” Harry orders, his voice deeper, raspier than she had ever heard it.
But it also sent a very unpleasant spark of nervousness up her spine because the alpha in front of her was past the point of being annoyed, he was furious.
His shoulders were as broad as they could go, his teeth flashing at her, and his scent was richer, thicker, tinged with a sharp pine.
The playful, brattiness dissipates from her body as his growls stay loud, demanding, deafening.
YN doesn’t realize at first what a bad decision it is to flip her hair over her shoulder, putting her bare bond spot right on display in front of an agitated alpha.
To her utter dismay, he steps forward and their chests are nearly touching, his eyes were now completely focused on the curve of her neck.
When he reaches up, cupping the side of her neck, and curiously thumbs over the spot, YN cannot control the whine that leaves her throat.
His eyes move directly back up to hers, the noise drags him for his daze, and back into reality.
He actually does look her up and down this time, eyes lingering on her chest for a minute before he’s hissing at her once again, “Go get a fucking shirt on.”
With that, he’s turning and grabbing his duffle before storming out the front door, shutting it hard enough it vibrates but then she still hears him take the time to lock it.
Stupid fucking alpha.
+++++++++
#harry styles writing#harry styles#harry styles masterlist#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles angst#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles au#harry styles fanfic
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Taking what’s not yours (Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader [ex-Childhood best friend turned Fwb AU]) part 2
Hiiiiiii, this took longer then it should and it was gonna be waaay longer but I’ve decided to just make it 3 parts cuz I’m waaaaaay too impatient Lmaoo. Thank you once again to @chickenshit03 for helping me look over this 🫶🏼. Technically it is a miguel x reader, Harry x reader but, shhh it’s okay lol. Not proofread, enjoy!
Cursing, hurt/comfort/hurt (???), underage usage of weed (I DO NOT CONDONE THIS!!!), usage of alcohol, no smut but nsfw stuff is implied, Miguel going thru it lol
Word count: 3.1k
Part 1
Masterlist
—
“Have you congratulated her yet?”
Gabriel’s voice pulled his older brother’s attention away from the soccer game that was happening on his tv, looking over to find his brother engrossed in his phone rather than the game. He raised a brow up, waiting for him to continue, letting out an exasperated sigh when he didn’t.
“Who?” Miguel asked, bringing his beer bottle up to take a swig, turning back towards the tv so he didn’t get to catch his younger brother’s almost confused reaction.
“What do you mean who? (Y/N), Cabrón.” Gabriel’s tone was one of almost scolding, as if he was talking about someone who was family. As far as he was concerned, you were still considered as such. But when Miguel quirked up a confused brow it was becoming a bit clearer that you and his older brother weren’t as close as you once were. (Dumbass)
“(Y/N)? I don’t talk to her anymore, why would I congratulate her?” He sounded uninterested, bothered even, as if bringing you up was an inconvenience to himself. Still Gabriel pressed on.
“You really don’t know?”
“Does it look like I know?” Miguel shot back sarcastically, bringing his bottle back up to take another swig.
“She’s getting married.”
Miguel’s fist flew to his chest, hitting at it frantically as he brought down his half empty bottle as he attempted to clear his windpipe, eyes widen in shock, both from the news and the sudden feeling of the liquid going down the wrong pipe.
“She’s-shes what?” He was finally about to choke out between fading coughs, his eyes watering slightly as he recovers from the fit. Now it was his younger brother who raised a confused brow before it came back down and his face scrunched together in realization.
“No manches güey… You really didn’t know? I thought you two were best friends.” (Slang that basically means “You’re fucking with me dude.”)
“Key word: were.” Miguel grumbled through
grinding teeth, his tensing shoulders and blunt tone was enough of an indicator for Gabriel to drop the subject. Using the now empty bottle in Miguel’s hand as an excuse to step out of the room to grab another one from his kitchen.
Only when Miguel was alone, he sighs and takes his phone out from his jeans pocket and opens instagram, waiting impatiently as the app loads.
—
“I don’t know, I think I liked the other venue better. What do you think honey?”
Despite your feet standing in the second venue of the day, you couldn’t seem to get yourself to focus on the space in front of you. Fingers idly fidget with Harry’s from their place intertwined with his.
How were you going to tell this to Harry? Why did after so long, Miguel had the nerve to try weasel his way back into your life?
No matter how hard you try to blink the words away, it felt like they were burned into your eyelids. Like you had never left the fitting room of the dress store.
Miguel.Ohara.99 and 4 others liked your post.
Miguel.Ohara.99 started following you.
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“(Y/N)?”
“Hmm?” Harry’s voice pulled you back out from your own thoughts. Suddenly becoming too aware of your own anxious state, as he gave your hand a quick reassuring squeeze. Turning to the venue owner as he asked for a minute alone with his fiancé.
“What’s wrong babe.” He asked as soon as you were both alone, his hand traveling upwards to rest on your forearm, tilting his head slightly as he cooed at you. He always knew how to read you so well. Despite the question coming out more as a statement, it held no malice behind it. You let out a sigh.
“I… I’m not sure how to explain it.” You replied honestly, it’s not like you did anything wrong. You simply received a message from an estranged friend/fling, you haven’t even read the message yet. Still the thought of spilling out the words ‘You remember how I had told you I had a thing with an old childhood before we met? He saw that I’m engaged and now he’s trying to message me.’ didn’t seem to settle in your stomach quite right.
“You know you can tell me anything baby. Is it the wedding? I know the whole thing is stressful, maybe I shouldn’t have booked this tour right after your dress appointment-“ Oh Harry, your sweet sweet Harry. You quickly shook your head, your hand going up to rest on his chest to stop his rambling. He always did it when he was starting worrying about you, you couldn’t help but smile at his habit. You found it endearing.
“No, Harry. It’s not anything wedding related, not exactly-erm, nevermind, don’t worry about it right now.” You reassured him, his rambling dead down in his throat, replaced with the low vibration of a hum, as he brought your hand up to his cheek and pressed a light kiss against your palm. Your lips pulled upwards just a tad bit more at the gesture. “ I’ll tell you when we get back home.”
“Hmm, Promise?” He muttered against your palm, before placing another peck against it.
“I promise.” Your thumb stroked his cheek lightly.
“Good.” He sighed, dropping your hand back down from his face, but not letting go of it just yet. “Now, about the venue.” He changed subjects, raising a brow as he silently asked for your opinion. To which you scrunch your nose before replying.
“Oh I liked the last one way better.”
“Good, I did too.”
—
The alcohol still had a hold on Miguel as he continued through the rest of his nightly routine, trying not to trip over his own feet as he was trying to grab a shirt to sleep in. Only to trip over something else in the corner of his closet.
Cursing loudly as he caught his weight before he could fall face first into the closet wall. His search for a shirt was quickly forgotten as he stumbled back a bit to catch his barings. Anger flaring through his veins as he went to go pick up the box he tripped on, and toss across the room in a fleeting moment of letting his frustrations get the better of him. When he realized he was only making a bigger mess for hungover him to clean up, he groaned and rubbed his hands through his hair.
He was going to just leave it for the morning, let it be a tomorrow problem as he doom scrolled through old photos that should have been long deleted from his phone when he dropped you for Dana. A choice that was proven to be a mistake at the end of the day when she dumped him a few months later. But when he went to step over the mess to lay on his bed, when something caught itself in his peripheral vision. A black lighter, one that was bedazzled with a little star.
That’s weird, I don’t use lighters for anything. Miguel thought as he bent down to his knees to pick it up and examine it, it wasn’t until he turned it upside down to see a certain pair of initials carved into the bottom of it when it hit him.
—
“Hey Mig, guess what I bought off one of my friends from my chem class.” You grinned, pulling him into your room. You were both alone, since your mom was gone for a business trip for the weekend.
Miguel raised a brow looking around your room for anything out of the ordinary, finally shrugging when he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. That’s when your smile widened, letting out a small squeal before pulling three things from your pocket.
Two joints and a black lighter.
“We did say if we tried it, it’d be together.” Your voice came out in a sing-songy tone, your silent way of asking him if he wanted to partake in the forbidden activity. He wasn’t big on the idea of smoking weed, but he did say if you ever wanted to try, he’d be there in case you freaked out.
Fuck it, your only a rebellious teenager once right?
You let another squeal when he grabbed one of the joints, before grabbing the lighter.
—
“I didn’t know I had this…” He muttered, words still slurring slightly as he closed his hand with the lighter still in it. As far as he was concerned, he had given it back before you two had left for college eleven years ago. The-as you liked to call it-“star girl” phase you had during junior year had made it so you put stars on whatever you could, including your lighter. It was your favorite shape at the time, he wonders if it still is.
He can’t remember at the time, because the hazy cloud that covers his brain and the way eleven years came make you forget small things but he had never given the shoebox to you before you had left, like he had meant to. So when he went to turn the box over and more papers and knickknacks fell out, he forgets all about going to bed.
Some of it was a bit more basic than others, a postcard and a small trinket from a vacation you had gone on, a silver spider necklace you had gifted him, some random book you had raved over and let him borrow to read, but he never finished it, movie theater tickets.
Then there were some that were a bit… harder to look at, stuff that he had suppressed deep into his memories.
Handwritten notes you had sent him when you went to summer camp every summer. One for every week for a month, from fourth grade till sophomore year. Rambling about how a guy wouldn’t stop bothering you and how you wish he was there to scare the guy off. Or the time you were doing archery during one afternoon during outside activities and had shot an apple to a tree from midair. Had even dedicated a whole two paragraphs to it.
Photo Booth pics of you both at the county fair, making silly faces at the camera with him arm over your shoulders. He had always hated taking pictures taken of himself, not because he didn’t like the way he looked, just because he didn’t think he needed to. He wasn’t one to look back and reminisce, he’d rather look forward and focus on his future. But you were a sucker for sentimental things, so he did it for you.
A bit ironic now, that the roles were reversed at the moment.
—
“Please Miguel, it takes like two seconds.” You begged, desperately trying to pull the larger teen towards the unoccupied Photo Booth, faint sounds of teens screaming on rides and music playing from the food stands in the background.
Miguel let his head roll back as he left out a grown, letting you pull him despite him easily being able to walk away.
“You have a million photos of us.”
“You’re so negative all the time. One day you're gonna look back and be thankful I forced you to take all these pictures.” You pouted as you pushed him into the booth, sitting down next to him as you put in a dollar in the machine. “I’ll buy you a funnel cake if you don’t look like you’re being held hostage.” You joked.
“Fine.”
—
A wristband to some random music festival you had convinced him to go with you to, not wanting to go alone. He at the time wouldn’t have admitted it, but he had a lot more fun than he led on. He never understood how you could deal with his pessimism all the time, waving it off as if it was nothing, you could see threw it he guessed.
—
“That was…incredible.” You sighed, plopping yourself down on your hotel bed on your side of the room once you two had arrived in the room, not even changing out of your festival outfit yet. Miguel followed you close behind, closing and locking the hotel room door as he shrugged.
“I guess it wasn’t horrible.” He muttered, taking off his dusty shoes. Not missing the way your lips tugged up in a tired smile.
“You had fun.” You stated, already knowing he would deny it. He scoffed.
“Well, I’m not sure about that.” There it was. You let out a small laugh as you sat up on the bed finally.
“Knew it.” You beamed.
—
Miguel felt pathetic at this point. Never had he been one to reminisce, never had he been one to show emotions. Now here he was, clinging to the last bits of you he still had.
The last thing he found was the last thing he could bare himself to look at, the memories that came with the item came flooding in just like the tears that he had suppressed for so long. Well, as long as it was from when his brother dropped the bomb on him.
A red rose boutonnière.
—
Senior prom, it was just around the corner. The dress shopping, riding a limo rental with a group of friends, slow dancing with a guy. You had been dreaming about it since you were a kid and saw it over and over again in movies and shows. You should have been excited about it, but you weren’t, in fact you were dreading it. Why? Because no one had asked you to be their date.
It was a bit of a ridiculous thing to be upset about, you knew that, but you couldn’t help it. Not when all of your other female friends got promposalled from their boyfriends or their crushes, you couldn’t help but feel a bit bitter about it.
The fact that you were there to witness Mj’s (your friend from English) get promposalled by her boyfriend Peter with a big teddy bear during lunchtime only rubbed salt in the wound. You were just glad that the school day was over now so you could go home and take a nap.
You did what you usually did after the last bell, walk to Miguel’s car. You could usually carpool since you lived next door to each other. Expecting him to already be waiting for you, what you didn’t expect though, was to be met with him holding a poster up. The words “be my date to prom?” written on it, with the letters of prom made up from elements. It looked simple, last minute, like he had drawn it during the last ten minutes of his final class. But it had brought you to tears no less.
“You didn’t have to.” The words came out in a mix between a sob and a laugh.
“I know, I wanted to. I couldn’t stand you being upset, I know how much this whole prom thing means to you.” His reply only made you let out another sob, quickly closing the gap between you both as you pulled him into a tight hug.
The time between then and prom was short-lived, almost like a blur as you both arrived at the school’s gymnasium. The rest of your friends had actual dates, so you weren’t surprised when they separated in their respective duos. You and Miguel mostly just messed around, the majority of the night. So when he pulled you towards the dance floor once the slow songs started to play, you couldn’t help but raise a brow.
“You hate dancing.” You stated, heels clicking coming to a stop once you both were in an empty spot. His hands sliding on to your waist as he took a step closer towards you. He let out an exhale through his nose as he smirked.
“I do.” He agrees, his hands sliding to your hands, and placing them on his shoulders before he placed his back in their original spot. “But, slow dancing is a part of the ‘prom experience’ or whatever, so I’ll suck it up for a few songs.”
You guess he had a point, so you just went with it. Staying quiet as you both swayed to the music, you haven’t even noticed that your head was resting on his shoulder until he spoke up again.
“So… everything like how you expect it to be?” He whispered jokingly, glancing down to meet your eyes, somehow despite the dim lighting, they still found a way to glimmer.
“It is.” You hummed with a soft smile,
“Good.”
—
“Harry, baby c’mon stop… Harry!”
“I’m sorry (Y/N), you know I can’t help it… something about wedding planning just does something to me-“
His words were interrupted with another spurt of giggles falling from your lips as you tried to pull away from the playful kisses trailing down your stomach. His hands keeping you in place by your hips. He knew you were ticklish, yet he continued to graze his fingernails down your sides just to watch your reaction.
“I’m so lucky, in a few months I’m going to get to call you my wife. My beautiful lovely wife.” He muttered against your skin. His words made your cheeks flush and your stomach flip, you don’t know another man who could make you feel the way he does.
His lips finally stop as the beginning of your sleeping shorts, his thumbs dipping into them, the fabric scrunching down when he goes to play with the straps of your panties. Half-lidded eyes go to meet yours, silently asking for permission.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to wait until the honeymoon?” You teased as you propped yourself up on your elbows. Trying to sit up on your shared bed as best as you could, but you weren’t able to before Harry went to crawl on top of you. Capturing your lips quickly before dipping his head to nibble at the crook of your neck.
“That’s coming from the girl who couldn’t stop grabbing at me during dinner.” He muttered back, leaving goosebumps to erupt on your skin when you felt him smirk against you, then going to nibble your sensitive spot. Making you let out a whimper before you could stop yourself.
“Because that waitress was trying to flirt with you!” You whined, hands traveling up to hold on to his shoulders as he kitten licked the bites he left behind.
“You act like I didn’t just say that because my father was there. He doesn’t need to know how often I make you scream my name-“
“Oh my gosh Harry, please don’t bring up Norman while we’re about to start fucking.” You laugh as you push him off of you gently, not being able to take the moment seriously anymore. In response he only raised a brow as he smirked again.
“So we were gonna fuck?”
“Jesus.” You laugh again, as you pushed him against the bed, lips crashing against one another as you straddle him.
—
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innocent | H.S oneshot
my masterlist
summary: while on the couch, harry ends up with innocent y/n on his lap, and she gets unexpectedly very worked up over his thigh being under her, and he does something about it.
warnings: SMUT! thigh riding, dirty talk, handjob (m receiving), best friend! harry, and a whole lot of praise kink.
requested by @shqtteredcrystql1
a/n: i absolutely love this request. thank you so much to the lovely user above who pmed me with it. <3
———
You shake your head at yourself.
You had not thought any of this would lead to you feeling so suddenly.. needy. But it has?
You were sitting in the lounge room of the beach house you were staying in, watching a movie with Harry while both parts of your family had gone out for the evening.
You and Harry had opted to stay back. The crowded bars being not your vibe for the night, and wanting to just chill out at the house for a while.
The movie was not long beginning in the background on the TV, with bags of half eaten snacks resting on the wooden coffee table— not that you could see any of it, as it was to the back of you.
It started when Harry and you fought over the blanket on the couch.
Pulling it off eachother just to be difficult, and roughhousing until he proposed a quick solution when your fingers started prodding his rib cage as pay back.
“C’mere— c’mere!” He rushed out, hands up in defeat as you technically won the mini physical brawl. Even though you know if he really wanted to win, he would a hundred times over, given his strength.
You went still and frowned as he didn’t follow up with a verbal explanation, and just held hands out for you to come to.
“Why?” You said, slightly amused.
“Because.” He stated.
So you moved forward to him, his hands coming in contact with your hips, and seizing you forward.
Bringing you seated in his lap.
“I can’t actually watch the movie, H.” You flush at your positioning. His hands still bracketing your waist like it’s nothing.
Which you’re confused why you’re reacting like this.
This has never happened to you with anyone else. Only ever with Harry.
And it’s not the first time it’s happened with him. You get big feelings often when he’s near you. They come out of nowhere, when he touches you gently during conversation, or when he flashes you a dimple in his smile.
And this warm feeling will swell in your chest, bubble down into your stomach… and sometimes further. It will simmer down in between your legs.
Leaving you with this feeling of being hot and bothered, in a completely foreign way.
Usually it’s only faint. A quick, fleeting feeling for you. However you’ve never had yourself situated on his lap.
His strong and muscly thigh straight underneath you— mostly bare, his shorts riding up to leave the hair dusted skin visible. His tiger tattoo hidden under you.
“Sorry, want to turn around?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice.
Your head snaps up from where you were looking at where your body met his— your pupils blown out a little.
Your eyes lock with his, and your reminded that this is your harry.
Your favourite person. Your best friend. Who has pretty green eyes, paired chocolatey brown curls that fall over them, and frame his gorgeous face.
Who smiles at you like this all the time, like you’re also his favourite person.
“Well i did want to watch 10 things I hate about you, instead of listening to it.” Your hands are resting on his shoulders, and he lets out a chuckle at your gentle quip.
“Alright, darling, let’s turn you around.” He laughs at you, rotating your body himself— handling you so that your facing the screen, your back plastered to the hard wall of his chest.
The new position evokes a flutter from your core, one completely unexpected to you.
And you’re hyperaware that there’s very little separating his leg from the sudden heat between yours, just a thin pair of sleep shorts.
“Better?” He asks casually into your ear, pulling the blanket to cover your laps.
“Yea, thank you.” You breathe out, sounding a little airy.
Your eyes find the screen, but your wholly distracted by his body.
His thumb circling your hip, the gentle breath from his nose hitting the back of your neck, and again, his thigh underneath you.
Your heart is stuttering.
You’re so— confused?
He’s your best friend. You know that, and you’re not sure why you’re feeling like this. If it’s normal?
Another concern of if he can feel it. Feel you.
The heat radiating from you.
You zone out a little, eyes locked on the movie screen. Eventually your breathing evening out for the most part, as you adjust to what was happening.
Focusing momentarily on the comfort of your surroundings. Harry practically enveloping you, the feeling of the couch pillows warm and soft around you.
The gentle hum of the waves crashing from the nearby ocean, sounding through the cracked open window.
Which the breeze being carried through it is just the right temperature, and just strong enough to have the candle flames flickering on top of he TV cabinet.
There’s a warm glow cast across the room from the array of candles, and salt lamp turned on in the corner.
Everything about it was homely, and comforting. And you tapped into the euphoric amount of bliss that surrounded you.
After a few minutes, Harry moved, shuffling his hips back to prop himself up.
His thigh underneath you dragging your thin sleep shorts along your centre, the pressure of his muscles rippling as he adjusted with your weight atop him causing an unbelievably pleasurable feeling to strike through you.
A whine slips past your lips before you can even stop it. The desperate sound filling the room, and it’s too late to take it back. Because you know he’s heard it with the way he stills immediately.
Embarrassment starts to flicker through you hardly a second later.
“Y/N?” He seems to almost whisper from behind you.
“God— sorry— I don’t know… I don’t know why that happened.”
He laughs, the sound golden and dipped in honey as it enters your ears, “Did you just moan?”
“No!” Your skin is flaming as you deny quickly.
He pushes his leg up to press into you again, and you purse your lips together as you try so hard not to let a sound out, or roll your hips instinctively against him.
You fail with the latter of those two things, your body pushing into his leg before you can even try to stop it.
“Hm, what’s gotten you all worked up, darling?” He let’s his hands run up along the side of your rib cage, and is admittedly very curious to what your feeling right now.
He was surprised at first, but fuck, your innocent little whimper has him feeling like he’s got a point to prove.
And he wants so badly to have you come undone under his touch.
“I— fuck…” you lean your head back into his shoulder, unable to form words.
His eyes skate down the profile of your gorgeous face, and further along your arched body.
“Want me to do something about the heat between those legs of yours, baby? Can feel how hot and bothered you are.”
“Harry…” you sigh out as you begin to give into the situation, “please.”
“Alright lovely, since you’re rubbing yourself all over my leg, keep going.”
You frown a little— well it feels good as far as your concerned now. But your unsure how to just continue.
“Here,” he turns you around again, and for a second smiles at your flushed and flustered face.
All the sudden the eye contact has you tingling again, his face enough to have you a mess in his hands.
His hands guide yours to rest on his shoulders, and then his own slide back down to your hips.
“Now, just keep doing what you were before hm, rub yourself on my thigh okay?”
He watches as you experiment with the movement, rolling forward on with your body and moaning at the sensation that it evokes in you.
“Oh.“ you grind against him again, harder this time.
“Oh—“
You clench, and he pushes his leg up into you with a moan from himself as he feels your cunt clamping around nothing.
“Fuck, y’gonna tell me why you’re so wet?” He grabs the back of your neck so you’re looking at him.
“I don’t know…” you whine, humping along his thigh. The thin fabric of your shorts going damp from your arousal.
“Your thighs. Your hands. You.” You speculate aloud, watching his pupils blow out with desire.
“My thigh under your cunt get you all worked up?”
“Yes— yes!” You groan out, jaw falling lax as your clit gets caught just right between the shorts and his thigh.
“Baby, take the shorts off. Wanna feel y’soak onto my leg.”
You hardly hear him, still pushing onto him until he physically has to lift you up.
He chuckles as you whine at the absence of contact.
“Tell me, Y/N, Is this okay?” He confirms, pulling your leg from in between his, so now you’re laying practically bridal style in his arms.
“Please. Take them off.” You nod eagerly, back arching in his hold.
He laughs, hair falling again across his brow.
“Let me savour this okay. Look too pretty for your own good.” He mumbles, leaning down to let his lips meet the skin of your neck.
You groan as he sucks the skin into his mouth, and his hand skates up the hem of your shirt, running between the valley of your braless breasts.
“If you need to stop,” he licks over the skin on your neck he was just abusing with his teeth, “let me know, love.”
“I won’t, please keep going…”
You hiss as his hand wraps around your tit, letting his finger tweak the peak of your nipple before running it back down, past your belly button to settle between your still covered pussy.
“Where were we,” he hums gently, rubbing you over your soaked through shorts.
“Off, Harry, please.” Your sentences weren’t properly formed, and you scraped your nails down the muscle of his tattooed bicep.
“God, listen to you. Can you hear how whiney your pretty voice sounds?”
He says it in such a way it sounds like a compliment. The typical connotation of whiney being negative. But he says it like you’re an angel for it.
He peels your shorts down your legs, and audibly groans at the sight of your naked cunt in front of him.
“I should’ve known you didn’t even have a pair of panties on.” He gently taps over your bare clit, and the light touch still has you squirming.
He rubs you a little, allowing the pads of his fingers to tease your entrance. Not before man handling you back on top of his thigh.
Your blindsided by how amazing everything feels.
“Alright darling, use me. Grind that wet little cunt on my thigh to get off.” His words have you fluttering around nothing, and him feeling your bare entrance clenching atop his skin makes his already hard cock twitch beneath the waistband of his shorts.
His hand comes down to palm over himself, delivering a gentle squeeze to try and relieve some of the pressure down there.
You pant as you resume a relatively fast pace, aided by the fact your arousal is dampening his leg. Making it easier to slide yourself on.
“Mmm, god. It feels so good!” You moan out, hands coming to his shoulders to brace yourself.
“So does your pussy on my leg, baby. You’re so wet for me. Who would have thought my little Y/N would get so worked up over sitting on my thigh of all things.” He praises, hands coming to cup the swell of your ass
“No one’s ever— fuck— made me feel like this.” You cry, the stimulation along your clit euphoric.
“Ever, huh?”
You nod, “Ever.”
He could just moan at the thought. That his sweet thing is completely foreign to sexual experiences with other people. That you got all wet on his thigh and had no idea why.
The idea that you weren’t sure why you were trying so hard not to push your pussy onto him. And that you’re probably so sensitive down there, so reactive.
That last one has him struggling not to place you on that coffee table and fuck your hole with his tongue.
He only held back because the sight of your riding his thigh was indescribably hot.
“Good girl f’me, let me help you, make y’come all on my thigh.” He hummed, pushing his leg up to add some more pressure on your clit.
“Harry!” Your pretty voice moaned out as his hands came to guide your hips, to push them faster and harder against his skin.
The control he was taking over you was enough to make you almost drip. Because even if he was so gentle about it, it was insane.
He pushed your bucking hips down, and his leg up, making a delicious pressure that had an unfathomable heat simmer between your legs.
“I wanna come on your leg, Harry, please…” you’re pleading him, hips messily fucking over his skin.
“Yea, baby? My perfect little slut.” He tests out the nickname, watching as your whole body reacts with a quiver at his dirty mouth.
“Oh, you really do like it dirty…” he realises out loud, smirking as you moan.
“Look down at your cunt riding my leg, humping all over it.” He gently laces his hand in your hair, tilting your head down, “How about when you’re done, I get you on your knees and make you clean it up?”
Your mouth goes slack, and it’s baffling to hear such words coming from him.
Yet he could ask you to do anything at this point and you’re convinced you wouldn’t even hesitate before doing it.
“I will, I will!” You nod, thighs quivering on each side of his own.
“Cmon pretty, fuck,” he bucks into his hand that was stroking over his fabric-clad cock, “wanna watch you come. Hear you cry out my name.”
Your clit was pulsing along his now drenched tattoo, and you could feel your muscles tightening in your stomach.
The simmering feeling in your core that you had originally started with has turned into a pot that was about to boil over.
“Harry, ohmygod—“ you whined, falling further into his chest, hands coming up to intertwine with his hair.
He pushed his thigh up against you, and the pressure finally peaked, and you teetered on the brink of orgasm.
You were moaning into his ear, and he could feel your pussy clenching around nothing, waiting for that final little nudge.
“Good fucking girl, let it all go f’me.” He growls into your ear, accent husky, and the words zip straight to where you needed it.
You let out a loud moan of his name, nails dragging down along his shoulders as you messily grind through the pleasure.
He is groaning at the sight. Just as fucking beautiful as he imagined.
Your back arched, and he could feel your cunt pulsating around his leg. It was filthy, and he loved every damn second of it.
“Oh, god— harry, please!” You whimpered, your core jutting against him still, but now with slower more irratic movements.
“That’s it, ride it out on me love. Fuck.” He curses as you absentmindedly drag your lips down the column of his neck.
You slowly come to a stop, the stimulation too much for you now. And your panting as you pull back to look at Harry, and the mess you made atop his thigh.
You lock eyes with him, his hair is messy, and cheeks are flushed. You smile at him, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his also smiling lips.
You glance down between your legs, spotting immediately the glistening skin of Harry’s leg, and how his finger reaches to get a sample and bring it to his lips.
Watching, he sucks his finger into his mouth, humming at the taste of you on his tongue.
“Taste like a dream, my darling.”
He gathers some more on the same finger, bringing it up to your own lips, letting you suck on them.
“Mm, good isn’t it? Look so good with your mouth wrapped ‘round m’fingers.” He praises, eyes darkening at the sight of your lips sucking his long digits.
You slide off them, taking in his beautiful appearance again. How the warm glow of the lounge room light is casting over his tan skin.
You’re still a little muddled about everything that just occurred. And that the little crush that’s always festered in your head when it comes it Harry has just led you here.
Him being the first person to ever see your pussy, and make you come. On his thigh of all places.
“Thank you…” you flush, a little shyness coming out.
“Don’t get shy with me baby, just watched y’come on my thigh. No room for that.” He smiles, pulling you into his chest.
“Now,” he begins again, stroking the small of your back, “let’s go get cleaned up before everyone suddenly comes home to you still half-naked on my lap.”
You laugh a little as he pecks your cheek, “then we can come back to the couch, and rewind 10 things I hate about you and share some ice cream, m’kay?”
“And uhm, what about you?” You gesture to the tent in his shorts.
“Worry about that another time, alright lovely. Not tonight, that was all for you.” He confirms.
“It’ll just… go away?” You frown, confused— and a little embarrassed you didn’t know what would happen with it.
“Should mostly. Might still have a semi, since all I’m gonna be able to think about is what y’taste like. But again, you can worry about me another day.”
You shake your head, “i want to worry about you now though…”
He blinks slowly, “Fuck, well if you keep bloody begging me to get y’hands on my cock, I’m not gonna be strong enough to tell ya no.”
“Never, uh, done this before. As long as that doesn’t put you off.” You shrug, watching his green eyes flick between your hand and his erection.
“Don’t stress, darling. I have been pretty much about to come at the sight of you, I don’t think it’s gonna take much.”
“And for the record,” he rests a hand on your hip, “nothing could put my off of you. Especially when it comes to you touching me.”
You nod, slowly. Still a little unsure as you reach down to pull the waistband of his shorts from his laurel-adorning hips.
He lifts his hips so you can pull them down, far enough that his cock springs out of them.
Your lips parted at the sight, his flushed tip, with beads of precum seeping out, blotting along down his shaft.
His cock was as gorgeous as you’d imagined. Because of course a pretty boy like him would have such a nice cock.
Not that you have much to judge off, but if the smooth skin and the sudden overproduction of saliva in your mouth was any inkling… you would say he was perfect.
Your hand reached to stroke along him, noticing the lack of lubrication.
You put to use the gathering pool of spit in your mouth, and you pursed your lips to let some of it drop down onto his tip.
He had a whole body reaction as he felt your warm spit slip down the head of his cock. A moan sounded from him, and he sounded like an angel.
“Fuckkk, already spitting on my cock. Little minx y’are.” His eyes went half lidded, and he fought to keep them open. Just to watch your all too curious expression and your hands glide over his cock.
“Faster?” You asked, looking for advice.
“Squeeze it, baby. Then stroke it.” He directed, struggling to form the words.
Then struggling even more not to cry out as you did just as he asked.
“Y/N.” He hissed, bucking his hips up as you started stroking his cock with a moderate pace.
“You look very pretty.” You meekly stated, admiring the way his face has flushed and lips have parted all from your touch.
You speed up your hands, watching intensely as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth in attempt to control himself.
“My god, your hands…” He moans, arm coming to drape over his forehead as he rolled his hips into your warm hand.
You took liberty to swipe your thumb over his tip, and your eyebrows raising as his whole body shudders.
“To know you’re fucking my cock with your spit and your hand.” He sighs out, heat building in his stomach.
“Can I touch here too?” Your hand gently ghosts over where his balls are, and you’re not sure if that’s somewhere he wants you to touch.
“Fuck yes, baby. Ohhh god, I’m gonna come so fast.” He is moaning suddenly without care as you massage him attentively.
Dragging your hands back up to his cock, you continue to stroke and rub along him.
“Want to see you finish too…” you smile, also excited to see the way his body reacts when he comes.
“Cant wait to paint your hand in my fuckin’ come.” He pants, hand gripping the couch cushion near his head.
He can probably feel you getting wet on him again. Seeing him like this has you a mess.
“Fuck— any faster and I’m gonna come on your hand Y/N.” He moans, now his thighs being the ones trembling.
You fuck his cock with your fist faster, in awe of the way he moans out as his orgasm hits him.
Ropes of his warm come spurting out his tip, spilling down your hand as you keep up the pace.
Waiting until he whines with the overstimulation.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He shakes his head, blissed out from his orgasm.
Hazily taking in the way you lick a stripe up your thumb, where his come had landed.
You enjoyed the flavour of it, salty and overall pleasant on your tastebuds.
“Can I?” You leant down, wanting more off his cock.
“God, love— wanting to clean the come off my damn cock it tasted that good.” He praises you, letting your mouth gently slide over his softening dick.
You make quick work of the mess, and he remarks shortly, “fuck, gonna have to spend some more time later with your mouth wrapped around me. You’re like an angel.”
Once you’re done, you pull his shorts back over him and watch him smile, dragging you in for another soft kiss— regardless of whether his dick was just in your mouth.
“Alright pretty, let’s get cleaned up before you start grinding anymore on my thigh. Can feel you already getting wet again.”
“Yes, Harry.” You whisper, letting him pick you up and carry you to the bathroom.
———
#harry styles#harry styles smut#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles oneshot#harry styles fluff#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#fanfiction#best friend!harry#fwb harry#he’s so fine#fbh#frat boy harry#harry styles smutshot#smut#thigh riding
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Sweet Creature
harry styles masterlist
pairing: kinda dark!harry styles x reader
summary: harry’s mother finds a girl on the side of the street one day while harry’s away. he hears about her for months, until he finally decides to see for himself. expecting her to be an undercover rat, he is surprised to find a girl more similar to a deer in headlights.
warning: kinda dark harry kinda alludes to him doing illegal, mafia type stuff but it isn’t specified. third person writing instead of second, READER DOESN’T USE HER REAL NAME!!! she will eventually just not yet.
—
harry had been hearing about some girl non-stop. by who, you may ask?
his mother.
his sweet, kind mother somehow found a girl who was living on the streets, took her in (gave her his room!), and is obsessed with her.
“oh, harry, she’s just the sweetest! gemma says she’s like a kicked puppy, but she’s just so sweet. this morning, i woke up, and she’d cleaned the whole house! and i asked her why, because i obviously didn’t tell her to, and she said she figured she should. you’d love her. proper sweetheart.”
and honestly, it was sweet. he probably would like her if he wasn’t the way he is. because the way he is, he thinks it’s a trap. he thinks she was never really living on the streets, and it’s a ploy. someone found his family and is trying to ruin it.
but, of course, he’d never let his mother know of the way he actually is and thinks, or what he does for a living.
“she sounds lovely, mum. what did you say her name was?”
“she says it’s belle. she’s always singing some french song. i think she lived in france before she got here.. i’m not sure. she isn’t very talkative.”
“she got an accent?”
“a little bit of everything, hazza. when will you come visit? i think you have to be the one to tell her that your room is hers now. she keeps saying ‘harry’s room’ and ‘your son’s room’. i feel horrible!”
“she’s probably just weary mum. if she was on the streets before, she probably just doesn’t want to jinx it.”
“you’re right.. gosh, she won’t even let gemma and i buy her things. she just borrows gemma’s clothes and apologizes a bunch for it. i’m not sure what to do.”
“i’ll come visit soon.”
—
and he did. a surprise visit in the middle of the night, because he was convinced he’s find this belle girl doing shady things .
except when he snuck in the front door, the house was quiet.
alright, he supposes, she’s stealthy.
so he goes upstairs and quietly opens his bedroom door.
and that’s when it’s a little louder. a girl is twisted and turning and mumbling in her sleep on his bed.
all she is saying, from what he can hear, is no. no, no, no, no, no. please, no.
and he feels a little bad, so he walks over to tap her. when that doesn’t work, he shakes her.
her eyes snap open and she has probably the worst reaction possible in this situation.
she fucking screams. like a goddamn banshee.
and sure, it lasts for maybe five seconds, probably four, but she definitely woke his mother up. and it’s so loud, he backs up to the doorway.
gemma was probably still passed out. she would sleep through the world ending.
“hey! it’s just me, calm down!”
she squinted at him through the darkness before yanking the chain on the lamp, turning it on.
he could hear her practically hyperventilating from the doorway.
she let out a sigh of relief when she recognized him from the photos in the living room.
“you really are jumpy, huh?”
“i woke up to a random man hovering over me,” she deadpans.
he almost laughs.
“it’s my room.”
and it’s like a fucking switch. her breaths are staggered and labored, but she still rushes out a whole ass monologue. kicked puppy, indeed.
“oh, my god. i am so sorry. i forgot. i can— i can take the couch— you probably want to sleep in your bed. i’m sorry, anne didn’t say you were coming by or else i would’ve cleaned up—“
the room is spotless, probably cleaner than when he stays in it, but harry doesn’t say that.
“i’ll just.. grab my blanket and stuff and go to the couch. i’m so sorry, i didn’t know—“
“relax,” he finally says. “i knew you’d be in here. i was just.. grabbing a pillow. didn’t realize mum was serious about you being jumpy.”
“oh.. uh.. are you sure? i can take the couch—“
“belle— belle, right?” she nods. “go back to bed. i have slept on plenty of couches. i will survive.”
“i feel bad.”
“well, don’t.”
he should feel bad. she is very clearly not dangerous unless she is a phenomenal actress.
“you’re not mad, are you? because i can sleep on the couch—“
“jesus, are y’gonna cry?”
“i can’t help it! i’m sorry!—“
“what on earth is going on— harry! what did you do!” anne asked as she rushed through the doorway, moving to sit next to belle.
“i didn’t do anything!” he defends.
“he didn’t do anything, anne,” she repeats. “just.. frightened me, is all.”
anne gives her a look before pulling her into a hug, and she just flips another switch and instead of watering eyes, she sobs.
who the hell is her acting coach? maybe he could take a few lessons.
“h, go get her a cuppa.. and there’s those baby yogurt melts in the cupboard.”
he doesn’t comment on the fact that belle is at the very least 19, and probably shouldn’t be eating baby food.
—
the next morning, belle made her way downstairs quietly. she was surprised to see harry making a cup of tea this early, but she didn’t say anything, not wanting to disturb his peace.
she adjusted her earbuds in her ear (anne offered to buy her better ones, airpods or something, but she was fine with her earbuds, even if the wire was a pain in the ass), so they didn’t fall out as she walked.
once she made it into the kitchen, she walked into the pantry, grabbing some random granola bar.
when she turned, she jumped. harry was right behind her. well, in front of her now.
“sorry,” she mumbled, moving out of his way.
he muttered something she didn’t understand.
“um.. sorry about.. last night. i’m kind of jumpy.”
“i noticed.”
he was very short. he didn’t seem to like her much.
“you can.. uh.. take your.. room back.. if you want.”
“it’s yours. i’m fine.”
“are you—“
“i’m sure.”
rude. why was he so rude? what had she done to him? well, besides scream at him, but in her defense, he was just hovering over her! that’s weird!
—
harry still didn’t trust her after a week of being there. she kept to herself for the most part, although he was pretty sure he heard her and gemma giggling in the middle of the night.
he just couldn’t figure out who sent her. why she was here.
his mother explained her freakout when he showed up eventually.
“you gotta be careful with her, h. she’s like.. a bunny, in a way. if you aren’t careful in how you approach her and speak to her, she bolts. first day she was here, i asked her what happened, because she had this horrible cut on her cheek. locked herself in your room for a week. i think whatever put her on the streets is a sensitive topic, and was difficult for her.”
“i jus’ dunno if i trust her, mum.”
“well, i do. she’s sweet, she just needs to warm up to you. she warmed up to me and gemma after about a week or two.. and she’s been more jumpy when gem brings michael around. so.. she might just need a minute.”
“the whole thing just seems.. shady.”
“she’ll tell us when she’s ready. and until then, you’ll make her feel welcomed. speaking of, i’m gonna go wash her clothes. poor girl won’t let us buy her anything. she just has these same clothes she had and a few things gemma convinced her to use.”
—
a/n: little thing i wrote on a plane, part 2 soon-ish maybe
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles fic#harry styles imagine#harry styles oneshot#harry styles au#harry styles angst#harry styles x you#harry styles fluff#harry styles one shot#harry imagine#harry oneshot#harry fic#harry#styles#harry and belle#sweet creature series
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2022
Y/n stepped into the studio in search of her boyfriend, who had been eluding her for a couple hours now. He woke up before she did, then went off on a morning run, then to rehearsals, and now that everyone was back, she still couldn't find him. Another person might've assumed he was avoiding her, or everyone, but she knew Harry better than most people. He was as clingy as they got, often crawling on top of her when she was at her desk to get her attention and his constant insistence on being the little spoon whenever the two of them watched TV at home. But Y/n knew he liked his space from time to time.
With a little more searching through the unfamiliar Palm Springs house, she found Harry laying in the middle of the studio, one arm draped across his eyes. From her vantage point, Y/n could see her boyfriend's chest rise and fall slowly, as if he'd fallen asleep on the carpeted floor.
"Come lay with me."
Y/n was a little startled to hear his voice, she could've sworn his eyes were closed at the very least, but he must've seen her come in. Still, she didn't question him, didn't say much at all until she was next to him, cheek nestled against his black hoodie. Y/n closed her eyes too, her hand sneaking beneath Harry's layers of clothes to feel his warm skin beneath his palm. Harry hummed, leaning into her touch a little as her breath kept time with his.
"H?"
"Yeah?" he replied, his voice low and croaky.
"Why are we on the floor when there's a perfectly good bed for us to sleep in upstairs?"
"I'm not sleeping," he mumbled.
Y/n picked her head up off his chest, and she smiled a little at the slight pout that turned the corners of his mouth downward. "Then what are we doing?"
"Meditating."
But it was clear Harry was content to lay on the floor in complete silence, so Y/n obliged, once again resting her head against his chest and focusing on his breathing. Minutes passed until she wasn't sure how long they'd been laying prone like that, but she didn't say anything. Even when she started to feel the hard floor beneath the rug and grew uncomfortable, she stayed put. There was something on Harry's mind, Y/n could tell. He was just finding the words.
He said it with finality, as if that was an obvious reason to be laying on the floor of the house's studio. But Harry was like that sometimes, believing him and Y/n were so in synch that she could read his thoughts. Most of the time she could follow his train of thought without him having to say anything, though even she had to admit this was unusual behavior for her boyfriend.
"You're supposed to be meditating," Harry mumbled.
Harry might've been meditating, but Y/n had never been all that good at it personally. She could hardly get through basic yoga poses without getting distracted or falling into a fit of giggles. Now her eyes were getting heavy, the smell of Harry's cologne and the soft material of his sweatshirt putting her to sleep.
Blinking slowly, Y/n inched her way up until she was face to face with her boyfriend. His eyes were closed, and if he hadn't just spoken, she would've guessed he was asleep. Tapping his nose gently, she said, "You're taking too long to talk to me."
"Oh. Well, excuse me," Harry said, one corner of his mouth turning up into a crooked smile.
"You know what I mean," Y/n said. She kissed his jaw, her thumb grazing the other side of his face. "We're laying on the floor in the middle of a studio. That's pretty strange, even for an eccentric celebrity such as yourself."
"You're just full of jokes after your nap."
"I wasn't napping!" Y/n insisted, pinching his stomach. Harry giggled and pinched her back until they were both rolling around the studio and play-wrestling until both breathing heavily with laughter. The tussle ended with Harry on top of Y/n his knit sunflower hat tickling her forehead.
"Talk to me. What's bothering you?" she asked him gently. She took his hat off and ran her hand through his hair, twirling a strand around her finger.
"It's all just...happening so fast," Harry finally admitted. He rolled back onto the floor, his head turning so he could still face Y/n. "I feel like just yesterday we were quarantining back home, and now we're here, and I...Am I crazy if I kind of miss it?"
Y/n's gaze softened. "You were chomping at the bit to go on tour when lockdown started," she said, smiling at the memory of those first few weeks. "And now the world is opening up and you get to perform again. This is a good thing, bub."
She and Harry hadn't been dating for very long when lockdown started, but they stayed in a bubble with Sarah and Mitch, which helped to make it feel like she and Harry weren't diving into moving in together so quickly. Y/n worried she would grow to despise him or discover a habit of his she didn't like and vice versa after spending so much quality one-on-one time together, but she didn't, and neither did he. Eventually the two of them quarantined without their friends, and Harry was right, it was honestly the best time. Y/n had never felt so close to someone before. All the movie nights and making dinners and late night wine and card games and cuddling for hours while sharing secrets and staying up and helping him with his music were so precious to her, and she wouldn't trade it for anything. But this was important too.
"I know what you mean," Y/n said. "I've missed my all-access pass to Harry Styles whenever I want."
Harry grinned. "You still have that, dork."
"And you still have me," she said earnestly. "But you're also going on tour again, H, and that's amazing. This album is so good, and you've worked so hard. If you need to take a step back from it all and have to decompress with little old me, you can. You know you can. But this is good too, okay? This is great. I mean, look at where we are? Coachella? Come on."
"I'm so nervous," Harry admitted.
"That's okay," Y/n told him. "I know you're gonna be great. And after that? We'll come back here and unwind. We can still do what we did during lockdown, bubbie. We'll just take it on tour. If I'm invited, that is."
Harry gave her a funny look. "Of course you're coming."
"Okay. Then that's that. Nothing to worry about."
Y/n grinned at him, but Harry just kind of stared at her. Normally she was pretty good at reading her boyfriend, but this was a look she'd never seen before. She was about to ask him what he was thinking now when he blurted,
"I'm gonna marry you someday," he said quietly, turning on his shoulder so he could face Y/n better.
Her eyes widened. They'd never talked about the future like that before. Y/n had been hoping and praying that Harry was the one for a while now and that he felt the same, but it had never been put in such plain terms before. Or out loud.
"Promise?" was all she could think to say.
Harry nodded. "Promise."
Y/n's grin was wider than anything she thought was capable. "Now can you please take me upstairs so we can lay on something other than a rug over hardwood floors?"
Rolling his eyes playfully, Harry stood up and helped Y/n to her feet, promptly picking her up until his legs were around his waist. "My fiance is so demanding," he said, leaning in for a kiss, but she stopped him by placing a finger on his mouth.
"Absolutely not. I am not your fiance until you ask me properly on one knee with a ring in your hand. And you can't call me anything else but your girlfriend until you do."
Harry looked amused but didn't argue, just raised his brows and glanced down at where Y/n's finger was still pressed against his lips. Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping the ends of his curls excitedly as he walked them out of the studio.
#harry styles#boyfriendrry#harry styles blurb#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles fluff#harry styles writing#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic
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𝐘/𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒
➯ A VANILLA LIME EXTRA.
✰ demon!harry valentine’s day fluff. sexual content. mild degradation. mocking and teasing. minors dni.
𝑤𝑐 3.4k
ッ vanilla lime masterlist
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Y/N blinks in a way that she can only assume demonstrates befuddlement. She turns around half-expecting Harry to shove something less than pleasant in her direction. Flick her nose or smack her arse. But he stands rather sheepishly before her, hand hidden behind his back and a hint of a redness spattered around his cheeks despite the harsh line of his mouth.
She frowns, “What’s this? What did you say?”
“It’s February 14th,” he states, surveying Y/N as if to make sure she reacts in a way that doesn’t catch him off guard. When she raises his eyebrows, silently expectant that he explain himself, Harry presents the object behind his back. He’d procured it only minutes before.
“It’s—”
“—a bouquet.”
Y/N bites her lip to curb a teasing smile—although she feels the pleasant warmth filling her chest unreservedly—stopping herself from saying I can see that. “Starting to like these human holidays, huh?” reaching for the flowers without hesitation, quick to melt in front of him contrary to the front she likes to display.
He plays dumb. “Holiday? Is a holiday obligatory to be able to give your girlfriend flowers?” He slings a cocky arm around her shoulder, now that his offering has been met with obvious tenderness, and presses a kiss into the side of her head. “Something about this Valentine’s made me want to celebrate it… can’t think what.”
A giddy giggle bubbles from Y/N’s throat, “Okay, softie,” she smiles, only slightly startled by the realisation that— “I didn’t get you anything,” looking up at him with apologetic eyes widened in adoration.
“Oh, well I’ll have these back then.” Harry’s paws hardly have to uncurl to make space for the stems, blindly reaching from over the curve of her shoulder.
“Ah! No!” Y/N shrieks, pulling them away from his thieving fingers. Her body is no match for the strength of his but she tries her hardest. “They’re mine now, you can’t have them back.”
“I could kill them,” his eyes darken around the edges as he threatens to curl the edges of the petals and turn them a sorry wilted colour.
“You wouldn’t dare.” And she’s right. No, he wouldn’t.
Their morning is no different to any other—aside from the blooming petals decorating Y/N’s kitchen table, and she’s certain Harry keeps leaving new flowers inside the vase. She’s half worried she’ll blink for a moment and her entire bedroom will be filled with an assortment of foliage; she’d be able to open a garden centre from the comfort of her own home.
Harry has seemed a little softer lately but Y/N would never say anything—worried he might amp up the bullying in an embarrassed retaliation. It’s not as if she doesn’t love the way he plays with her, but it is undeniable that seeing her demon becoming sappy and fuzzy around the edges makes her heart all mushy just the same.
It makes her think back to a different time—when she pretended to hate the way he made her feel, and Harry relished in the grumpy outbursts he elicited. It’s why when he asks her, “Is there anything you want to do today?” that Y/N thinks—yes, yes there is.
“Can we— I was wondering…” It’s not scary to ask but…
A smile tugs at the corner of the demon’s lips, “Mhm…”
Only through fear of embarrassment does she stutter, “Would you like to… I don’t know— I was just kind of thinking it might be nice to go and see the cottage.”
Harry tilts his head for a moment, like a patiently awaiting dog that’s heard their owner ask them if they want a treat. And once it registers, he doesn’t react the way Y/N expects. He frowns, trips over his own words like he’s sure he’s misheard her. “Are you— Really?”
“What? Is that bad?”
“It’s just— well, no. I’d have thought that place would haunt your nightmares or something.”
Oh. That’s… that’s unexpectedly thoughtful and overwhelmingly distressing all at once. “You really think that?” Did he? Was it a regular worry of his? Does he look back upon a moment in time that Y/N cherishes but see it through glasses tinted with the overcast of a grey sky.
“I don’t know… maybe.”
Y/N’s eyebrows dip slightly—sadly, “Oh, Harry—”
He cuts her off before those pitiful eyes pierce through the skin over his chest, “—Okay, Bambi.”
But she’s determined now—to make new memories and relive old ones. “I love that little cottage. Can we go back? Only if you want to.”
“Of course, I want to. I want what you want.”
The saccharine timbre of his voice soaks into the flesh of her cheeks—warm and buzzing—and it’s hard not to bite her lip as she starts to get excited. “So we can go?”
Harry smooths a palm over the top of her head, mussing the hair there just so he can watch her fix it, mumbling out a soft, “Yeah, we can go, sweetheart.”
It’s like nothing has changed.
Y/N and Harry appear at the doorstep and it’s as if the cottage has been sealed inside a bubble—unaffected by the hands of time. She supposes it is entirely possible that time does move differently here; it is glistening with magic after all.
She can see the ghost of herself storming off, tripping over a rogue root and being cushioned by the wrap of Harry’s body. She can see the side of the cottage peeking out, its pathway yearning for footfalls, the lake rippling underneath the canopy of the magical willow tree and the memory of their first kiss emanates a glow. A sense of calm washes over her—her home away from home—a part of herself connected to this place in the same way she is to Harry.
As soon as her counterpart opens the door, Y/N is barging her way inside, desperate to see that everything on the interior is just the same as the exterior. It’s like falling headfirst into a memory, and once she’s given a head start, her feet carry her away in a rushed and giddy sprint. Harry doesn’t use any magic, he follows her slowly, lets her run whilst he calmly walks, and still makes it to the bedroom only a few seconds after she’s arrived.
He watches with an amused smile as Y/N jumps onto the bed, Harry’s bed—the one he’d slept in when they’d stayed here all that time ago. Watches as she inhales less than subtly and nuzzles her face into the sheets when she happily finds that they still smell of him. He watches but not for long because his automatic reaction is to gravitate towards her, climb up onto the end of the bed and flatten his body out on top of hers.
She lets out a girlish grunt from the weight, squawking in a pitchy cacophony, “Urgh! Heavy.”
A mere grumble is all she is returned with—full of fake disdain as he lets his limbs relax—“Don’t hurt my feelings.”
“No, no, ‘m not. Heavy and strong. Big and strong.”
They can feel each other’s ribs expanding with each breath; Y/N’s lagging some with the weight but not enough to warrant disrupting the sudden peace.
“Good.”
A silence falls upon them, only occasionally interrupted by inane thoughts spoken aloud. Y/N thinks she can somehow push herself further into the mattress when she sighs out, “Love this bed.”
And Harry, sleepy but not quite as much as her—demonstrated so brazenly as he quirks a smile into Y/N’s hair. “Yeah? Love the way I fucked you in it.”
There’s something so dry and cut-throat about the way drowsiness makes her sound, “You didn’t even stick it in.”
Admonished, Harry snorts, “Stick it in? Where is your decorum, Bambi? We should change that, hm?”
“Later,” she sighs, indeed melting further into the bed with a dreamy noise.
Harry kisses her cheek, shifting his weight off of her so that he can tug her body into his side instead. “Y’tired?”
“A little. I wanted to do something though.”
“What’s that?”
“S’ a surprise,” words slurring—tangling together in the haze of her dwindling consciousness.
They sleep for a while—thirty minutes, an hour, maybe—Y/N loses track of the time in this place but it’s never been less of a problem. Everything is the way it is meant to be when they’re here. And when the pair uncurl from around one another Y/N mewls in delight as the memory of their destination washes over her once more. It fuels her with bubbling energy, body twitching to burn it off but Harry doesn’t release her waist the way she hopes for—his sleepy brain unguarded in its blatant likeness to someone’s old, grumpy cat that hisses in distaste if ever awoken.
Y/N tries to slip out from beneath his ironclad grasp but she’s met with a grumble, low like the distant hum of an engine. “Let me out.” It’s a meek request—not the most persuasive she’s ever sounded in her life—almost as if… perhaps… she doesn’t really want to leave the warmth of Harry’s body and the smell of his soft clothes.
“Stop talking.”
“Come to the kitchen with me.” Her voice whispers like they’re not the only two people to be existing for miles upon miles.
And that’s how she lures him into baking an attempt at coquettishly shaped cookies—hearts (that Harry is less than impressed with, “Not even your heart is shaped like that, Bambi.”) and bows, flowers and bunnies—with a palette of pinks to smother their tops in. Y/N is so delighted in her mischief, watching Harry like a hawk to gauge his miffed reactions, although deep down, both of them are aware of a level of playful annoyance. Their penchant for getting on each other’s nerves only fuels the gears of their affections for one another.
“I could just… y’know, give you some cookies—we don’t need to go through the whole process.”
Y/N thinks he’s just grumpy for the sake of it—grumpy and old. Like a cat. “That defeats the whole point, Harry. It’s fun! Aren’t you having fun with me?” She widens her eyes, purposefully big to tug on those demonic heartstrings of his.
He only frowns, nose crinkling ever so slightly to indicate he sees right through her. But whether he does or not never makes much of a difference. “Yeah, no. Of course. Of course, I’m having fun,” he raps his knuckles on the table impatiently, “I love…” drumming out an annoying rhythm, “...spending my finite time on this planet waiting for tiny, wee biscuits to bake that’ll take me five seconds to inhale.”
He thinks it’s funny because he’s immortal. Y/N doesn’t laugh. “You’re such an old fart, oh my god.”
Harry hums, unperturbed by the slight mockery she makes of him as he slinks his arms around her middle and mumbles into her neck, “A certain little human lady is teaching me bad habits.”
“What does Mr. Impatient want to do whilst we wait?”
“I can think of something…” fingers teasing at the bottom of her soft cotton t-shirt, slender digits dancing along the line of skin he discovers.
“Of course you can,” she rolls her eyes to herself, trying to dampen the smile that dictates the shape of her mouth. “That’s for later, Harry.”
“Huh?” She’s inclined to believe that he’s drunk on her already—from a brush against her midriff. His warm body presses against her back and Y/N is nearly convinced to lean into his embrace and encourage his hands to explore across her front.
“You can’t seduce me.”
“Think that’s what I’m doing right now.”
“I won’t let these cookies burn because of you.”
“We don’t have to go anywhere—you can keep an eye on them the whole time… I don’t need to take your clothes off to make you cum.”
He nearly gets her. So very nearly. Made obvious by the lag in her reply and the catch of her breath that only someone like Harry could possibly hear. But Y/N wins for now, painfully stubborn as she pushes her head back to lean on his shoulder whilst simultaneously denying him. “No, you can wait.”
Harry makes sure she pays for her questionable prioritisation.
“You made me wait. Now it’s your turn, isn’t it?” His lips curve upwards into a satisfied grin as he undresses her—after a gently firm shove to push her to the bed—cruel to do as such whilst he promises not to touch her. “Oh? What’s this? Got all dressed up for me, did you?”
“No,” she grumbles. “S’for my other boyfriend.” The white lace shudders against her ribs as Y/N exhales shortly; the air punched from her lungs as Harry traces the pads of his fingertips along each bump. She resists squirming.
“Mm, that is such a shame. He won’t get to see it,” Harry juts his bottom lip out in a condescending pout. “But seeing as I’m here to admire… let’s make a few changes, shall we?” Y/N has no time to agree or disagree—to even ponder upon the question for a moment before the colour of her skimpy lingerie transforms before her eyes.
Angelic white swirls into midnight black, blossoming from the centre of her chest and swirling outwards to swallow all traces of innocence. Y/N lets out an astonished gasp—never quite expectant of Harry’s free use of magic. It seems her innately human vessel will never grasp the ease in which he procures objects, feelings—moods and senses alike.
“I liked the white,” she huffs, unable to appropriately convey her frustrations when she knows, really, that nothing Harry does is irreversible. Everything is impermanent when you can wield magic. Well… nearly everything.
“Something darker… is a little more fitting, don’t you think?”
Y/N didn’t assume that this Valentine’s would necessarily end in a passionate romp between her and Harry—she knows that the holiday is sort of an excuse for partners to have sex but… they’ve never needed one before. However, had it been playing on her mind, she’s not sure she would’ve had edging on the cards for this romantic date.
No one is to blame but Y/N for being so careless in her thought process—because it’s Harry. And Harry is cruel—cruel yet sentimental in the strangest of ways.
“You remember what happened in this bed, don’t you, Bambi?”
Yes. Yes, she remembers all too well. How could a person ever possibly forget such a night? He tortured her. It was blissful delirium.
She’d tried to beg, she really had, hoping that maybe a surrender may win him over but—no matter how much his sharp edges have become smooth curves—he is still a demon, and the prospect of squeezing tears from the corners of her eyes was too much to surpass.
That was nearly an hour ago, and Y/N is at her breaking point.
“Listen. Listen to me. Hands—” he shoves them roughly above her head, “—up.” Y/N doesn’t want to listen to him. Harry has been all lewd strokes and overexaggerated groans for at least fifteen minutes… his fingers coated in the remnants of her arousal—and her resolve is weak. She wants to touch him; caress the ruddy head that beads with precum, that slicks down his shaft and makes him shine. Her mouth waters for it and her arms struggle to stretch out. “Yeah—yeah, keep trying, keep trying baby. You’re so fucking crazy for it. Such a desperate little thing, hm?”
Frustration bubbles in her throat, sliced in half by a whimper—pathetic and needy. “Not again, don’t do this again, Harry.” Her cunt pulsates, the gusset of her newly dyed panties soaked through. He hasn’t even ghosted a breath over her warmth. She throbs with the memory of the first time he’d done this—made her cum with a few thuds and glides against her clit. He would be evil to do that again.
Harry twists his wrist on every stroke, humming out a feigned agreement, “Okay, alright. What should I do instead?” Y/N knows it matters little what she says, but she doesn’t even part her lips before he continues squeezing himself to the sound of his own voice.
“You want me to touch that pretty pussy, do you?” Y/N nods anyway—despite everything. Harry pouts, “Oh, why’s that? S’all achy?”
“Please, Harry,” her words topple out in a sigh. She doesn’t want to whine, she wants to hold out and appear completely unaffected by everything that he does but— “Please?”
“My girl’s all helpless f’me. Helpless and wet, isn’t that right?”
“Yeah,” she’s reduced to a whisper as Harry leans down, crowding her space with his broad body. The promise of his silky skin hangs above her, imprisoned in the palm of his hand. Her eyes trail down his front unashamedly, silently wanting.
He smothers her lips with his own and they taste like sugar. Sugary sweet from the cookies he’d moaned lavishly over; only half a performance, the other half satisfied to have waited for them to bake after all.
But now, Harry doesn’t think of confectionery—not in any sort of edible form anyway. Or in the traditional sense, at least. Right now, Harry licks all the flavour from Y/N’s mouth. He’s messy and he’s unhurried, sliding a palm up to curl around her patiently awaiting hands—locked up in her own embrace above her head. Their digits entwine with one another and all lingering thoughts, had there been any to begin with, just drift away.
Y/N barely registers the rip between her thighs as Harry tears at the seams of her underwear without even a hitch of his motions. Her gasp is delayed—only permitted when the demon pulls back an inch to allow her a short inhale—and then all she can do is whine into his mouth as the familiar teasing pressure buds at her entrance.
It’s unlike Harry not to draw out every drag and watch the sensitivity wash over Y/N’s face. It’s unlike him but Y/N can’t say she dislikes the snap of his hips against hers and the force in which his body nudges her up the bed. Sounds are forced from her lungs like angry fists to a punching bag, eyes wide open and tied to the magnetism of Harry’s own—a mirror image of two mouths dropped open in dumb pleasure.
“Cum around me,” he pants through short shuffles to frame his forearms on either side of her head as he cups the top of her scalp in an overwhelming desire to carry the weight of her. “Cum around me, baby. Let me feel you.”
And it’s hardly a chore. Not when her insides were already tightening, teetering on the edge as if waiting for those words of permission, his blessing, his yearning. Eyes roll back and knees jerk, souls reach out to wisp and curl around one another if just for a second, as Y/N pulls Harry along with her and over the edge.
They’re a harmony of ecstasy, a single soul comprised of two vessels—as their blood rushes through their veins and thrums underneath the surface of their warm skin. Harry settles on top of her, nestled snugly inside like there could never possibly be another option. They won’t be finished for the evening; that goes without saying.
He fusses over individual strands of her hair, smoothing them down and silently ridiculing the sweat that misplaced them. Y/N breaths quietly beneath him, eyelids fluttering closed in an unmistakable image of a happy fatigue. She speaks in sleepy murmurs, lips heavy to move but she tries her best. “You know you don’t have to celebrate human holidays just for me, right?”
Harry’s hum vibrates through her chest, “I know… but I heard a rumour that they’re not so bad,” he dips down to her ear, making her squeal and tilt her head to try and hide in her neck, “if it means seeing you so happy.”
”You’re such a romantic,” it’s meant to be teasing but as she forces her eyes open, they practically cast out holographic hearts. Y/N won’t admit it but, she’s always wished to redefine Valentine’s day—to spend it with someone who actually matters, who won’t make her resent each year that it comes around, to celebrate each other with tried and true simplicity.
She thinks they’d meet in another life—without all the magic—her and Harry. It’s a feeling so strong when she looks into his eyes, a feeling that makes it feel possible to will things into existence just by dreaming about them hard enough.
And Harry always seems to understand, as if he might be doing the same, as he dips down to whisper into her parted lips, “I spent a long time yearning for a companion like you, my little love. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
#harry styles#vanilla lime#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#harry styles one shots#harry styles blurbs#harry styles imagines#harry styles fanfiction#writing#demonrry#demon!harry
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simple questions
MASTERLIST
Summary: in which Harry is eager to makes his girl happy and she just wants answers to simple questions
Author’s Note: a blurb i wrote based on these Harry pics because I am NOT over it
Word Count: 2.6k words
•••
Her boyfriend was an idiot. That’s what Y/N resolved as she watched him stumble over his words as he was asked a simple question of, “Who’s the girl you’re with?”. It wasn’t even anyone important asking, just a fan who’d noticed Harry and felt brave enough to ask for a photo, albeit with hands that shook as she passed over her phone.
It had started as Y/N’s idea. She knew she was entirely at fault for Harry’s nerves, but it wasn’t even completely her idea. She had just asked him, “Have you ever had a public outing with a partner?”
It was an innocent question, asked due to pure curiosity, not with any ulterior motive as Harry suspected. He had given her a look, trying to get a read on her intent behind those words. He tended to do that a lot. Doubt people’s words, like they had some double meaning, and they were trying to trick him into making a fool of himself. She had a tough time getting him to trust her enough as to not doubt her as much, but the trust issues slipped through every once in a while.
Harry then stumbled over his words, the way a newborn doe might trip and fall as it clambered onto its frail legs. Simple questions were never his forte. He could answer you deep, philosophical questions and ponder them in his mind without hesitation, but it was the simple questions that tripped him up. A whole conundrum, if you asked Y/N.
Eventually, Harry admitted, “No.”
She’d stared at him with a deadpan expression, because it had taken an extraordinary amount of ‘um’s and ‘uh’, along with some weird humming sounds to get a one-word answer from him.
So she followed up with, “Don’t you wanna?”
“Do you want me to do it with you?”
“Well, no, I was just asking because-“
“I’ll do it with you,” Harry rushed to say.
Sometimes he tended to rush himself into doing favors for people he didn’t really want to do. A tendency lots of overly kind people had. And he’d always have this particular warm, soft tone when he did. And she loved that little tone that indicated he was feeling kind. But lots of times he regretted agreeing to those things and would stumble home to her apartment, grumbling and griping about whatever stupidity he’d been forced to do. So it grew into a strange mixture of adoration and disdain for that tone. Because she never liked to see her boy tired to the bone because he was too polite to back away from a promise. (Although she did love running her fingers through his soft hair until he fell asleep with his head on her lap)
This time, however, Harry wasn’t using that warm tone. It was a much different one, a bit of a higher pitch, and with a much sweeter undertone. It was a tone he used when he was trying to win the favor of his girlfriend.
She chuckled, “Baby, I didn’t ask you to-“
Harry had one arm rested on her waist and the other underneath the pillow she rested her head on. “But I wanna,” He said with a small pout, an almost whiny quality to his words. His cherry lips looked so kissable when they stuck out that way. “Wanna show the world you’re mine.” He leaned up until his nose was nuzzling her neck, and his lips brushed against her collarbone. “Mine and only mine.”
His lips clamped down on her skin, sucking at it for a moment before allowing his teeth to nibble lightly. Sharp stings followed wherever his teeth sunk in so deliciously, sending sparks throughout her whole body.
Y/N had learned early on that Harry had a very possessive side to him. He’d spent years feeling that everything he was belonged to the public, including all the dirty details of his personal life and his friends and partners. And now he had regained that privacy (he’d had to pry it by force from the unfailing grip of the media), he wanted to claim everything as his own.
It was why Harry was so fiercely protective of his friends and loyal to a fault. He felt the incessant urge to always stick by their side. He finally knew what it was like to have something belong to him, and it was his greatest fear to lose it.
After a lot of therapy, communication and compromise, Harry had not only found a healthy balance for himself but for his relationship with Y/N as well. A certain possessiveness that she wouldn’t deny him because she could never refuse anything he asked, and it was just part of who he was. But a harsh line as to not become controlling or overprotective as Harry had threatened to do in previous relationships.
The habits snuck into their daily lives, as Harry had a tendency to leave marks where everyone could see them. Therefore, the hickeys on the neck which Y/N always had to cover with concealer because she despised turtlenecks with a passion.
“Love, I’m not doubting your choice,” she began to speak, interrupted by Harry leaving open-mouthed kisses from her jugular up to the base of her jaw. And it was getting hard to think straight when his lips were on her and his tongue was tracing delightful patterns.
Y/N cleared her throat trying to focus. “However, I don’t want this to be an impulse decision. Think it through.”
Harry separated his lips from her skin long enough to murmur, “I’m sure. I wanted to make it public to everyone soon anyways, might as well go out together.” As he spoke, his warm breath grazed against her sensitive skin, causing goosebumps.
“Go out where?”
“The Man U match, obviously.”
And that was why Y/N spent the next week fussing over her choice of hairstyle, whether to leave her natural waves or straighten it or straighten it and then create strategically messy waves. And then freaking out on the phone to her best friend about whether her outfit was a good choice or not. Because of course, she had to look stylish for her first public appearance with Harry- those photos would be circulating the internet until the day she died- but she also had to dress for the unforgiving winter and plan for rain. Even if she was going to be in the VIP suite with Harry, the entrance and exit could possibly have rain, and she couldn’t always count on an umbrella. She’d learned that the five times she’d gotten stuck in the rain while waiting at a too-full bus stop in peak traffic in London.
The point was, Y/N didn’t want to let down Harry nor the fans by wearing the wrong hairstyle, clothes or makeup. Resulting in overthinking every tiny detail down to the jewelry.
The morning of, it was Harry who soothed her nerves saying, “Love, if you don’t want to do it we don’t have to. It was always a choice.”
“I want to, but it’s just…” She looked up at him with a shaky breath. “It’s scary.”
“We can wait,” Harry replied, placing her face in his hands, his thumb caressing her cheek. “We’ll stay home and watch the game on the telly, we’ll wear our sweats and I’ll order in some food from that Thai place you’ve been wanting to try.”
Taking a good look at Harry from top to bottom, from those dress pants that clung to his thighs in the most delightful manner, and the button-up that tragically hid his well-sculpted biceps to the sweater vest he’d bought the first time they’d gone shopping together. He looked so soft and warm, yet so confident and sure of himself. Like a scale that had finally found balance.
Harry had an energy that screamed youthful, but he’d recently settled into the warm feeling of peace that came not with age, but the realization that chaos wasn’t necessary to be happy. He wasn’t afraid of his career always being on the chopping block, or the precarious opinions of outsiders. He had found himself, and with it, found an inner peace he’d never had before.
And it showed. From the way he dressed, to the courage of him showing up to their hotel room with the surprise of a shaved head one day, to the way he carried himself so firmly. He was centered. He was calm. And he was happy.
This was the first time everyone else would get to see Harry after the latest stage of his self-discovery. And Y/N wouldn’t be the one to hold him back. “No, I want to go,” she said firmly. “But I want you to pick my outfit.”
To no one’s surprise, Harry picked an outfit that was primarily made up of clothing from his own closet, completely shoving aside the outfit she had previously picked out for herself because, “Babe, I have better taste than you.”
Y/N didn’t have bad taste, but when it came to fashion, she laid her trust in Harry… most of the time.
The only thing he kept were the jeans she’d picked out, a new pair she’d gotten recently which flattered her figure. They were high waisted and cropped at the ankle, the color a grayish tone of the classic denim. Most importantly, they highlighted her ass. The one thing that no matter how insecure she was, she always loved. And Harry did as well, if the way he swatted her ass playfully a couple of times a day was any indication.
He paired it with a long-sleeve white top that clung to her skin, a green sweater on top that was slightly baggy on her figure as it was one of his and one a black coat that would keep her warm. Harry was careful to make sure all the layers would keep her warm even in the winter air, as he knew she tolerated much less cold than he did.
“Cute,” Harry said with a dimpled smile when she finished putting on the outfit and gave him a twirl to showcase it. “You’re really pretty, darling.” He hooked his fingers through her belt loops and yanked her forward until she almost toppled into his chest as he sat on the edge of his bed. He gave her a soft smile, the kind he gave her right before a heartfelt message- “And ten times prettier because I chose the outfit.”
Y/N swatted his arm playfully at his joke, and he simply laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “It’s a basic outfit.”
“Aw, don’t be mean because the outfit I picked out is better than the one you did.”
“You’re such a bully.”
Harry grinned at her. “Is that so?”
She nodded in mock earnestness. “Yeah. I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” Harry replied simply.
“No, I don’t.”
With a couple of more kisses which included wiping the lipstick from Harry’s lips, the couple got into the car and held hands as the engine started and drove them to the stadium.
“So, we’re cheering for Man U, right?”
Harry sighed heavily. “Love, do you even know me?”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” She said with a chuckle, raising her hands defensively. “Man U for football and Green Bay Packers for the other football.” She gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry baby, but I know nothing about football.”
“I’m going to be explaining all the rules, aren’t I?”
Y/N’s silence was enough of a response.
But then it was time for the most dreaded moment of the day, when they entered the stadium hand-in-hand, walking past press and media and paparazzi.
Harry laced his fingers between hers and gave her a small squeeze before opening the car door and stepping out. He was quick, making her almost jog to catch up with his long strides. He’d warned her he would move hastily as to avoid lingering around the cameras longer than necessary.
There was one quick snap and a small flash and then-
They were inside the stadium and no press could chase them in any longer.
“Wait, that was it?” Y/N asked, glancing at the door they’d just walked through as their pace slowed down.
Harry glanced at her quizzically. “Did you expect more?”
“Well, you always describe it all huge and dramatic, flashing lights and a billion cameras and a huge crowd of screaming lunatics-“
“Football matches are different,” Harry said, chuckling as he interrupted her rant.
“I got worried over that?” Y/N signaled over her shoulder, her jaw dropping. “Seriously?!”
Harry laughed. “What do you expect me to say? You’re an overthinking maniac?”
She huffed, “This is your fault.”
Harry kissed her when her lips pouted. “Love you, darling.”
“Love you too,” She grumbled as they made their way to the VIP suite.
And that’s the full story of how they’d ended up at the Man U match- which they won, thank god, because Harry would’ve teased her relentlessly for being bad luck- and with a fan asking for a photo and asking who Y/N was.
“Um, well- she- we met- me and her-“ Harry couldn’t seem to form a train of thought, so she rolled her eyes and took control of the situation.
Holding out a hand for the fan to shake, Y/N said her name and said, “I’m Harry’s girlfriend. Nice to meet you, babe.”
The fan’s jaw dropped. It was a bit hilarious, but out of sheer politeness, Y/N held back her laughter. “You are definitely hot enough. Cool. Bye.” Turning on her heel, the fan walked away.
Harry seemed in shock as Y/N laughed, turning to him, completely bewildered. “You hear that? I’m ‘hot enough’!”
Without a care in the world of the dozen of cameras probably pointed at them, Harry grasped her face in his hands and gave her a deep, loving kiss.
Y/N scanned his face, a giddy smile on her own, “What was that for?”
“For being my girlfriend,” Harry replied before pulling her back in for another kiss. So maybe she’d allow her boyfriend a celebratory kiss or two or maybe five before they had the decency to move out of sight of the cameras. And just maybe, it wasn’t their last football match together.
Two years later, Y/N and Harry would return to the very same stadium for yet another Man U match, a bit older, a lot more mature and their love stronger after growing roots for so long. The tree flourishing with branches extending to the deeper reaches of her heart, she had never felt so fulfilled. Like the world was so much lighter and easier to endure even with the extra weight of a diamond ring on her finger, and a white gold band identical to the one on Harry’s hand.
“Who’s the girl you’re with?” The fan asked, a 15-year-old girl with her hair dyed blue and a Love On Tour shirt on, her curious eyes scanning Y/N, a flicker of familiarity in them.
Harry smiled, looking his wife up and down, admiring the outfit he’d carefully chosen for her earlier that day. He inhaled deeply, and for once, he didn’t trip over his words as he replied firmly, “This is Y/N. I’m her husband.”
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Harry is in awe of his girlfriend
A/N: something short and sweet while I work on other stories.
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Y/N loved her students.
It was obvious by all the care she put into her classroom. She got help every year to set it up with a new theme. The motivational posters, the reading chart decorated with her student’s doodles. Every detail in her room tells a story. It’s her second year, but Y/N knows it is something she wanted to do. The impact she is making may not be seen now, but years down the line they’ll see it started during their time in school.
Y/N was in charge of planting the seed, she knew she didn’t always get to see the flower flourish.
This week, Y/N had students invite parents to read the children a book of their choice. Y/N had many parents come, it allowed for the student to show off their parent during this time. It reminded her of when her dad made time out of his busy schedule to come in for her.
Today, Harry was coming in to support his niece as he loved being involved. He was eager too because Harry knew Isabela was in her class. Of course, there was no special treatment but Isabela did get to enjoy lunch with her some days.
Harry got here early, and entered the classroom quietly as to not disturb the class but Y/N noticed him. He took a seat at her back table knowing he’d have to wait until they were home to have all her undivided attention.
“My friends, you’re all doing great. I know math is not our favorite but I appreciate the volunteers that wanted to come up. You can always come to me during for support. ” Y/N knows what it was like to be anxious in class not knowing if it was okay to ask for extra help. She goes over a few math problems, allowing the students to asks questions.
From the back of the room, Harry sees how Y/N manages to make every student feel seen and heard. Not once does she raise her voice to get their attention, the class stays focused on her every word and Harry is in awe. He always knew Y/N was good at her job but seeing it in person was something different.
Y/N had always been a kind soul, he knew that from the moment he met her. Yet in the classroom it seemed as if she only became more open, softer he’d like to say.
People go in look of their true calling, some find it in dancing or art sometimes never at all but he can say that Y/N found her gift in people. More specifically students. She was helping our future genteration grow and that is something he will always be proud of. Harry decides to text her to share all the joy he’s feeling seeing Y/N flutter around teaching her students.
Harry
You are so pretty.
Your room feels safe and comforting.
You are amazing. I’m in awe of you.
I love you.
Harry knows she won’t see it until lunch time and he’s okay with that for now he’ll remain admiring his girlfriend.
“Now, I’ve got a special guest here today,” Y/N gestures to Harry to stand and make his way next to her. He does so while giving Isabela a small wave. “This is Mr. Styles.”
“Hi Mr. Styles,” the class greets in unison.
“Hello, thank you for welcoming me into your class. I’m Isabela’s uncle.”
Isabela cheers, rushing over to give her uncle a hug after Y/N gives her the okay. “Now friends, let’s remember to be respectful to Mr. Styles. While he gets settled in, why don’t we sit criss cross applesauce on the carpet.”
The children begin to file in, careful not to push each other making sure they sit next to their friends. While Harry reads the title of the bookY/N walks over to her desk. She checks the time on her phone when she catches a glimpse of Harry’s text. Y/N turns her head to see if he’s watching her but finds him deep into the story, using a new voice for each character. The students are hanging on to his every word. Y/N knew Harry was happy to be here to support her. She felt the outpouring of his love from the moment he walked in.
Yeah, Y/N was lucky to have him.
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this was the inspiration behind the story
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles au#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fluff#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic rec#harry styles one shot
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Sky High.
(pilot!harry x airhostess!yn)
masterlist || ask me anything <3
my blurb masterlist is here x
in which, your an airhostess for british airways, and harry’s been a pilot for british airways for the last four years, and your both working on the same a380 to the big apple.
word count - 2.8k
"So, which lucky city are you off to today?"
Cabin crew had always been a passion of yours since you were a child.
When you were young, you used to adore gazing at the impeccably dressed flight attendants as they moved gracefully through the aisles of the plane. That longing to be among them, to embody the essence of professionalism and hospitality, never wavered, even as you grew older.
So when you turned eighteen, and were fresh out of college, you signed up for flight attendant school and not once have you looked back.
The course took ten weeks and they were the best of your life, because at the end of it, you gained your wings and was ready to fly.
That was when you met Samia, your bestest friend, the two of you were in the same cabin crew training classes and had practically been inseparable ever since, it was a friendship that was made to last.
You and Samia make your way through the bustling terminal of Manchester Airport, where families were executed to finally have a nice holiday that they had waited all year for and people who were solo-travellers ready to embark on a boring old work trip.
With a grin, you respond, "New York, simply feels like forever since I’ve been there.”
Samia feigns a dramatic sigh, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ugh, why do you get all the fun flights? I'm just headed to Dublin."
You chuckle at her mock disappointment. "Hey, Dublin's pretty great too!”
She rolls her eyes playfully. "I guess you're right. But next time, I'm definitely snagging that New York flight!"
You nudge her teasingly. "Deal!
As you and Samia continue your leisurely stroll through the bustling terminal of Manchester Airport, she suddenly stops in her tracks, a perplexed expression crossing her face.
"Wait, did you say you're heading to New York?" she asks, a hint of disbelief in her voice.
You nod in confirmation, a smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, I've got a three-day layover there before heading back. Why? What's up?"
Samia's eyes light up mischievously as she leans in closer. "You know who the pilot is, right?"
You shake your head, curious about her sudden intrigue. "No, who is it?"
With a smug look on her face, Samia leans back, relishing the moment before dropping the bombshell.
"Captain Styles," she says, her voice laced with amusement.
Just like that, your eyes widen.
The dim lights of the party cast a warm glow over the room as chatter and laughter filled the air. You stood at the bar, holding an almost empty drink, observing the festivities around you. It was a celebration for the graduating pilots and cabin crew, and the excitement was palpable.
Suddenly, a voice broke through the noise, and you turned to see a handsome young man approaching you. His brunette hair had a slight curl to it, and he wore an open t-shirt with only the bottom buttons done up, showcasing his tattoos along his chest and right arm. He flashed you a charming smile that set your heart racing.
"Hey," he said, his voice smooth and confident. "M’Harry. Can I get you another drink?"
His flirty demeanor caught you off guard, but you couldn't help but be intrigued by his confidence and his striking appearance.
With a smile, you accepted his offer. "Sure, that would be great. Thanks."
As he ordered the drinks, Harry leaned in closer, his playful banter making your heart flutter. "So, what brings you to this party? Celebrating y’graduation as well?"
You nodded, feeling a rush of excitement at his attention. "Yeah, I just finished my cabin crew training. It's been quite the journey."
Harry nodded, his gaze lingering on you. "Well, congratulations. Y’must be excited to start flying high."
You chuckled at his pun, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his flirtatious remarks. "Thanks. And what about you? Are you one of the graduating pilots?"
He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Guilty as charged. But tonight, M’more interested in getting to know you."
As the night wore on, the energy of the party only seemed to intensify, fueled by the pulsating rhythm of the music and the electric chemistry between you and Harry.
With each exchange, the attraction between you grew stronger, igniting a fiery passion that neither of you could ignore.
Before you knew it, the party had come to an end, and Harry suggested continuing the festivities at his place. Eager for more time together, you eagerly agreed, your heart racing with anticipation as you made your way to his doorstep.
As Harry fumbled with his keys, his lips found yours in a heated kiss, igniting a firestorm of desire that burned hotter with each passing second. The world around you faded away as you lost yourself in the intoxicating embrace, the hunger for each other driving you forward.
Finally, the door swung open, and Harry pulled you inside, the heat between you reaching a fever pitch. With a sense of urgency, you stumbled into his apartment, the desire to be close to him consuming every fiber of your being.
And as the door closed behind you, the outside world ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you entwined in a passionate embrace, lost in a whirlwind of desire and longing.
As you approach your gate, you come to a halt, a wave of anticipation washing over you. Turning to Samia, you give her a final hug, the warmth of her embrace a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.
"I'll see you soon," you say, your voice tinged with both longing and determination.
Samia returns the hug with equal fervor, her support unwavering.
"Text me when you land, just so i know that you got there safely." she tells you you, her words a comforting reminder of your shared journey and the strength you draw from each other.
"Take care up there, and don't forget to enjoy New York," she says, her voice tinged with a hint of excitement. “You deserve it.”
During the embrace, your gaze drifts past Samia, and that's when you spot him. Captain Styles, striding confidently towards the gate, his navy blue pilot uniform impeccable, a pair of sunglasses shielding his eyes from the fluorescent airport lights.
The women around him stare in awe, admiration evident in their eyes as they admire his striking looks and commanding presence.
As Captain Styles catches your eye amidst the throng of admirers, a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, sending a shiver down your spine.
You swallow harshly, feeling a sudden rush of nerves at his knowing gaze, his presence commanding attention even in the midst of the bustling airport terminal.
As you bid farewell to Samia and take a step towards the bridge leading to the plane, your heart pounds with a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation.
Captain Styles stands nearby, engrossed in conversation with the gate control personnel, his commanding presence unmistakable even from a distance.
As you approach the bridge, you catch Captain Styles' eye, and he immediately breaks off his conversation, his gaze fixed on you as he strides towards you with purpose.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't m’favorite cabin crew member," he says with a playful grin, his tone laced with flirtation.
You can't help but return his smile, the familiar spark between you reigniting with each step closer.
Ever since that night you spent together four years ago, the two of you have sort of started an arrangement, when one of you needs the other your there and vice versa.
But your feelings grew above just meaningless hookups.
His as far as you were concerned didn’t.
"Captain Styles, always a pleasure," you reply, your voice tinged with a hint of amusement.
He falls into step beside you, his presence magnetic as he matches your stride.
"So, headed to the Big Apple, are we?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
You nod, a surge of excitement coursing through you at the prospect of flying to New York with Captain Styles as your pilot.
"Yep, three days of layover in the city that never sleeps," you say, unable to contain your enthusiasm.
Captain Styles chuckles, his charm on full display as he leans in closer, his voice low and intimate.
"Well, if you need a tour guide while you're there, y’know where t’find me," he says with a wink, his flirtatious demeanor sending a thrill down your spine.
You play along, matching his flirtatious energy with a playful smirk of your own.
"I might just take you up on that offer," you tease, the familiarity between you sparking with every word exchanged.
As you reach the entrance to the bridge, Captain Styles stops, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of intensity and longing.
"Until we meet again, m’cloud member," he says, his voice husky with promise.
You meet his gaze, the unspoken understanding between you hanging heavy in the air.
"Until next time," you reply, your heart racing with anticipation as you step onto the bridge and make your way towards the plane.
Standing at the entrance of the plane, you greet passengers with a warm smile as they board, checking their tickets with practiced efficiency.
Beside you stands Suzie, a petite blonde cabin crew member from France, her cheerful demeanor adding to the welcoming atmosphere of the aircraft.
"Bonjour! Welcome aboard," Suzie chirps in her melodious French accent, her eyes sparkling with genuine hospitality as she assists passengers with their carry-on luggage.
You nod in agreement, echoing her sentiments with a friendly greeting of your own.
"Welcome aboard, ladies and gentlemen. If you could please have your tickets ready, we'll get you settled in no time," you say, your voice projecting confidence and professionalism.
As passengers file past, you and Suzie work in tandem, ensuring a smooth and efficient boarding process. You exchange glances and quick smiles as you assist travelers with finding their seats and stowing their belongings in the overhead compartments.
"Next please," you say, gesturing for the next passenger to approach, your attention fully focused on providing top-notch service to everyone boarding the aircraft.
Suzie chimes in, her cheerful demeanor infectious as she assists an elderly couple with finding their seats.
"Right this way, monsieur et madame. Allow me to help you with your bags," she says, her gentle touch earning her grateful smiles from the passengers.
As the last few passengers board the plane, you and Suzie share a brief moment of camaraderie, a silent acknowledgment of a job well done.
As the final passengers settle into their seats and fasten their seatbelts, you and the rest of the cabin crew begin to make your way down the aisle, ensuring that everyone is safely secured for takeoff. With practiced ease, you exchange reassuring smiles and nods with passengers as you pass, checking seatbelts and offering assistance where needed.
Once you confirm that all passengers are securely strapped in, you make your way to the front of the cabin, ready to perform the mandatory safety demonstration. Standing in the aisle, you and the other cabin crew members demonstrate the proper use of seatbelts, oxygen masks, and life vests, your movements fluid and precise as you emphasize the importance of safety during the flight.
As the plane taxis towards the runway, you continue the safety demonstration, pointing out the locations of emergency exits and demonstrating the brace position in case of an emergency landing. Your voice is calm and reassuring, your demeanor projecting confidence and competence to the passengers seated before you.
Three hours into the flight, you find yourself in the crew mess area, diligently preparing warm nuts for the passengers as part of the in-flight service. The gentle hum of the aircraft fills the air, a comforting backdrop to the routine tasks at hand.
Suddenly, the sound of the call button interrupts the steady rhythm, prompting you to glance up from your task.
With a quick exchange of glances with your fellow cabin crew members, you make your way towards the source of the signal, ready to assist the passenger in need.
Approaching the row where the call button was activated, you find a mother and her little girl, the child looking pale and visibly uncomfortable.
Concern washes over you as you inquire, "Is everything okay? How can I assist you?"
The mother looks relieved at your arrival, her voice tinged with urgency. "My daughter isn't feeling well. Do you have a sick bag?"
You nod empathetically, understanding the urgency of the situation.
"Of course, let me grab one for you right away," you assure her, before swiftly making your way back to the crew mess to retrieve a sick bag.
Returning to the passenger's row with the sick bag in hand, you offer it to the mother with a sympathetic smile.
"Here you go. I hope this helps. Is there anything else I can do to assist you and your daughter?"
The mother gratefully accepts the sick bag, her expression conveying a mix of relief and gratitude.
"Thank you so much. This should do the trick. We'll let you know if we need anything else," she says, her voice soft with appreciation.
You nod, reassuring her that you're available should they require any further assistance.
Just under four hours into the flight, you find yourself tasked with delivering the pre-ordered meals to the cockpit crew. Carrying a tray with their dinner selections, you make your way to the front of the aircraft, where the cockpit door awaits.
Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you knock lightly on the door before pushing it open, revealing the familiar sight of Captain Harry and First Officer Max at the controls.
"Dinner delivery," you announce with a smile, stepping into the cockpit.
Harry looks up from the control panel, his eyes lighting up as he sees you. "Ah, if it isn’t the queen of the clouds herself," he says, his tone playful yet subtly flirtatious.
Suppressing a smile, you approach him with the tray, presenting him with his sushi and a glass of apple juice.
"Here you go, Captain Styles. Enjoy your meal," you say, your voice steady despite the flutter of excitement in your chest.
You bend down in front of the captain, knowing that it will simply drive him crazy, and because we’ll….your a little tease, your skirt isn’t that short, because it’s not aloud to be but it certainly does the trick, because you softly hear him take a small intake of breath which has you trying to surpress your smile.
You then stand back to a normal height and give the first officer his choice of food for the night.
Max looks up from his own console, offering you a polite nod of acknowledgment.
"Thank you," he says, his tone professional as he accepts his lasagna and a glass of milk.
You return his nod with a polite smile, acknowledging his presence before turning your attention back to Harry.
"Is there anything else I can assist you with, Captain?" you inquire, trying to keep the conversation light and professional despite the underlying tension between you.
Harry's gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"I don’t think there is no." he replies, his tone teasing yet filled with underlying sincerity.
As you turn to leave the cockpit, you catch Harry's gaze and offer a sheepish smile.
"I should probably go wash my hands," you say, feeling a sudden need to break the tension in the air.
Harry chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
"Of course, can't have our cabin crew getting their hands dirty," he teases, his tone light yet tinged with a hint of flirtation.
You laugh along with him, grateful for the playful banter that eases the atmosphere.
"Exactly," you reply, eager to retreat from the intimate confines of the cockpit before things become too heated.
You make your way towards the bathroom as you had initially intended. Pushing open the door, you step inside, grateful for the momentary solitude the confined space offers.
Turning on the tap, you let the water flow over your hands, the cool sensation refreshing as you lather them with soap. With practiced efficiency, you scrub your hands clean, ensuring every trace of dirt and germs is washed away.
Once satisfied with the cleanliness of your hands, you rinse off the soap and reach for a paper towel to dry them.
As you pat your hands dry, you take a moment to glance at your reflection in the mirror, adjusting your uniform and smoothing down any stray hairs that may have escaped your notice.
As you are preparing to leave the bathroom, the sound of the door opening behind you catches your attention, causing a slight flutter of nerves to rise in your stomach.
Without turning around, you sense someone entering the small space, their presence filling the air with an unspoken tension.
Gulping nervously, you finally muster the courage to turn and make eye contact with the newcomer.
The sight of the familiar uniform and the commanding aura that surrounds them leaves you momentarily speechless, your heart pounding in your chest.
You swallow heavily.
“Hello, Captain.”
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