#harry styles fic rec
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the game [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]
synopsis: y/n's desperate to play tennis and who better to coach her than her rival
word count: 6.7k
contains: enemies to lovers, set at a boarding school, jealous h, slow burn, angst, tennis rivals
a/n: this is the very first part of a new series that i am soooooo beyond excited to be writing !! it will most likely have 4/5 parts <333 enjoy !!!
. . .
Crestwood Academy was a prestigious boarding school with a mission to cultivate excellence in its students, many of whom went on to achieve great success in their respective fields. Nestled amidst rolling hills and lush greenery, it welcomed only the most accomplished families into its esteemed halls.
Y/N had attended Crestwood Academy since she was five, thanks to her father, who owned a country club and could afford the tuition. Her parents, strict and focused on success, were determined to give her the best education possible so that she could be the very best. Her face was always buried in a book or spending her days in the library, right up until the very last minute of its opening hours.
It was her final year at Crestwood Academy before graduation. Y/N had been set on passing all of her exams at the top of her class so had been working extra hard. She studied English, maths, all three sciences, Latin, French and History as well as tennis.
Y/N's parents had always urged her to pursue a career in the top industries. Despite her efforts to feign interest in that direction, her heart had always belonged to tennis ever since she first took up the sport at Crestwood.
She had competed plenty, winning all the academy trophies and medals. Her parents would visit whenever she competed in finals and congratulated her on winning but saw it as nothing but a hobby to participate in when she wasn’t studying.
However, Y/N couldn’t deny herself the rush of playing knowing she’d have to part with the sport once she graduated. The career path of becoming a doctor was already laid out for her by her parents but she felt destined to follow a different path.
Despite the fact she had applied to dozens of schools to study medicine, she still had one more option that had nothing to do with science at all.
Every year, the academies hosted their own version of a grand slam in which the winning player received a scholarship and three years' worth of training from one of the top tennis academies in the world. Y/N longed to be at the top with the greats and she knew that this competition was the only way she could get there.
For the most part, Y/N had been self-taught. She watched videos online and took notes from the Wimbledon matches she’d see on the television. Crestwood only had one sports coach who focused most of their time on the football team so if she was going to win the scholarship, she needed the very best.
She sat on the bleachers, her book open in front of her, but her attention was drawn to the man on the court. The player’s movements were fluid and powerful, each action deliberate and precise. Yet, it was another man who held her gaze—a figure with an impassive expression, focused solely on his player.
When the match was over, Y/N slammed her book shut and walked towards the court after the players shook hands. Her eyes looked down at the limp in his step as he walked towards the cooler to grab a water bottle.
It had been a while since she had last seen him. She remembered the proud look on his parent’s faces when he was pulled out of Crestwood eighteen months ago and went on to win a grand slam in Australia. She could still feel the intense jealousy that filled her as she watched the match on television whilst studying for her chemistry test that he was also supposed to sit had he stayed.
Now he was here, back to his roots and maybe it had been fate because what she was about to ask him would determine her own path in the tennis career she longed for.
His hair was slightly longer now, his brunette, touseled curls were swept to the side in a loose, dishevelled manner. He wore sunglasses to cover his eyes from the sunlight and a navy tracksuit paired with white vans.
Seeing him brought back the once competitive emotions she had whenever she’d see him strut about the courts every lunchtime but she’d have to suppress those emotions, especially for what she was about to ask him.
“Excuse me, Harry?” Y/N called out.
He took a water bottle from the cooler and flicked off the cap before holding it to his lips and gulping it down. Y/N waited, crossing her arms as she did. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up.” Was the first thing he said.
Y/N didn’t know what to say. It was unexpected to know that he had been waiting to see her, “I didn’t know you were part of the furniture on these courts,” He smirks and Y/N’s jaw ticks. “And you still sit in the exact same spot on those bleachers, to what? Admire me?”
Y/N bristled at Harry's cocky remark, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "Hardly," she retorted, her tone sharp. "I have better things to do than waste my time watching you play."
Harry chuckled, his smirk widening as he leaned against the cooler. "Is that so? Then what brings you here?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. “Come to get an autograph?”
Y/N squared her shoulders, determined not to let his arrogance get under her skin. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something," she replied, her voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach.
Harry raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Oh? And what might that be?" he inquired, his gaze piercing as he studied her intently.
Taking a deep breath, Y/N gathered her courage and suppressed her pride, "I want you to coach me," she blurted out, her words hanging in the air between them.
Harry made no effort to hide the surprise on his face but it quickly melted into a cocky smirk, “You want me to coach you? I thought you hated me?”
“I do,” She replies quickly. She’d hated him ever since he had humiliated her in a battle of the sexes tennis tournament when they were young despite the fact she had little chance of winning against him anyway. “But I don’t have to like you to recognise your talent and right now you're the best and only coach I can get if I’m going to win that scholarship,”
Harry’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Your parents still want you to study medicine?” Something flickered in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t put her finger on.
Y/N wasn’t going to give him an answer even though it was obvious, “This is the only chance I get to escape it,” She mutters, “I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”
He glanced around before taking a step forward. She was tempted to step back at the same time but she didn’t want to seem intimidated by him so stood her ground. From this proximity, she noticed how much taller he was compared to her - almost an entire foot.
“What’s in it for me?” He asked.
Y/N knew he’d ask which was why she spent so much time figuring out what she could tell him to make it worthwhile. “I know about your injury,” She says and he stills.
“Everyone knows about my injury.” He grumbles.
It had been a spectacle in the world of tennis. The new grand slam winner loses out on his second after a fatal injury at the French Open. Y/N remembered seeing him rolling on the ground, holding onto his leg as paramedics ran onto the court to aid him.
“People think you’re a one-hit wonder since you’re out for the season,” His jaw clenched as she spoke, “But if you coach me and get me to win, I guarantee you’ll be out on the court again - back where you belong,”
“You think an academy league game can get my back onto the court?”
“No, but it's a start and maybe I’ll be competing alongside you the next time you’re playing.”
There was a moment of silence as Harry absorbed her words, his gaze searching hers for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, he let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Fine," he relented, his voice tinged with resignation. "You want me to coach you? Prove you’re worth coaching.”
He walked over to the barrel of tennis rackets and picked one up. Y/N narrowed her eyes, remembering the last time they had played against each other and how embarrassed she was afterwards.
“But you’re-”
“One game won’t hurt,” He said before she could finish.
She followed, her steps purposeful as she reached for a racket, flipping it over in her hands as she strode to the other end of the court. Despite being clad in her school uniform—a pleated skirt, white shirt with the school crest, and loafers that threatened to slide off her feet—she was determined to prove herself. She'd show him she was worth his time, that she was a far better tennis player than he gave her credit for.
As they took their positions on opposite ends of the court, the tension between them crackled in the air. Y/N gripped her racket tightly, her focus sharp as she prepared to face off against Harry once again.
The first serve sliced through the air, the sound echoing as the ball hurtled towards Y/N. She moved with fluidly, her muscles tensing as she returned the serve.
Harry's response was swift, his movements confident as he returned the ball with a well-placed shot that left Y/N scrambling to keep up. Even with his injury, he still held the precision of a professional. But she refused to back down, her determination driving her to match him shot for shot, rally after rally.
The game intensified as they traded blows, each point reflecting their skills and determination. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she fought to keep pace with Harry, her mind focused solely on the ball. Both Y/N and Harry vocally exerted their energy through grunts and cries as they hit the ball with all their energy.
Despite her efforts, Harry seemed to anticipate her every move. But Y/N refused to be outdone, drawing on every ounce of strength and skill as she fought to gain the upper hand.
As the game progressed, Harry's skill and experience began to overthrow her. His shots were close to perfect and strategic, leaving Y/N struggling to keep up. Despite her determination, she found herself falling behind as Harry continued to dominate the match.
In the end, it was Harry who emerged victorious, his final shot landing just beyond Y/N's reach with a satisfying thud. As the ball bounced out of the court, Y/N knew that she had been outplayed.
She rested her hands on her knees, hunched over as she tried to regain her breath. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d lost despite the fact she was at a disadvantage anyway.
Harry’s shadow fell over her but she refused to look up just yet. He spoke anyway, “You’ve gotten better since the last time I saw you,” He spoke, holding a cold water bottle in front of her face.
She took it, the plastic crackling under her fingers, “You can just say you’re not going to do it,” She mumbled, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of water.
“I’ll coach you,” He says, “Meet me here at 6 pm tomorrow.”
Y/N finally looked up, her mouth parted, only to find his back facing her as he walked away from the courts.
. . .
Harry had no idea what he had agreed to in coaching Y/N at tennis.
He sat in his luxurious apartment ten minutes away from Crestwood Academy, surrounded by furniture wrapped in plastic or still in cardboard boxes.
He sat on the couch with his feet resting on the coffee table in front of him and a glass of whiskey in his hand. The TV was playing quietly in front of him but his mind was on the girl he had spent the majority of his life competing with.
She had grown since the last time he had seen her before he graduated and left the country to compete in the Australian Open. Her long, tanned legs were on show beneath the grey school skirt she had been wearing. He couldn’t seem to get the image of the visible muscles in her calves out of his mind as she moved across the court to hit the ball during their impromptu tennis match.
Despite their personal differences, Harry couldn't resist her. There was an undeniable thrill in riling her up, in watching her reactions to the smallest digs. They had once been friends, back when Y/N would trail after him on the playground, eager to understand how to hit a ball with a tennis racket. But as she began competing in school competitions, she quickly learned that beating him was an impossible feat.
He wasn’t surprised to see her watching him on the court today, in fact, it amused him. Whether she liked it or not, he would always look out in the bleachers for her whenever he’d play during his time at the academy. Her reactions were what kept him going, some might even say made him better.
But, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was surprised to see her so brazenly asking him to coach her. He could tell by her reaction that it was killing her inside, to be coached by him when all she’d done was pick apart his technique, but it was clear she was desperate and Harry knew it was because of her parents.
Harry had had his fair dose of strict parentage. When he was told he could no longer play tennis for the season, his parents shipped him straight back to Crestwood to finish his final year since he never actually graduated.
He loathed them for it, barely saying a word to them as they paid the rent in cash for his apartment and left him with boxes to unpack on his own. He knew they were disappointed in him despite the fact the injury was no fault of his own, they could barely look at him as they left, closing the door behind them.
It was embarrassing. How could he have gone from being at the top of his game to the very bottom? Now he was back in the place he had turned his back on, feeling like he was back to square one all over again.
Harry’s thoughts were broken by the sound of his phone ringing. The name of his best friend since he was born lit up the screen.
“What?” Harry answered the call, his train of thought forming a particular level of intolerance in him.
“Hey, is that any way to talk to your best friend?” Mitch replied along with the sound of loud chattering in the background because he always had to be somewhere with someone.
“Sorry,” Harry huffed, “Long day.”
“Already? You’ve not even started classes yet,” Mitch chuckled.
“Don’t remind me,” Harry hadn’t even begun thinking about being back in classrooms and having to put up with kids his age berating him with questions he didn’t want to answer. Tomorrow would be his first day back and he was dreading it.
“C’mon now, don’t be too glum about it, haven’t you missed me?”
“No,” Harry lied.
“I know you well enough now to know when you’re lying.” Mitch laughed down the phone.
A hint of a smile grazed Harry’s lips, "Whatever," he replied, his tone gruff but lacking conviction. Despite his attempt to feign disinterest, a part of him couldn't deny the truth in Mitch's words. There had been many moments he had experienced after leaving school when he missed the company of people his own age. Everyone around him was older than he was and spoke to him as though he was some prized trophy that needed to be handled with caution. He’d spend evenings by the pool by himself, watching the sunset and wishing his friends were there to celebrate his win with him.
"I'll take that as a yes," Mitch teased, “I know the boys will be happy to have y’ back and I can introduce you to Sarah. I think Molly Brown still has a thing for you as well by the way, talks about you all the fuckin’ time.” Harry listened to his friend ramble about all the things he had missed in the last year or so but his mind seemed to travel elsewhere.
His eyes wandered around the room, his ear still pressed to his phone, until they landed on an open box with a picture frame resting on top. He recognized the photo immediately, even without picking it up, because he had kept it hidden in his old dorm desk. In the picture, a group of eight students—four boys and four girls—smiled at the camera, with Harry standing at the back and Y/N right beside him.
. . .
Y/N slammed the door of her locker shut after pulling out her workbooks for her next class. Students bustled down the hallways of Crestwood Academy, wearing their navy blazers and uniform for another week of school.
“Have you seen him yet?” Sarah, Y/N’s best friend, came out of nowhere and stood in front of her.
“Seen who?” Y/N remained indifferent even though she knew who Sarah was referring to.
Everyone had been talking about Harry since she had walked into school from her dorm room this morning. It was the main topic of conversation, everyone’s eyes darting around the hallways to try and find him.
“You know,” Sarah nudged her, “The boy you’ve spent most of your life in a one-sided rivalry with?”
“One-sided? It’s a mutual hatred,” Y/N argued.
Sarah gave her a look before continuing, “I texted Mitch twenty minutes ago but he hasn’t replied. I know I’ve met Harry before but this is the first time I’ll be meeting him as Mitch’s girlfriend and I don’t want it to change anything.”
Y/N’s eyes softened, “Sarah, just because he’s the winner of a grand slam doesn’t make his opinion of you any more important. Whether Harry likes you or not, everyone knows you and Mitch are perfect for each other.”
Y/N remembered the first time her friend had told her she was seeing Mitch. He had taken her out to dinner a few times and Sarah had come back to their shared dorm swooning and unable to stop herself from rambling the rest of the night about how romantic and funny he was.
Y/N had never experienced anything like that in her life, too busy focusing on tennis and academia to find herself in relationships, but she was happy her best friend was happy and that was all that mattered to her.
“I know but he’s important to Mitch. They’ve been best friends since infants and… that’s not all I’m worried about,” Sarah looked at Y/N pointedly.
“What?”
“Now that Mitch and I are together, that means we’ll be spending more time around each other which also means…” Sarah didn’t have to finish her sentence for Y/N to understand what she was trying to get at.
“Oh n-no! No way! Sarah, are you being serious right now?” Y/N whined, “You want me to get along with Harry just because you’re dating his best friend?”
“You don’t have to but it would be nice if you did,” Her voice trailed off at the end, her eyes looking at her pleadingly, “I’m not asking you to be best friends, I’m just asking you not to chew his head off when we’re all in the same room together.”
Y/N wanted to argue and tell her she wouldn’t be able to chew his head off anyway because she needed him to coach her for the scholarship but an arm slid around Sarah’s waist and interrupted their conversation.
Sarah grinned, turning to look up at her boyfriend who was now standing beside her, “Hey babe,” Mitch smiled.
“You’re here,” Sarah craned her neck to kiss his lips, “I texted you forever ago and you never replied.
Mitch scoffed, “It was twenty minutes ago and I didn’t have time to check my phone, too busy dragging this one through the front gates.”
Out of the corner of Y/N's eye, another figure appeared. She didn’t have to look to see who it was, the sudden surge of annoyance within her already gave them away. Her head tilted to the left to look up and see Harry.
He was wearing his school uniform, the same way he always did before he left for Australia. His shirt was untucked, and the top button was undone revealing a gold chain and a white vest underneath, his grey trousers were ironed with not a crinkle in sight and his navy blazer hung casually behind him, hooked by his middle finger.
Y/N’s eyes shifted behind him to find people whispering to each other and groups of girls giggling as they walked past. It was nothing new to see girls getting riled up over him but it had become more intensified now that he had gone abroad and made a name for himself. Despite his injury preventing him from playing, Y/N was certain that even if Harry had lost every game and embarrassed himself on live television, people would still adore him.
“Hey Harry,” Sarah offered a kind smile.
“Hi Sarah, nice to see you again. Glad to know Mitch was in good hands whilst I was away,” Harry clapped his friend on the shoulder before turning to Y/N.
“Only the very best,” Mitch pulled Sarah into his side before motioning to Y/N, “You remember Sarah’s best friend Y/N right?”
“Hmmm, aren’t you the one who lost the Junior tennis competition to me a few years ago?” Harry smirked.
Y/N's jaw clenched, but she managed to force a smile. "I could be, but aren’t you the one who they recorded rolling around on the floor like a big baby at the French Open last year?" Her retort was sharp, aimed directly at Harry.
Harry's eyes narrowed in response, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. Y/N felt a sense of satisfaction at having gotten such a reaction from him. "Welcome back to Crestwood," she added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Mitch and Sarah exchanged weary glances, sensing the tension between Y/N and Harry.
"Quite a welcome. I’ve already been asked to coach someone and I’ve only been back a week," Harry remarked, his gaze still fixed on Y/N, who met his stare with a glare of her own.
"You have?" Mitch frowned, his confusion evident.
"Who?" Sarah asked, equally perplexed.
Harry's eyes remained locked on Y/N, giving them their answer. "You asked him to coach you?" Sarah questioned her confusion mirroring Mitch's.
Y/N shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, "Yeah, I did," she admitted reluctantly, her gaze flickering briefly to Harry before returning to Mitch and Sarah.
"Why would you ask him to coach you?" Sarah asked, her brow furrowing in confusion, “You argue all the time,”
Y/N hesitated, “I need to win the scholarship to the tennis academy in London and Harry’s the only person here who knows how to play the game.”
“Glad to know I was the pick of the bunch,” Harry’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“I thought you were applying to go to UCL?” Sarah frowned.
“I was but you know how much the game means to me and my parents refuse to believe it’s more than just a hobby. This is the only chance I’ll get to prove them wrong and the only option to get me out of studying medicine.” Y/N explained.
Sarah’s eyes softened, she too was no stranger to how strict Y/N’s parents could be. “Which is why she needs me,” Y/N felt the weight of his arm rest across her shoulders, “Right, love?”
Y/N spun around to face Harry, eyes sharp, “Don’t call me that,” She hissed, seeing the satisfied grin on his face.
He shrugged, “But I always call you that,”
Ever since they were teenagers, when the rivalry first began, Harry had opted to calling Y/N ‘love’ knowing how much it riled her up. To some, it was a term of endearment but in the world of tennis the word ‘love’ meant one thing.
‘Nil, ‘Zero’, ‘Loser’.
Y/N hated the way he spoke it too - accentuating each letter of the word to drag it out for as long as he could just to annoy her further.
She stepped forward, “Call me that one more time,” She threatened.
“Or what?” He tilted his head to the side.
“Guys seriously, break it up,” Sarah intervened, “Aren’t you supposed to be getting along if you’re going to be spending more time together.”
Y/N hated the thought of it but knew she was right. If she wanted Harry to coach her, she couldn’t go around screwing things up by arguing with him. If he was going to coach her at the sport, she’d have to coach herself in controlling her attitude around him.
“C’mon Sarah, let’s go to class,” Y/N hooked arms with her best friend, wanting to get as far away from him as possible.
“Oh okay, bye Mitch.” Sarah kissed her boyfriend before she was dragged down the hallway in a hurry.
Harry watched as Y/N practically sprinted down the hallway with Sarah in tow. He felt the need to call out of her for one last dig just so she would turn around and he’d see her face before she rounded the corner, “See you on the courts, love.” He called down to her.
As he had hoped, Y/N’s head whipped around to glare at him along with her middle finger, “Asshole!” She called back.
Harry chuckled to himself, “That face,” he murmured.
Mitch placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “You’ve got it in for yourself with that one, lad.” Mitch said.
“Tell me about it,” Harry replied, his eyes still on the place he’d last seen Y/N.
Maybe returning to Crestwood wouldn’t be so bad after all.
. . .
With Harry back, Y/N had suspected the day would be a drag with everyone constantly bringing him up in every conversation, but the first half of the day had gone well. Y/N was easily used to her classes by now and was still top of the class in all of them.
During lunch period, Y/N always sat with Sarah in the library where they’d catch up on what they missed out on each other’s lives or study during exam season. It was nice to have some reprieve during the school hours and whenever she was with Sarah, Y/N could talk for hours and hours.
Now that Sarah was dating Mitch, Y/N and Sarah would spend their lunch with his friends in the lunch hall. Y/N didn’t mind it so much having grown used to being around Mitch’s friends despite their loud and boisterous personalities.
However, today she was dreading the fact that now her lunchtimes would also include being around the person she wanted to spend as little amount of time with as possible.
“Can’t we just eat in the library today? Please?” Y/N pulled on the sleeve of her best friend's blazer as she begged her to turn back in the direction of the library. She could already picture Harry’s annoying smirk the closer they got to the entrance of the lunch hall.
“Y/N you’re being dramatic. It’s just an hour, I’m sure you can survive being around him that long.” Sarah continued to tug her down the hallway.
“Sarah I already have to spend enough time as it is,” Now that she asked him to be her coach. The more the day went by the more she was starting to regret her decision.
Sarah spun on her heel, “Think of this as practice then,” Her eyes looked past Y/N’s shoulder, “Look, there they are,” She moved past her and beelined towards their table where Y/N saw Mitch, Jake and Adam already sitting along with that head of brunette curls that Y/N just wanted to tear out every time she saw him.
Sighing, she followed Sarah and approached the table responding to everyone’s friendly greetings until she got to Harry, “You’re in my seat,” She spoke after realising all the seats were taken.
Harry didn’t bother to look around, that stupid grin plastered to his face when he looked up at her, “Am I?”
Y/N gritted her teeth, “Yes,”
“Hmm,” He swivelled around to look at the back of the chair, “I don’t see your name anywhere.”
A wave of chuckles rippled around the table but Y/N had yet to find the amusement in it. “She does always sit there, H.” Mitch chuckles, “Just grab another chair from a different table.”
Harry leant back against the seat and crossed one leg over his thigh, “But I quite like this seat.”
“I’m not moving until you get out of my seat,” Y/N crossed her arms, refusing to give in to him.
“Well you’re going to be stood up for a long time and y’ need those legs for later,” Harry smirked, “Or you could just sit here,” He unfolded his legs and motioned towards his lap, “Still your seat.”
Y/N’s jaw clenched but before she could respond, Adam chuckled and stood up, “Here,” He picked another chair up from an empty table and set it down next to him, “Y’ can sit here Y/N.”
She was tempted to refuse and continue to nag Harry for the rest of lunch but decided against it, not wanting to waste her energy on him. Her eyes softened at Adam’s kindness, “Thanks, Adam.” She sat beside him.
Harry’s smirk seemed to falter when Y/N sat down, watching as Adam looked at Y/N even as she turned to face the others.
“Is that Molly Brown looking at y’ again Harry?” Jake, who Y/N considered the loudest one of Mitch’s friends, leant over the table to speak lowly to Harry even though it was impossible for him to ever be so quiet.
Harry forced himself to look away from Adam before he burnt holes into him. “She’s been after him since fifth year,” Mitch chuckled.
“Y’ think you’ll let her have it this year, H?” Jake takes a spoonful of his lunch and swallows it down.
“Have what?” Sarah frowned, confused.
“Nothing you need to know about, babe,” Mitch replies, opening her waterbottle for her after she silently handed it to him.
“I’ve never been interested in Molly,” Harry quickly replies but his ears prick when he hears Y/N laughing quietly with Adam.
“Mind if I take my chances then?” Jake asks, “I’ve always wanted to date a cheerleader,”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Harry shakes him off, “What about you Adam?” He gets the attention from both Y/N and Adam as they look up, “Don’t you have a thing for Molly?”
Adam furrows his brows, “Molly Brown? Maybe in like third year,” He chuckles, “I’m not interested in anyone at the moment.”
Harry wants to laugh in his face, “Y’ sure about that?”
Adam frowns but Y/N quickly interrupts them, “People are allowed to have other interests you know.”
Harry feels that rush of excitement when she speaks run through his body, “Is this a touchy subject for you?”
Y/N scowls, “No, I’m just saying Adam doesn’t need to be interested in girl’s all the time.”
“Well maybe Adam can speak for himself,” Harry quips.
“Lord save me,” Jake mumbles and Sarah laughs.
“Well what about you? Have you managed to sink your fangs into anyone?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N gapes, “I’ve dated plenty of people,”
The image unsettles Harry but he takes the opportunity to tease Y/N further. "Plenty of people, huh?" he echoes.
Y/N's cheeks flush slightly, "I mean... well, not plenty, but a few," she stammers.
But Harry doesn't let up, "Oh, really?" he presses, "Care to share? I'm sure we'd all love to hear about the few men who you’ve tempted."
Y/N shoots him a glare, knowing full well that Harry was onto her. "I... uh, well," she stumbles over her words, searching for a way to change the subject.
But before she can respond, Adam jumps in. "Come on, Harry, give her a break," he glowers.
“Yeah, Y/N’s just waiting for the right guy and there’s nothing wrong with that,” Sarah pipes in, always one to have her best friend’s back.
Harry raises an eyebrow, his gaze flickering between Y/N and Adam before settling on Y/N, who shifts uncomfortably. Sensing the tension, Mitch swiftly changes the subject to something else.
. . .
After lunch, Y/N made her way to her next class with Adam walking alongside her. Out of all of Mitch’s friends, she got on the most with Adam to the point where Sarah was constantly pestering her over considering a date with him but Y/N didn’t see him as any more than a good friend. He was quiet and kept to himself for the most part, excelling in the arts and playing bass guitar in a band on weekends. Y/N enjoyed the calmness he brought to the group especially with the others being so loud all the time.
“What do you think?” Adam asked, holding the strap of his backpack in one hand as it hung over his right shoulder.
“What do I think about what?” Y/N frowned.
“You know, Harry being back. I know you two didn’t always get along,” He explained.
Y/N scoffed, “If it weren’t for the fact he’s coaching me for the Academy Slam, I would be praying to whatever God that’d listen to send him back to Australia,” Which was also the furthest possible country he could be away from her.
Adam chuckled, “He told us earlier he’d be coaching you,”
Y/N scowled, “I bet he couldn’t get enough of it,”
“Actually he seemed pretty happy about it. We haven’t seen him that happy since he got back from Australia.”
“Really? Maybe that injury did something to his head,”
“What makes you hate him so much anyway?” Adam asked.
Y/N sighed. It was a question she heard often but never had a solid answer for. She couldn't quite explain why she disliked Harry so much. Maybe it was because he had things she wanted, and jealousy often turned into hatred. But there was something more, something she couldn't quite pin down.
Despite her dislike, Y/N went to all of Harry's matches, and she watched them on TV too. Even when she tried to stay in her room, her legs seemed to move on their own, taking her to the courts to watch him play. She hated that part of her rooted for him, and she couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because Harry had been the first person to teach her how to play and she felt some sense of loyalty to that but she had no perfect answer even though she wished for one.
“His face annoys me,” Y/N says.
“That’s it?” Adam snickers.
“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “We’ve always had this rivalry that stemmed out of nowhere but I can’t even remember how it started.”
“You don’t have feelings for him do you?” The question came out of nowhere and took Y/N completely off-guard.
"What? No!" Y/N's response came out a little too quickly, and she hoped her cheeks hadn't betrayed her by turning red.
Adam shrugged. "Just making sure," he said casually. "You know, some people get them mixed up—love and hate."
Y/N furrowed her brow, genuinely puzzled. "How is that even possible?"
"Well, they're both intense emotions, aren't they?" He mused. "And sometimes, when you feel strongly about someone, whether it's love or hate, it can blur the lines between the two."
Y/N pondered his words, a sense of unease settling in her stomach, "No way," she replied firmly, shaking her head. "I may not like him, but there's definitely no love there."
Adam chuckled, sensing her defensiveness. "Alright, that’s good," he said with a grin.
Y/N felt a hint of a smile on her lips, “What does that mean? That’s good?”
Adam shrugged, still smiling, “Jus’ saying,” He spoke and Y/N laughed.
Her gaze flicked from Adam's to Harry, who stood in the hallway with Molly Brown, her brunette waves tied up in the perfect, slicked back ponytail. Hoping to slip by unnoticed, she quickened her pace, but it was too late. Harry's eyes locked onto hers, then shifted to Adam. She caught the subtle twitch of his jaw before he pushed off the wall, ignoring Molly, and strode toward them.
Adam must not have noticed Harry coming towards them because he quickly bid goodbye so he could rush to his literature class. Y/N picked up her pace but Harry was already by her side, “Do you like him?” Harry asked.
“Who Adam? Well let’s see, he’s nice and smart and doesn’t feel the need to open his mouth every five seconds unlike some people I know, so yeah I do like him.”
Harry scoffed, “He’s a little boring don’t you think?”
Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry's comment, a retort already forming on her lips. "Nice of you to say that about your own best friend," she quipped. "Makes me wonder what you say about me."
Before she could say anything more, she gasped in surprise as Harry tugged on her hand and swiftly spun her around until her back was against the row of lockers. Her heart raced as he stepped forward, blocking her in, and dipped his head closer to hers.
"I think we need some ground rules for this whole coaching thing," Harry murmured, his voice low. "If you're planning on winning, I recommend using your time more wisely instead of wasting it on nice boys."
Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she processed his words. "Is that a rule or are you asking me not to date anyone?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Both," Harry replied, his tone unwavering.
Her mind raced, unsure how to respond, "What about you then?" she countered.
"Is that a personal request?" Harry's smirk widened, his gaze locking onto hers. "Because I'm the coach, and I set the ground rules so anything you ask me to do is because you want me to do it."
Y/N's heart pounded louder in her ears as Harry's proximity sent heat coursing through her, "It's only fair," she replied, her voice barely audible.
Harry chuckled softly. "Fine, if it makes you happy. But I’m not interested in dating nice girls or boys anyway," he remarked with a smirk.
Y/N swallowed, her curiosity piqued. "What are you interested in?"
He smirked, "The game," he replied cryptically.
With that, he moved away from her, his eyes lingering on her lips for a moment before he turned and walked down the hallway, “See you tonight, love.” He called back.
As the sound of his footsteps faded, Y/N stood there, stunned and unable to move. She was grateful that no one had witnessed the exchange as she pulled out her compact, trying to compose herself and hide the flush of embarrassment that coloured her cheeks.
As she hurried to class, already five minutes late, Y/N couldn't shake the intensity of her encounter with Harry. Sitting by the window, her mind wandered as the teacher lectured the class, her gaze drifting to the courts outside where she'd soon be training with him this evening.
This coach-student dynamic had unlocked a new territory between them, something unpredictable that Y/N had no choice but to delve into for the months ahead.
Yet, it was her only choice. Harry was the only way she could win and she’d push through whatever feelings she had to get what she wanted.
She’d play the game, just as he wanted her to.
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rain-kissed* (footballer!harry x
nerd!y/n)
summary: y/n and harry, former rivals turned reluctant partners, find unexpected chemistry. heated glances, playful banter ignite a spark. a near-tragedy makes y/n confront feelings, and...will they be reciprocated? ft. lots of mutual pining
words: 6.1k
warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of a major injury, cursing, kissing, hints of smut, mutual pining.
Y/N groaned as she walked into the lecture hall for her literature class. "Are you kidding me?"
There in the very front row sat Harry Styles - captain of the football team, president of one of the biggest frats on campus, and certified douchebag extraordinaire. His feet were obnoxiously propped up on the desk in front of him as he laughed loudly with his friends.
"This class is gonna be a nightmare," Y/N muttered, taking a seat as far away from Harry's circle as possible. She couldn't stand arrogant jocks like him.
Class started and the professor cleared her throat loudly, shooting Harry a pointed look until he dropped his feet to the floor with an eye roll. "Alright, since this is an upper-level lit course, we're going to kick things off with a big group project."
A collective groan went through the class. Group projects were the worst, especially when half the group didn't pull their weight. Harry raised his hand lazily.
"What's the project, Millers?"
The prof narrowed her eyes at Harry's casual address but proceeded. "You'll be analyzing the themes and formatting an anthology of poems, plays, and short stories from a particular era or movement. I'll be assigning the groups and topics."
Y/N mentally prepared herself to get stuck doing all the work as usual for her group when Millers started listing off the pairings.
"Styles and Y/L/N - you'll be covering the Romantic period."
Y/N's head whipped up in horror as Harry scoffed loudly. Of course they'd get partnered up. This was quite literally her worst nightmare.
"Fucking kill me," Harry grumbled, slumping back in his seat rudely.
"I'd rather work alone," Y/N couldn't stop herself from retorting. Immediately, Millers zeroed in on her with a stern look.
"I don't recall there being a choice, Ms. Y/L/N. Unless either of you plans to drop this course, I suggest you learn to work together effectively."
Gritting her teeth, Y/N forced out a tight, "Yes, Professor."
Harry was already texting rapidly on his phone, not paying any attention. This project was going to be utter hell.
The rest of the semester only proved Y/N right about what a nightmare it would be to work with Harry. Their first meeting to divide up the work went about as well as could be expected - which is to say it was a total disaster.
"Look, I don't have a bunch of time for this bullshit poetry stuff," Harry kicked back in a creaky chair, looking entirely too at home in the empty classroom they'd claimed for their work session. "How about you just do the whole thing and I'll, like, proofread it at the end or whatever?"
Y/N stared at him incredulously. "Absolutely not! This is a hugely weighted project, Styles. I'm not doing all the work myself."
He shrugged impatiently. "Why not? You seem like a big ol' nerd who'd be into this."
Biting back a retort, Y/N forced herself to remain calm and reasonable. If he was going to act like a damn child,she had to be the adult in the relationship–or whatever this was.
"Forget it. We're going to split everything 50/50 whether you like it or not. I'll take the poetry analysis and you can have the plays. We'll swap sections to proofread before compiling the final thing."
Harry made a face like she'd asked him to perform surgery. "Do I have to? Plays are so boring."
"Don't care," Y/N said flatly. "You're pulling your weight on this one way or another."
With a melodramatic huff, Harry finally agreed and they were able to separate the reading materials and due dates before parting ways, both dreading the long weeks ahead.
Except...after trading several heated email chains and a couple disastrous coffee shop meetups, something shifted. Maybe it was the punctuality that struck after virtually living in the library for a week straight. Maybe it was how they both surprised each other by not being complete idiots about the subject matter. But at some point, the bickering and resentful silences turned to a bearable truce and even - dare Y/N think it - a hint of reluctant respect between them.
Y/N had assumed Harry was just another brainless party bro who skated by on his looks and family money. But to her surprise, he actually had intelligent insights into the Romantic poets and playwrights - even if he still whined about having to read "this dramalogy crap."
And Harry, who had fully expected Y/N to be an uptight, pretentious book nerd, found himself caught off guard by her whip-smart analysis...and her unexpected sarcastic quips that had him stifling laughs more than once during their study sessions. He called her nerd instead of her usual name, but was now slipping back to using Y/n more often.
"Oh my god, you did not just say that about Lord Byron!" Harry snickered as Y/N made another scalding comment about the poet's arrogant womanizing.
"What? The man was an infamous manwhore by all accounts," Y/N shrugged unapologetically. "Self-important dickhead thought his brooding and philandering made him a genius."
Harry gasped in mock offense. "How very unromantic of you, love! Have you no poetic soul?"
Without missing a beat, Y/N deadpanned, "I prefer to admire poets who didn't give the clap to half of London."
The startled laugh that burst from Harry's lips was so warm and uninhibited that Y/N felt an unexpected little flip in her stomach at the sight. Whoa, what was that?
Shaking it off, she hid her face behind her book again, tamping down an oddly giddy–sort of feeling. Just because she'd managed to find Harry slightly less insufferable lately didn't mean anything.
And so it went, their bickering gradually becoming more lighthearted and playful rather than biting. The weeks ticked by as they somehow formed an unlikely...friendship? Bros? Sure, they'd go with that for simplicity's sake.
At some point, they started expanding their hangouts beyond just study sessions too. Grabbing food after class turned into actually sitting together, Harry regaling Y/N with stories from his frat's latest shenanigans as she pretended not to be entertained.
On the rare nights Y/N wasn't holed up writing papers, she started joining Harry and his boys at their favorite dive bar, quickly becoming the calm voice of reason trying in vain to talk them out of their next boneheaded plan.
"Come on, PlainJane! Live a little!" Harry teased, throwing an arm around her shoulders at the bar.
The rowdy group cackled at Harry's horrible attempt at a literary-themed nickname for Y/N, as per tradition when any new face got absorbed into their friend circle. Personally, Y/N thought it was a lame pun, but she secretly loved how easily she'd slotted into their bizarre fratty family...and maybe especially how Harry always seemed to plaster himself to her side whenever they went out.
The camaraderie and effortless banter flowing between them should've been a huge red flag that something was shifting. But Y/N was quite stubbornly oblivious, as was Harry in his own way.
At least, that was until their big group presentation day rolled around. They'd been prepping and quizzing each other for weeks, reviewing notes and analysis essays till they were cross-eyed. Harry had really stepped up, much to Y/N's surprise, retaining way more than she'd expected about the playwrights and their major works.
The whole lit class was spread out in the lecture hall, with bullet-pointed notecards and thick anthologies ready as the first group took the floor. When it was finally Harry and Y/N's turn, they moved to the front in sync, Harry shooting her a subtle wink as he grabbed the microphone first.
"Buckle up, kids - this is how you do a proper literary presentation," he drawled cockily.
Y/N rolled her eyes on reflex, biting her lip and bumping his hip with hers in playful admonishment. "Shut up and just start already."
Neither of them noticed the amused looks being swapped by their classmates at their easy rapport. Or Millers leaning back with a knowing smirk, clearly recognizing the chemistry flying between her formerly antagonistic partners.
For the next hour, Harry and Y/N launched into their meticulously prepared overview of the key figures and works emerging from the Romantic period. Their back-and-forth was flawless yet casual, almost playful at times with little ad-libs and jokes only they were in on.
At one point, Harry lightly mocked Lord Byron's arrogance with a pompous impression that had Y/N doubled over giggling into the mic, barely choking out the next lines through her laughter. When she managed to catch her breath, she shot him a look that was equal parts fond exasperation and...something more heated.
There was a noticeable spark between them that had clearly evolved far beyond the adversarial classmates they'd started as. And if anyone could miss that subtext, it became blindingly obvious at the end when they seamlessly transitioned into their concluding remarks, standing shoulder to shoulder.
"So in summary, while the Romantics may have been a pretentious bunch of melancholic lads-" Harry began.
"-their pioneering works cemented their place as quintessential figures in literary history," Y/N picked up without missing a beat.
They shared a grin before finishing in unison, "And that's the tea, no cap."
A surprised burst of laughter rang out from their classmates at their cheeky sign-off, even the prof hiding a smile behind her hand. Everyone could see it - the easy chemistry, the almost electric undercurrent between the former rivals.
Everyone, that is, except Harry and Y/N themselves.
As they moved to return to their seats amid the applause, neither seemed to register the weighted looks and muffled whispers following them. Harry just ducked his head with an almost bashful smile, still riding the high of how flawlessly they'd worked together. While Y/N felt her cheeks flushing under the weight of what she convinced herself was just residual adrenaline.
In the weeks after their wildly successful presentation, that same strain of electrifying connection only grew stronger between them. You'd never know they'd spent the first half of the semester low-key loathing each other based on their current vibe.
Now, when Harry's frat brothers tried to rib him about his "study buddy" at their typical dive bar hangout, he just threw an arm around Y/N's shoulders and proudly declared, "More like my brain twin!"
Y/N would just duck her head with a bashful grin, pointedly ignoring how her heart did a little somersault at both the affectionate nickname and Harry's easy touch.
Or like when they sprawled out on the quad between classes, passing a bag of chips back and forth as Harry ranted about his coach riding his ass over the big rivalry game next week. Without even thinking about it, Y/N would reach out to squeeze his knee consolingly as he huffed out his frustrations. It was such a simple, natural gesture between them now that she didn't even register the slightly stunned look Harry shot her before clearing his throat gruffly.
Even their friends couldn't resist commenting on their respective obliviousness at this point.
"Bruh, Y/N literally lets you call her 'love' without punching you in the dick," Niall pointed out bluntly one night when Harry claimed, once again, he and Y/N were "just friends." His Irish buddy arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Pretty sure she wants to ride your lancer if you know what I mean."
Harry smacked him hard while trying not to get flustered. "Shut the fuck up, asshole."
While on Y/N's end...
"Sooooo, when are you gonna admit you have a huge crush on Styles?" Her friend Riley asked point blank over brunch, making Y/N nearly choke on her mimosa.
"What? No I don't!" She insisted a little too quickly, refusing to meet Riley's all-knowing gaze. "We're just...really good friends."
Riley hummed disbelievingly. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England."
Y/N opened her mouth to protest further before clamping it shut as her mind started helplessly rehashing all her favourite little moments with Harry over the past few weeks. His warm, anthracite eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed at her jokes. The proud grin he'd get whenever she successfully understood something he'd tried explaining. The way she felt this inexplicable magnetic pull to stay pressed into his side for as long as possible whenever they hung out...
"Oh my god," she breathed out, smile slipping as the enormity of her revelation dawned. "I'm in love with Harry fucking Styles."
That's not to say the smitten epiphany immediately changed anything between the two. Well, maybe it made their lingering hugs and casual touches go on for a few beats too long. Or had them both shyly stealing glances when the other's back was turned.
***
Mostly though, they just continued their cozy, obliviously pining routine of late night FaceTimes and weekends holed up studying together for finals. All while Harry's team prepared for their annual football rivalry game - the biggest matchup of the season that would make or break their championship chances.
The night before the game, Y/N found herself inexplicably anxious as she sat in the stands amid a drunk, raucous crowd. Harry kept shooting cheesy grins and double finger-gunged winks her way whenever he trotted past her section, clearly buzzed on adrenaline.
"Go get 'em, superstar!" She shouted at one point, laughing as Harry blew her an obnoxious kiss before getting back in the huddle.
The energy in the stadium was electric and infectious, Y/N finding herself caught up in the cheers and chants despite not being a huge football fan normally. Something about watching her...Harry out there gave her swirling butterflies low in her belly though.
As the intense game raged on, Y/N was on the edge of her seat, nails digging into her palms whenever Harry took a brutal hit or made a heart-stoppingly risky play. At one point he got absolutely leveled by a linebacker twice his size, his helmet bouncing sickeningly off the turf.The roar of the crowd faded into the background as Y/N watched in horror as Harry's body slammed violently into the turf. She felt her heart stop as he didn't immediately get back up after the brutal hit.
"Harry!" she screamed, her voice drowned out by the gasps of the other spectators.
The medical team rushed out onto the field as Harry lay unmoving. Y/N's hands shook with fear as she watched them carefully roll him onto a backboard and load him into the ambulance. She felt tears streaking down her cheeks as the ambulance pulled away, sirens blaring.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally received word that Harry was going to be okay. The doctors said he had suffered a severe concussion and possible spinal injury from the whiplash of the hit. He would need weeks of rest and recovery.
Y/N rushed to the hospital, desperate to see him. When she entered his room, her heart broke at the sight of Harry's battered body hooked up to various machines, a cervical collar immobilizing his neck.
"Harry..." she whispered, taking his hand gently in hers. "I'm so sorry."
Harry's eyes fluttered open at the sound of her voice. "Y/N? You're here..."
"Of course I'm here, you idiot," she tried to joke, blinking back more tears. "I was so worried about you."
A small smile tugged at his bruised lips. "I'll be okay, love. Harry is a thick skull, remember?"
Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't help grinning at his terrible joke. "Don't scare me like that again, Styles. I don't know what I'd do without you."
A look of tenderness crossed Harry's face that made Y/N's breath catch in her throat. But before either could say anything further, the doctor entered to check on Harry's condition.
***
Over the next week, Y/N diligently stayed by Harry's side in the hospital. She helped feed him, kept him company, and supported him through the difficult early recovery stages. Harry quickly grew restless being cooped up, but every time he tried to get out of bed against doctor's orders, Y/N was there to scold him.
"You heard what the doctor said, Harry. You need to rest and let your body heal properly," she chastised him one day as he tried to get up.
Harry groaned in frustration. "But I'm going stir crazy in this damn bed! I feel fine, Y/N, honestly."
"No, you don't," Y/N said firmly. "You could have had a serious spinal injury. You're lucky it wasn't worse. Now lie back down before I get the nurses to strap you in."
Grumbling, Harry reluctantly complied, though he continued to hate being so confined and immobile. Little did Y/N know, he was already hatching a plan.
A few days later, Y/N arrived at the hospital only to find Harry's bed empty. Her heart leapt into her throat as she rushed to the nurses' station in a panic.
"Where is he? Where's Harry Styles?" she demanded.
The nurse gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, he checked himself out against medical advice earlier today."
"What? No, he can't have!" Y/N cried. She knew immediately where he would have gone.
Sure enough, when she ran across campus to the football practice field, she found Harry standing on the sidelines in his gear, acting as if nothing had happened. White hot fury blazed through her veins.
"Harry!" she yelled, storming toward him as the first raindrops began to fall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Harry turned with a cocky grin as he saw her approach. "There's my favourite nerd. What's got your panties in a twist, love?"
"You insufferable asshole!" Y/N exploded, not caring that they had an audience of his confused teammates. "The doctor said you needed weeks of rest and recovery! You could have permanently injured your spine!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Relax, babe, I feel great. Probably just overreacted with that whole backboard and neck brace nonsense."
"Are you kidding me right now?" Y/N seethed, hands balling into fists at her sides. Rain began pouring down around them, quickly soaking them both, but she didn't care. "You're incredible, you know that? You have zero self-preservation! No regard for your own safety and well-being!"
"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Harry scoffed, though his casual demeanor faltered slightly under her furious glare.
"Dramatic? You could've been paralyzed, Harry! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Her voice broke with frustrated tears. "Don't you understand how terrified I was watching you lying there, not moving? I thought...I thought I might lose you."
Something flickered across Harry's features then. His cavalier mask slipped for just a moment, allowing a flash of guilt and tenderness to shine through that sent Y/N's heart lurching treacherously. Then it was gone, the wall snapping back into place.
"Well, I'm right as rain now, so you can quit your worrying," he said gruffly, turning his back on her.
That was the final straw for Y/N. She grabbed his arm and whirled him around to face her, not caring that they were getting drenched by the downpour.
"You're so fucking reckless with yourself, Harry! Like you have zero self-preservation or even an ounce of common sense! Do you have any idea how scary that was to see you lying there, not moving? How I thought..." Her voice hitched, throat growing too tight to continue as burning tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
Through the rapidly blurring vision, Y/N registered Harry staring, chest heaving like she'd actually winded him with her outburst. His hands hung frozen at his sides, knuckles going white as he watched her come completely unraveled. And still she wasn't finished.
"You can't just keep putting yourself in danger like that! Pulling stupid fucking stunts and flipping off your own safety like it doesn't matter! Because it does, Harry. It matters so much to...to me," she finished in a thick whisper, finally allowing a tear to escape and streak down her flushed cheek.
A weighted silence stretched between them, Y/N struggling to regain her ragged breathing as Harry continued gaping at her, utterly shocked by her reaction. Waves of tension rippled through the small space separating them.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only seconds, Harry seemed to recalibrate. His expression went utterly blank for a beat before, out of nowhere, his eyes hardened into flashing jade. When he spoke, his tone was laced with a chilling detachment.
"Why?"
Y/N blinked owlishly. "W-What?"
"Why the fuck do you care so much, huh?" Harry exploded, eyes flashing as he aimed his scathing hostility directly at Y/N. "Last I checked, I'm not your boyfriend or your family. I'm just some dumb jock you study with, right?"
Y/N flinched at the biting sarcasm, feeling tears prick her eyes anew at his harsh dismissal. But Harry was on a roll, fists clenching and unclenching as he visibly wrestled with...what? Anger? Fear? She couldn't tell, but his next words sliced deep regardless.
"So why do you get to flip out and pass judgment every time I take a hit, huh? You think I don't know how to handle myself out on that field?"
"That's not what I-"
"No, clearly you don't think I have any sense of self-preservation or whatever psychobabble bullshit diagnosis you want to armchair next!" Harry barreled over her attempted protest, voice rising in a sharp crescendo.
He took a menacing step closer, using his full height to loom over her in a move that likely would've been intimidating...if his eyes didn't look so pained and conflicted behind that mask of bitter anger. "Tell me, Y/N - what gives you the right to freak out like that, huh? To look at me with those scared eyes like you have any claim over whether I live or die or-"
"Because I love you, dammit!" The confession exploded from Y/N with the force of a meteor strike.
A stunned silence fell over the field as Harry gaped at her, mouth hanging open in shock. Even the rain seemed to pause in the heavy tension between them.
After several moments where Y/N felt her panic rising, Harry finally found his voice again. "You...you what?"
Y/N took a shuddering breath, bracing herself. She had come too far to back down now.
"I love you, Harry," she repeated, slower and more sure this time. "I have for a long time, you idiot. But you're always so reckless and careless 'bout your own safety. You take stupid risks and shrug it off like getting hurt is no big deal!"
She stepped closer, feeling tears mingling with the raindrops on her cheeks. "Don't you understand? The thought of you being seriously injured, or worse...it terrifies me. Because I couldn't handle losing you. You mean everything to me."
Harry continued staring at her, eyes blown wide and lips parted as if her confession had utterly short-circuited his brain. Y/N pressed on, needing to finally unleash all the feelings she had kept bottled up for far too long.
"I love your stupid jokes and your kind heart. I love how passionate you are about football, even if it drives me mental sometimes. I love the way you always smell like sandalwood and make me feel so safe when I'm with you. I'm in love with every obnoxious, laddish, reckless part of you and I can't keep ignoring it anymore."
She let out a wet chuckle, wiping futilely at her drenched face, her hands still shaking. "So yeah, that's why I care, you absolute wanker. That's why seeing you get hurt destroys me every single time, because the thought of being in a world without Harry Styles in it is just too much for me to bear!"
The words hung heavy in the rain-soaked air between them. Y/N watched Harry open and close his mouth a few times, clearly struggling to find a response. For once, his swagger and cockiness had completely deserted him as her feelings poured over him in an unstoppable tide.
Just when the silence was becoming too much for Y/N to bear, Harry finally seemed to find his voice again.
"You...you love me?" he rasped out, the disbelief and wonder evident in his tone. "Like, you're in love with me?"
Y/N felt her cheeks flush hot despite the cold rain. She gave a small nod, unable to meet his intense gaze. Her heart was thundering so loudly in her ears, she barely registered the shouts and hoots coming from Harry's teammates who had witnessed the whole emotional outburst.
"Shut it, you wankers!" Harry barked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off Y/N.
In two long strides, he closed the distance between them until they were mere inches apart. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as Harry reached up with one hand to gently cup her jaw, tilting her face up toward his.
"Y/N..." he murmured, emerald eyes searching hers intently. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"
She let out a shaky laugh, leaning into his touch despite herself. "And ruin our friendship if you didn't feel the same way? I couldn't risk that, Harry. You mean too much to me."
Something blazing and tender flickered across Harry's face at her confession. Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, he leaned in until their foreheads were resting together. Y/N shivered at the intimate proximity, at the way his familiar woodsy scent surrounded her completely.
"You daft woman," he murmured, the words fanning warmly across her lips and making her shiver for an entirely different reason. "Don't you know there's nothing I want more than for you to be my girlfriend? To be able to love you the way you deserve?"
Y/N's eyes fluttered closed at that, her heart feeling fit to burst from her chest. She had spent so long forcing herself not to hope, not to read into the heated glances and lingering touches she shared with Harry. Could he truly feel the same earth-shattering connection she did?
Her eyes blinked open again at the feeling of Harry's calloused thumb brushing reverently across her rain-soaked cheek. He was staring at her with such naked adoration and longing that it stole the breath from her lungs.
"I'm so bloody gone for you, Y/N," he confessed roughly. "Have been for ages now, if I'm being honest. Thought maybe I was imagining things between us or reading too much into it since I couldn't fathom someone as incredible as you wanting a mug like me."
Y/N opened her mouth to protest, to reassure him that she wanted every infuriatingly charming part of him, but Harry pressed on before she could get the words out.
"Then today, hearing how scared you were when I got laid out...how you thought you could lose me?" He shook his head slowly, curls dripping rivulets of rainwater down the sharp planes of his face and throat. "Don't know how I didn't see it before, love. The way you care about me, put up with all my shite...it's because you love me. Isn't it?"
It wasn't really a question, more like Harry was testing the words out for the first time and savoring the way they sounded. A thrill went through Y/N at getting to be the one to put that Look of rare, hushed awe on his handsome face for once.
"Yes, Harry," she answered anyway, both hands coming up to cradle his beloved face. "I'm desperately in love with you. The good, the bad, the reckless...all of it."
A crinkly-eyed grin stretched across Harry's lips then, brighter and more vibrant than Y/N had ever seen before. He wasted no more time closing that minuscule distance between them, capturing her mouth in a searing, all-consuming kiss.
Y/N gasped against his lips as the dam finally broke, months of too-long denied want and need bubbling over in heated waves. Harry's hands slid into her soaked hair, angling her head to deepen the embrace as he licked hungrily into her mouth. Y/N clung to him just as fiercely, fingernails scraping against his scalp and shoulders as if trying to physically pull him closer.
They were both panting harshly by the time they wrenched apart, sharing the same air in the infinitesimal space between their swollen mouths. Y/N felt drugged by the glazed, predatory darkness swimming in Harry's blown pupils,by the intimate glide of their rain-drenched bodies.
"Fucking finally," he growled against her lips before diving back in, one large hand splaying possessively across the small of her back.
Y/N hummed in ardent agreement, getting lost in his dizzying taste and scent and touch once more. It felt like a cosmic star had been reborn between them, the force of their crashing inevitability obliterating all the hurt and confusion from before.
Neither was sure how long they stayed like that, trading desperate, drugging kisses amongst the pouring rain. But eventually, Harry pulled away just enough to nose his way along Y/N's jaw, lips dragging hotly up to her ear.
"Let's get out of this downpour, hmm?" he husked, teeth grazing her shell and making her shudder. "Got some making up to do for being such a blind tosser."
Y/N pulled back just enough to catch the incandescent fire blazing in his darkened gaze. Her breath hitched at the onceiled promise flickering there, at the tips of his wicked fingers already slipping beneath the drenched hem of her top.
It seemed she wasn't the only one who had been harboring some pent-up longing and hunger.
Still, there was one loose end she couldn't resist tugging before allowing Harry to whisk them away... "Does this mean you're finally going to start taking better care of yourself?" she asked archly, arching one pointed brow. "No more stupid, reckless stunts for my idiotically brave footballer?"
Harry audibly groaned, dropping his forehead dramatically against her clavicle as his hands flexed with bruising force against her hips.
"Whatever you want, love," he conceded gruffly. "No more injuries or shite, I swear it. Now can we please get the fuck out of here before I embarrass myself further by ravishing you in the mud right in front of my teammates?"
Y/N gave a squeak of surprise as Harry abruptly ducked to gather her up in his arms, hitching her legs around his waist in one fluid movement. He sealed his wicked promise with another lingering, molten kiss that left her head spinning.
"Now, where were we..." he growled darkly before striding determinedly off the field, Y/N clinging just as fiercely in his embrace.
The teammates' raucous catcalls and laughter faded into the rainy background as Y/N tucked her face into the curve of Harry's neck, savoring his familiar sandalwood and smoke and the feeling of being wrapped in his arms at last.
She was never letting him go again. Not if she had any say in it.
♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡
tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)
feedback | masterlist
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Friends Who Share Mutual Emotions {part 3.} (housemate!harry series)
Arguments and Confessions {part 2.} (housemate!harry series)
AN: i've been in a writing mood lately so i hope you enjoy me spitting out these stories left and right lol. anyways, here is part 3 to my housemate series. before you ask, yes there will be a part 4 and hopefully a couple more after that. let me know how you liked it and make sure to leave your feedback. thank you and enjoy!
This story contains: mentions of one-night stands, confessions of feelings, slight angst, fluff
{ housemate!harry - friendrry - soft!harry - au harry }
word count- 1,372
Harry confesses that you're the women he likes and after giving you some time to think, you have an eventful conversation about your mutual feelings and how you'd like to move forward within your friendship.
Looking deeply in your eyes, Harry answers clearly, "Her name..... her name is Y/n." The weight of his confession leaves you standing in the kitchen, completely shocked. When you initially asked him about his love interest, you never anticipated that he would reveal his feelings for you. Although he described some of your qualities, you didn't think much of it, as many people can possess similar traits.
Realizing that you need some time to process his words, Harry rises from his stool and states, "I don't expect you to feel the same way about me or anything. I'll give you some space to think, alright?" With that, he turns around and retreats back to his bedroom.
Now standing alone in the kitchen, you find yourself torn about what to do. On one hand, the man who kindly allowed you to stay in his home as a housemate, who eventually became your friend, and whom you've developed feelings for, has just confessed his affection for you. It seems like the ideal outcome, but what if something goes wrong? You would risk losing your best friend and a place to live.
On the other hand, if everything goes well, you could finally experience a fulfilling relationship. You could put an end to the casual encounters and truly understand the intimacy that others have experienced in Harry's bed. You would have the opportunity to feel his touch on your skin and savor his kisses, something you had only imagined during fleeting encounters with strangers.
---------------------------
You head to Harry's bedroom and upon reaching his door, you give it a hesitant knock. A soft voice responds with, "Come in." and you take that as your signal to enter. Inside, you find him sitting up in bed with his cat Pixie beside him, and the TV showing old episodes of Friends.
Approaching his bed slowly, Harry gestures for you to sit beside him. After a deep breath, you confess, "I want you to know that I have feelings for you too, Harry. How could I not? You're kind and sweet, and anyone would be foolish not to have a crush on you. But, I'm afraid."
Harry turns off the TV to focus on you. "Afraid of what, Y/n?" he asks, "We both like each other. What's there to fear?"
"It's not that simple, Harry," you respond with a hint of frustration. Why can't he see your concerns? Maybe it's a gender difference. Men don't worry about relationships as much as women do. Well at least from your personal experiences.
"Can you explain then, please? I want to understand your fears so we can move forward in a way that works for both of us."
Shifting uncomfortably on the bed, you express, "Harry, what if things don't work out between us? What happens then? I could lose a friend and I might not have enough money to cover regular rent in London."
"Y/n, our mutual feelings don't automatically require us to rush into a romantic relationship. We can proceed at a comfortable pace, one day at a time. Even if we don't progress beyond friendship, I value our bond too much to risk losin' it. As for your concern about losin' a place to stay, rest assure that I would never evict you if things don't work out romantically. You were my housemate first and foremost, and that won't change. Well, unless you want to move out someday that is."
Hearing his words have made your eyes gloss over. You can hear the sincerity in his voice and it makes your heart swell. But, you still need some clarification to move forward. "So like, where do we go from here, Harry? I don't want to think we're one thing but you assume we're something else. I don't want to constantly be questioning where we stand. What's too much or what's not enough."
Harry adjusts his posture, leaning closer to you. He carefully reaches out for your hands and clasps them within his larger grasp, holding them gently as he begins to speak. "As I mentioned earlier, Y/n, we can take this slow. Let our connection develop naturally. At this moment, I would describe our relationship as friends, but friends who share mutual emotions. And in response to a question I know you may have, no, I will not be sleepin' with anyone else. And I don't expect..."
Anticipating his next words, you swiftly interject, "No, neither am I. I mean, being involved with someone else intimately. I can promise you that. Besides, I never truly enjoyed having one-night stands. I only sought them out as a means to conceal my feelings for you. But now that my feelings are out in the open, there's no reason to hide them any longer. From now on I only want you."
Chuckling in relief, Harry murmurs, "Just me, huh?" He was incredibly anxious that you might still have the desire to sleep with other people, even though that didn't make much sense after you had confessed your feelings for him. However, he couldn't be entirely certain.
You lean forward, wrapping your arms around Harry's body, embracing him tightly. "Of course, Harry. I would never do that to you. Besides, most of the men I slept with were unsatisfactory, so I'm perfectly fine with giving up my one-night stands."
Harry reciprocates the embrace, then teasingly asks, "Unsatisfactory? Are you tellin' me those muscular, macho men you brought home hardly ever satisfied you?"
You respond, your voice filled with affection against his neck, "That's right. And when they did, it was usually because I was thinking of you."
"Alright, let's end that conversation right here or we'll have a problem on our hands and break our 'takin' it slow' rule." Harry remarks, trying to maintain a sense of caution. If you kept talking about how you always thought of him while having sex with all those strangers, he'd get hard in his pants and he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable right now. Nor does he want to move that fast. Like he said, he genuinely would like to take whatever you are, slow.
You laugh at his words and playfully say, "Can we take a nap? I'm feeling tired. Didn't get much sleep last night."
Harry nods in the embrace you still hold and replies, "Yeah, we can take a nap if you'd like. I didn't get much sleep last night either."
As you sit up, you carefully shift towards Harry's side where he's preparing a space for you to rest. "Seriously?" you inquire. Although you noticed his exhaustion when he entered the kitchen earlier, you didn't consider that it might be due to a lack of sleep.
"Yeah," Harry begins to coo while helping you under his duvet, "felt awful with how I spoke to you last night. The guilt ate me alive and I couldn't sleep."
Now laying side by side, facing each other, you whisper out, "Awe, well you can rest easy now. I forgive you." As your eyes flutter shut, Harry can't help but think about how you're too far away from him. Even though you're literally just six inches apart in reality.
So without thinking, he draws himself closer to you and wraps you in his arms. Which in turn has you pressed up against his clothed chest. "Is this alright?" Harry whispers quietly. Although he wishes to take things slowly, cuddling is typically considered a leisurely activity, isn't it? It remains innocent and platonic.
"Yes, very much alright." you reply and soon after fall asleep. The musky smell Harry produces along with the warmth of his body lulls you right to sleep. It may be only nine in the morning but with your lack of sleep the night before, have no trouble falling unconscious.
Harry also falls into a deep slumber. The comfort of having you in his arms lulls him into a state of relaxation, leading him to quickly doze off. His cat Pixie has now settled at the foot of the bed, peacefully asleep alongside you both. Harry's once anxious room is now filled with tranquility. The unfolding of your friendship will become more apparent when you wake up later today.
(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)
(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )
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My Masterlist Masterpost
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Harry Styles Fic Recs: Smut
------------ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍓🍒🍄 ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ------------
Hello everyone! Thank you so much for 200 followers! Here is the long-awaited smut fic rec masterlist so I hope y'all enjoy 😏😏
Last Updated: 7/02/2024
Series
Personal by @shawnxstyles
Only Angel by @cupid-styles
Blacking out and breaking hearts (slowburn!) by @dont-call-me-baby-posts
teach me by @freedomfireflies
office neighbours (another slowburn) by @atlafan
baby honey by @narrycherries
One Shots
Wishing you were here tonight is like holding on by @guardarecheluna
private show by @stylesharrys
the long weekend by @gurugirl
tentmate by @purplekiwis
moans and elevator music by @pleasingforharry
manbun by @eveningepiphany
just friends that f*ck by @1800titz
don't stop by @justlemmeadoreyou
the pact by @harryslittlefreakk
intimacy by @goldengalore
rough day by @goldengalore
Y/N and Harry have been on a dry spell, but then they fuck by @jawllines
short straw by @adorebeaa
learn to knock by @eveningepiphany
bound together by @harrysonlylover
overheard by @0nlythrowharrybeaux
#harry styles fic rec#harry styles masterlist#harry styles fan fics#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles au#harry styles smut#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagines#harry styles imagine#harry styles fluff#harry styles series#harry styles#one direction#harry styles x reader#harry styles writing#harry styles fanfic#harry styles x you
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ring hard launch - blurb
the content we got today just SCREAMS fiancé!harry for me so i came up with this, enjoy !
gif by @sunkissedlouis <3
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
If there was something that was definitely at the top of your list of favorite activities, was spending time with Harry.
It didn't matter if it was getting groceries, joining him for a bike ride or simply laying on the couch together, every moment that you spent together brought you contentment and joy that you couldn't find anywhere else.
And now that he was your fiancé, it was safe to say that both of you wanted to be glued to each other every single minute.
Harry proposed the morning of New Year's Eve, in the comfort of your home with both of you in your pajamas as you enjoyed homemade breakfast bagels, and it was absolutely perfect.
Ever since, you had been happier than ever, sharing the news with your family and closest friends and enjoying your engagement in private without prying eyes from paparazzi, fans and media.
"We better win tonight," Your train of thought was interrupted by Harry's voice, you were currently heading to the Luton vs Man United game, and even though you couldn't care less about football, your need to be close to him all the time made you say yes when he asked you to join him, "Thank you for tagging along, baby. I know this is not your scene so it's nice you came."
"I'm just here for the drinks and snacks," you teased, watching him roll his eyes at you, "And to enjoy the evening with my handsome fiancé, of course."
"There we go," he smiled now, grabbing your hand and placing a small kiss to the ring on your finger.
Ever since you got engaged, that had became his favorite habit, and it made your heart flutter every single time.
"It sucks that I have to take it off," you said, making him look at you with a raised eyebrow, "The ring, I mean. I have to take it off before we get out of the car, otherwise headlines will go crazy and Jeff is going to freak out."
"Mm-hmm," he paused to think, eyes darting for the road to you, "What if... you don't have to take it off?"
"What do you mean?" you said, noticing that you were about to enter the back of the stadium.
"I mean..." he grabbed your hand again, tugging the ring affectionately, "What if we let the world know about it? I talked to Jeff and the rest of the team last week, they said we could make it public whenever we felt like it, at our own terms. So why don't we do it today?"
Harry parked the car at the spot that was reserved for him and turned to look at you with a wide smile, waiting for your answer.
"Are you sure?" you smiled back at him, noticing the glow in his eyes that almost made you melt.
"Couldn't be more sure, love. Besides, the album is coming soon and everyone is going to connect the dots as soon as they listen to the first song, might as well give them an early heads up."
"Let's do it," you said, leaning over to kiss him, "I feel like everyone is going to focus on the fact that you're finally outside and with brand new hair, they won't even notice the rock on my finger."
Harry rolled his eyes again and gave you another kiss, "I swear to god, woman. You're something else."
You headed inside of the stadium to the VIP suit you were going to watch the game in, walking hand in hand with your engagement ring glistening on your finger, cameras around filming and taking pictures of both of you.
"Do you think twitter is freaking out yet?" you asked Harry as you settled on your seats.
"No idea, baby, I don't use that app," he shrugged, "Do you want anything to drink?"
"Would you get me something fruity that has alcohol that doesn't quite taste like alcohol? That's the only way I won't be bored to death."
"Sure thing." Harry laughed and kissed the side of your head before standing up to get your drink, coming back a few minutes later with exactly what you asked and a bottle of sparkling water for himself.
"So we're rooting for Man U, right?" you asked as you took a sip from your drink.
"Seven years together, months away from getting married, yet you still don't know I'm a Man U ride or die," he put a hand on his chest, "I don't think this is going to work."
"I was just teasing, drama queen," you pecked his cheek, "I know your true loves are Man U, the Green Bay Packers, peas and Fleetwood Mac."
"And you," he winked, making you roll your eyes with affection and take another sip from your drink.
A few minutes into the game, you found yourself quite invested on it, constantly asking Harry about the stuff you didn't understand and getting nervous when the other team was about to score or your team missed a goal.
"Lord, I don't want to watch," you said as a player from the opposite team was getting ready to hit a penalty, hiding your face against Harry's shoulder, "Harry! You're supposed to be watching the game, you've been staring at me for half of it now."
"Sorry, you're just too cute," he kissed the crown of your head, "You can watch now, he failed it."
"Thank god."
By the end of the game, you were both on your feet, cheering as Man United secured a win. Harry was ecstatic, and you found yourself caught up in the excitement, cheering alongside him.
While you were engulfed in your own bubble during the game, cameras has caught up on the ring of your finger, and Harry and you immediately became a world trending topic, with fans speculating whether you were actually engaged or not.
As you laid in bed scrolling through the millions of tweets about the game Harry finally emerged from the bathroom, ready to get in the covers.
"Are you reading about us?" he asked, sliding into bed beside you.
"Yeah," you replied, showing him some of the tweets, "But I don't think it was quite clear for some of your fans, some of them don't think we're really engaged."
"Well, I guess it'll be clear when the album comes out."
#harry styles#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#1k
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daisy (english profrry x TA!yn)
part one of english profrry is here!!!!!
word count: 6.3k
BIG content warnings: massive, glaring warning for an inappropriate relationship. y/n is a graduate student in this and of legal consenting age, but there's an age gap of four years between her and harry. she is his TA, which means there's a big power imbalance between them. bc this is fic we'll pretend it's romantic and all very consensual but if this is triggering to you in any way, DO NOT READ IT. it's not worth hurting your mental health. also, if anything remotely like this happens in your personal life, IT IS NOT OKAY.
other CWs: small smut scene at the end (m masturbation with descriptions of m receiving oral, slight cum play), y/n alludes to having seasonal depression but it's never outwardly said (just be aware since the descriptions of it could be triggering to some!), a bit of angst but nothing crazy
with all that out of the way, if you still choose to read, I hope you enjoy :) love you all lots!!
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. . .
Professor Styles is a dick.
That’s what the entire English department said when it was announced that Y/N would be his newest teaching assistant for the spring semester.
They all sneered at her, throwing what they pretended to be caring warnings her way, claiming that he was impossible to work with and he didn’t even actually need a TA, he just liked picking students to embarrass. With their noses upturned at Y/N but not actually offering any kind of advice, she left the small English building shortly after the Dean unveiled the new schedule for TAs, anxiety bubbling in her stomach and thick, salty tears in her waterline.
She knows Professor Styles doesn’t have the greatest reputation on campus. She actually actively avoided taking any classes with him throughout the duration of her bachelor’s degree, and even as she chose to stay on to enter her first year of graduate school, she picked any other available professors over him.
He was known for his less-than-personable demeanor and the way he picked apart students’ essays, leaving them questioning their entire life path. Y/N has never felt much insecurity about her career — she’s always wanted to go into English, maybe opting for a small but impactful job in publishing or editing — but having a professional ruin her writing sounded… well, awful.
In reality, Y/N didn’t have much of a choice when it came to her teaching assistant preferences. She needed a job that wouldn’t take up too much of her time. Her first semester of grad school was difficult and stressful. All of her friends graduated and went on to cool jobs all over the country, while Y/N just stayed in the same apartment. She was homesick for her family and walked through a campus every day that reminded her of a better version of herself — one who had a flourishing social life and excellent grades. Just a few months of working on her masters degree had worn her down.
Despite the slight dip in her grades from university to graduate school (an expected change, her advisor had explained), she was still recommended as a TA for the English department in the spring. She’d really been gunning after Professor Rooney, a kind, middle-aged woman who had spent years working glamorous jobs in the publishing world. She had connections everywhere and was incredibly sweet, and Y/N knew she would feel comfortable working in her sections for the semester. All winter break, she imagined how wonderful it could be; that maybe it was the huge win she needed after such a shitty fall.
But Professor Rooney didn’t choose her. Professor Styles did.
Even with a promise of a reasonable stipend contingent on the completion of her TA position, Y/N’s world felt like it came crashing down just a little bit — but she knew better than to complain or blubber on about not getting her way. Instead, she chose to just get through it.
In the final days of winter break, Professor Styles emailed her to meet in his office the day before classes began. He didn’t ask if she was back on campus or if she had a good break. Y/N wanted to resent that, but chose to swallow it down.
When she got to his small office in the department, she gently knocked on the open door, signaling her arrival. He peered up from whatever book he was hunched over on his deck, straightened his posture, and checked his watch.
“You’re late.” he said flatly, shutting the paperback with a force she didn’t even know was possible. With furrowed brows, she glanced at the lockscreen on the phone she held.
“You said 10:30, right? It’s 10:30 now.”
“On time is late,” he muttered, folding his hands on his desk, “Early is on time.”
She swallowed, her lips parting like a guppy. He rolled his eyes and motioned to the seat on the other side of her desk. Quickly, she took it, placing her tote bag at her feet and making a mental reminder to arrive at his classes five minutes early from this point on.
“Right, so you’re my TA, then?”
She nodded, “Yes, for the spring semester.”
He hummed, though she couldn’t tell if it was a sound of approval or discontent. He moved his computer mouse over the surface of the university provided mouse pad, making his computer buzz to life. With an awkward silence settling between them, the sound of the mouse clicking was the only thing that filled the dim office.
“You just graduated from the English department last spring,” he said, eyes scanning over what she now assumed was her student file, “3.8 GPA. That’s fine.”
She blinked at that, resisting the urge to balk at him. 3.8 was .2 away from a perfect GPA. It was more than fine.
“You didn’t take any classes with me during your time as an undergrad.”
“Um, your sections were always full—”
“I don’t really care what your reasoning is,” he cut her off, continuing to scroll down the screen. A lump formed in her throat but she tried to swallow it down. Nothing sounded more embarrassing than crying in front of Professor Styles. “And now you’re getting your masters in English with a concentration in Feminist Literature. That’s an unusual one. Why?”
She’s surprised he’s bothered to ask her a question, so it takes her a moment to form a cohesive answer on her tongue. She’s flailing a bit and she knows he can tell, based on the unamused expression on his face.
“I’ve read a lot of literature where there’s a female main character and she’s just used to state a point or some sort of backwards lesson that was considered modernized for the time,” Y/N speaks softly, picking at her nails in her lap, “I’m interested in studying that more.”
“What kind of literature?” Professor Styles instantly fires back.
“Well, I wrote my undergraduate thesis on The Scarlet Letter, but I’ve also been thinking about basing my graduate capstone on Ophelia from Hamlet.”
He makes that annoying humming noise again, and she’s still unsure if he’s pleased or thinks she’s an idiot. She wasn’t unused to the latter — a lot of snobs in the English department thought it was stupid of her to care for critiquing older pieces of writing from an argumentative, feminist perspective, even if they acted like The Odyssey was an “absolute must-read” for everyone.
(It’s not. Y/N thinks The Odyssey is dumb and boring, but she’ll never say that, especially not to Professor Styles.)
“Right, well,” he lifts a white ceramic coffee cup to his mouth and swallows briefly. She glances down to see he’s drinking hot black coffee, and her lips furl into a quick, involuntary wince. “You’ll be with me three days a week. You are to attend the daily lectures — Mondays and Wednesdays are the shorter section and Friday is the long, three-hour one. Helping out with grading and holding office hours will be your primary tasks. If you fall ill or need to take a day off, I need at least 24 hours notice. If I receive any complaints from students, you’re out. Otherwise, it should be a fine semester. Any questions?”
She shakes her head, hoping he’ll show some inkling of delight at her quick ability to understand and process. Instead, his lips remain in a flat line and he nods, taking another sip of his coffee.
“You can go now. See you tomorrow.”
She scrambles to leave his office as quickly as possible.
. . .
Professor Styles barely speaks to Y/N for the first few weeks.
It’s unsettling in a way, especially because she doesn’t know if she’s doing a good job. She thrives off of reassurance, but every time she hands him a neat stack of newly graded papers or drafts, he simply waves her off with an, “alright, thanks.”
If she’s being honest, it makes her want to try even harder, though she’s not entirely sure why. She has the urge to claw her way to the very top of Professor Styles’ repertoire of students and assistants — a need for perfectionism that can only be quelled by the person least likely to give it to her.
And it’s driving her absolutely insane.
She wants to ask, straight out, “am I doing an alright job? Do you need anything more from me?”, but she’s positive that will only make her glow with insecurity. He’d probably laugh in her face and call her a baby for needing his acceptance.
It eats her alive as she sits at the front of the lecture hall, watching his female students stare at him with hearts in their eyes as he discusses the politics of Ursula Le Guin. It bugs her only more than he's one of the most attractive people she's ever seen, always impeccably dressed with long, ring-clad fingers.
Grumbling, she realizes that she probably looks just as pathetic, so she quickly straightens her posture and runs her fingertips over the mousepad of her laptop so it glows back to life. She’s supposed to be going over the grades of the students’ first essays — her and Professor Styles were meeting after class to discuss them in the event that anyone needed additional assistance for the upcoming paper.
She busies herself with that until he ends class, creating a list of a few names that would potentially need to be met with one-on-one. He doesn’t say anything as he gathers his own materials from the lecture, and she follows him out of the hall and to his office just as silently, carrying her laptop in one hand and her tote bag on her shoulder.
Professor Styles’ office is always cold and dark, never failing to send a shiver down her spine when he unlocks the door. Today, her shoulders shudder involuntarily and she pushes her sweater sleeves down to cover her hands. With a rumple in his eyebrows, he sits down.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
Y/N snaps her head up in surprise. She doesn’t mean to look shocked, so she quickly revises her facial features in an attempt to look collected.
“Oh, it’s just cold,” she says, waving him off nonchalantly, “I’m fine.”
“Yeah. I think this winter has been especially brutal.”
His reply especially dazes her — she’s unsure if that’s an attempt at making small talk, something Professor Styles has never done with her before, but she instantly nods her head, as if she’s speaking with a toddler who’s expressing their emotions for the first time.
“Yeah, I think so,” she says softly, “The snow is awful to walk through.”
“Do you live far from campus?”
She shakes her head and sets her laptop and planner on her side of the desk, across from Professor Styles and his things.
“No, just a 10 minute walk or so, but I don’t have a car.”
He hums at that — that stupid, unassuming hum that contributes absolutely nothing to the conversation. She wonders if she’s in her head about it, but she feels his eyes linger just a beat longer on her face before tearing them away. He licks over his teeth as he taps on his laptop to wake it back up.
“Right, then. Did you go over their grades?”
As she pulls her things out from her bag, she tries to ignore the small pit of disappointment in her tummy from Professor Styles shifting their conversation back over to class.
. . .
That weekend, Y/N thinks she’s hallucinating as she meanders up and down the aisles at Target.
She’s not really looking for anything in particular. Sometimes she just comes here for something to do. Her bank account isn't exactly flowing in a way that permits her to buy all the cute home decor she gazes at, which is why her basket currently consists of the following: pads, a new pack of her favorite gel pens, cookie dough, and a lip balm that she’ll probably put back before she checks out.
It’s another harsh, cold day out, the freezing temperatures refusing to let up as the days of the month flit by. This is Y/N’s least favorite time of year — when winter sticks around despite the holidays being long gone. All that’s left between now and spring is pesky snow and fake Hallmark holidays, and she yearns for the days where she can walk to campus and admire the tulips peeking out from the damp soil. By then, she’ll be closer to returning to her hometown for the summer, where she’ll likely get a job for a few months working in the local library or bookstore.
It’ll be good — she’ll get to see her friends and spend time with family and save up some money, and maybe the hopefulness of life warming up in a few months will be enough to get her through this semester.
And as she’s daydreaming of brighter days, that’s when it happens — when she thinks she must be fully hallucinating, because as she strolls down one aisle in particular, Professor Styles is standing there, his bottom lip pinched between his fingers as he stares at space heaters.
She’s never seen him off campus. Sometimes that happens since a lot of professors live close by, so it’s not unheard of to pass by an advisor or faculty member at the supermarket or through the park. But seeing Professor Styles here feels… illegal, somehow, especially given his casual, dressed down attire. He’s wearing what looks to be a cozy sweatshirt and a pair of athletic shorts, despite the temperature nearing the 20s today. (Y/N is bundled up in three sweaters, a jacket, a scarf, gloves, and leggings beneath her jeans.) White socks go just above his ankles, and the running shoes on his feet make her wonder if he’s insane enough to actually be working out in this weather.
She must be analyzing his form for a beat too long — maybe it’s the shock from it that still hasn’t worn off — because he feels her gaze, eyes veering to his peripheral, realizing that his teaching assistant is standing there as if she’s waiting for permission to enter the aisle.
“Hey,” she blurts out when she realizes she’s been caught.
Confused by her frank, laidback greeting, he lifts his head to face her. “Hey.” he echoes awkwardly.
“Um, sorry.”
He quirks an eyebrow and Y/N’s body heats with embarrassment. “Sorry?”
“Sorry… I-I should’ve just walked away when I saw you,” Y/N quickly attempts to revise, but she realizes it’s just making her sound stupider, “I was just surprised to see you here.”
“In a public store?”
“Right,” she nods curtly, turning on her heel, “Have a good rest of your weekend—”
“Wait, did you need something down here?” he rushes out, almost as if he’s fearful she’ll leave. She pushes the thought down but parts her lips nervously, eyes scanning over the contents on the shelves. She doesn’t need anything, she was just putting off having to brave the cold weather on her walk home.
“Yes,” she says slowly because, once again, she’s suddenly stupefied and enamored by the prospect of small talk with Professor Styles, “I needed… lighters. For my candles.”
He nods, a quiet “ah,” sounding from his lips, and they stand there like they’re doing some sort of parallel play; Y/N pretending to look at the long, safety lighters while Professor Styles continues to look at space heaters. She wonders if he for some reason is pretending, too, but then he’ll squat down to look at the features on one box, making a tsk-ing noise with his mouth, and straighten back up to analyze a different model.
When he finally decides on an option that’s best fit, he grabs the box and places it in his cart. Quickly, Y/N plucks a random display of lighters and throws them in her basket.
“Hope you found a good one,” she mutters out dumbly, feeling the need to interject one last sentence into their silence. He glances down at his cart, then at her basket, and then, finally, at her.
“It’s for the office,” he says. “You said it was cold.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“This should help with that.”
“Sure, yeah. I have one at home, it helps a lot with the draftiness.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.”
“Maybe you can get an extra lamp in there, too. Spruce it up a bit.”
A wrinkle forms between his brows, “What do you mean?”
Y/N wishes the ground would swallow her up whole.
“Nothing! I just meant— like, sometimes it’s a bit cold, and with the weather, it can get dark, too. The winter’s tough, don’t you think? That’s all I meant, I’m sorry—”
“No, you’re right,” he says with a decisive nod. “You’re the only other person that really spends time there besides students. Do you want to help pick one out?”
“Sure, okay.”
They walk in silence to the lighting display, which is filled with a myriad of different options. Professor Styles looks semi-overwhelmed by it all and Y/N has to bite her lip so she doesn’t smile too widely at his confused expression. She points to a simple, inexpensive standing lamp.
“I think something like this would be good, in the corner or something. Just for some extra brightness.”
“Is that the one you like?”
Y/N doesn’t have strong lamp preferences, especially when it comes to a space that she’s not even living in, but for some reason, it seems important that she says yes. So she nods her head, flashing him a small smile. He returns it, and she realizes that’s the first time he’s ever smiled at her.
“Okay. I’ll have this stuff set up for when you come in on Monday.”
She swallows, feeling the mountain of adoration in her stomach grow. She shoves it down.
“Thank you, that’s really kind of you,” she says.
“Sure. I’ll see you then. Have a good rest of your weekend.”
She hides in the lamp aisle for another 15 minutes, until she’s positive he’s left the store.
. . .
Professor Styles and Y/N are working in their typical silence when he says something that makes her jaw nearly drop to the floor.
She thought that after their short but personable interaction at the store, things would change a bit. Maybe he would feel more comfortable talking to her outside of monotone grunts or the occasional “are they failing my class?”, but things remained the same. When she came in that Monday, the space heater and lamp were both on and running as he promised, but it was as if nothing happened.
It irks Y/N to no end.
She assumes that he sincerely doesn’t care for her, which she supposes is fine considering kindness or approval aren’t part of the job description. That’s why she’s shocked when he says it a few weeks after the weekend they saw one another in public.
“I think you should ask to change your advisor to me.”
Y/N chokes on her spit, hurriedly coughing into her hand so she doesn’t spray saliva all over his desk. Once she recovers, he’s staring at her expectedly, as if what he said was completely and utterly sane.
“Sorry?” she asks, “Why would I do that?”
She doesn’t mean it to sound rude, but it’s a genuine question. Typically, there’s some type of rapport between a grad student and their advisor, and she and Professor Styles have absolutely none of that.
Professor Styles clears his throat and folds his hands on his desk. “Because I got my masters degree in the same thing, so I spent four years studying exactly what you’re studying. I think you’ve been doing very well as my TA and I would like to advise you.”
“Why would you ask me why I was studying that, then?” she blurts out, confusion apparent on her face. “The first day we met, you told me it was unusual.”
“It is.”
“But you studied it.”
“I did.”
“So why would you say that?”
Professor Styles sighs as if this is the most boring and obvious conversation he’s had all day.
“I wanted to hear you defend it. See why you’re interested and make sure it’s not all bullshit.”
Y/N shakes her head, “So you were playing some kind of mind game with me? For fun?”
“It wasn’t a mind game, Y/N. I just wanted to know why you’re interested in it.”
She bites her lip and looks down at her laptop screen, which has since gone dim since they began talking. If she’s being truthful, she’s grown tired of Professor Styles. Up until now, she was positive she was doing things wrong and he just didn’t care enough to correct her — only to find out that he wanted to work with her even more. It made zero sense.
“Are you going to do it, then?” he asks, tearing her from her thoughts. Her expression pinches as she rolls her lips into a thin line.
“I don’t know.” she answers in a watery voice. “I like my advisor, and I assumed you didn’t like me very much.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Why wouldn’t I like you?”
“You barely utter three words to me on a daily basis and never tell me if you’re happy with my work.”
Professor Styles scoffs, leaning back against his leather computer chair.
“You need regular approval from me to know whether or not I like you?”
“Yes,” she admits, anger building in her chest until she can’t help but blurt out what she’s thinking, “It’s how I work. If you were a good professor, you would’ve asked how I best function at the beginning of the semester. Instead, you ignore me for fun.”
“You don’t think I’m a good professor.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “I didn’t mean that. I think you are. I just don’t think you’re the best at managing teaching assistants.”
He shrugs, but she notices a slight wince in his features. “We can’t all be good at everything, can we?”
“Right,” she mumbles, drumming her fingers on the edge of his desk. When he doesn’t reply, she shuts her laptop and stuffs it in her bag. “I’m gonna go then. I’ll see you next week.”
He’s silent as she gets her things together and pulls her jacket on, wrapping her scarf around her neck and zipping it on top of her sweater for extra warmth. As her boots carry her across the length of his office and to the door, he stands from his seat.
“Y/N,” he says, and she turns to look at him. “The deadline to change your advisor is next Friday. I hope you’ll still consider it.”
. . .
That evening, all Harry can think about is his sweet, quiet TA. The one who he undoubtedly offended earlier today — he cringes at the thought of it, replaying their conversation over and over in his head. He can’t stop thinking about the upset look on her face. When she asked if he was playing mind games with her, he wanted to get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. He never meant to hurt her, not one bit.
He sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. He’s had reruns of some shitty sitcom on since he got home from work a few hours ago. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, but even a laugh track and ‘90s era merriment couldn’t distract him from thinking about her.
He considers the things she said about wanting his approval. He’s never been well-liked in the English department, likely because of his rough exterior. He’s not immune to the things he hears from students and faculty, about how he’s grumpy and someone to be feared, even if he didn’t even intend to come off that way. In all honesty, he never wanted to be perceived in that matter — but once his reputation began to precede him a year or two ago, he figured there was no use in trying to convince people otherwise.
That's how it had always gone, anyway — in high school, when he started experimenting with different styles of clothing, everyone assumed he was gay. He'd desperately tried to refute those claims, even if he wasn't completely sure of his sexuality himself. But no one cared — they'd already made up their minds, and it seemed useless to attempt to change their ways of thinking.
And when people spoke here, mumbling about how mean and terrible he was... well, what was the point?
Y/N was the only person he cared to win over, and it was eating him alive.
So much so that he made the blind decision to maybe, possibly cross a very clear boundary between professor and TA. Despite Y/N being of legal, consenting age (after looking at her student file, he found that he’s only four years older), he still attempted to prioritize maintaining a professional relationship with every one of his students and TAs.
He couldn’t help himself with her, though. He knew it was bad — he could feel his heart thumping quickly in his chest, the logical part of his brain telling him to stop while he’s ahead, but he couldn’t. Not as he grabbed his laptop, logged into his work email, and composed a message to her student address. Not when his fingers danced over the keyboard and resisted the urge to implore her to start fresh with him. Not when he clicked ‘send’ without even proofreading to make sure it sounded appropriate, not creepy or weird.
He pushed his laptop away and got up to pour himself some wine, attempting to rid himself of any lingering guilt.
. . .
From: [email protected]
Subject: Today
Time: 9:57 p.m.
Hi Y/N,
I wanted to apologize for how I acted today. It wasn’t kind of me and you deserve far better than that. I understand if you have no interest in changing your advisor. Please know that whatever you decide, your TA position will not be in danger, should you choose to continue working with me.
Thank you for all of your hard work. You’ve been doing an excellent job and I’ve very much enjoyed having you this semester. Have a good weekend.
x Harry Styles
. . .
On Monday, Y/N’s mind is whirring.
It’s not because the semester is nearing midterm season, although that’s part of it. It’s because Professor Styles emailed her an apology at almost 10 pm on Friday evening, and she’s repeatedly read it over at least 50 times since receiving it.
She didn’t reply because she wasn’t sure what to say — and, most shockingly, he didn’t sign it as Professor Styles. Instead, he ended the message with a kiss, for crying out loud, followed by his name. His name!
It’s all she’s been able to focus on for days, to the point where she contemplates not showing up to his lecture on Monday. But she’s better than that — she’s stronger, and she’s smarter, and she doesn’t want to hide.
She avoids Professor Styles’ gaze all throughout his lecture, instead focusing on grading first drafts for the class’ midterm paper. She knows she’ll have to sit with him in his office afterwards, and her stomach churns at the thought. In some way, she feels ashamed that she said anything to begin with. Her comments about him not managing TAs properly have made her shrivel into a mortified version of herself, and she’s shocked he didn’t fire her on the spot.
Worst of all, she hates the way her heart jumped into her throat when his name popped up on her screen on Friday night. She craved the feeling, hoping he would, for some reason, do it again, even though she never responded. She wasn’t playing hard to get by any means, but the fact that her brain even veered in that direction proved one thing to be true: she has a big, fat crush on Professor Styles.
The knowledge sits like a rock in her stomach, especially as they walk in silence to his office after class. The air between them feels awkward, but she’s not sure that there’s ever been a time where it hasn’t felt odd between them. When he unlocks the door, she quietly steps inside, her heart skipping a beat at the space heater and lamp already turned on.
Usually, he keeps the door open while they work. Today, he shuts it, the soft click of the lock making her jump.
“Can we talk?”
Y/N’s throat dries but she nods, gripping the strap of her tote bag close to her arm. She turns to face him, and for the first time ever, she notices that he looks… nervous.
“About last week. I’m sorry, but I’m even more sorry for emailing you that on Friday,” he rushes the words out like he wrote a script out and was waiting to perform them, “It was completely inappropriate, and I got the hint when you didn’t reply.”
“The hint?” she peeps out, her voice squeaky and embarrassing.
“Yeah,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, “About not wanting me to advise you and… you probably found my email to be weird, right?”
Quickly, she shakes her head. “No, no. I.. I actually haven’t given much thought to the advisor thing, but I didn’t think it was weird. I just didn’t know how to respond.”
His eyebrows furrow, “Why’s that?”
“Because I felt guilty about what I said to begin with! A-and you could’ve fired me if you wanted to, but instead you apologized and said that I’m doing a good job—”
“You are.”
“Exactly!” she exclaims frustratedly. “I didn’t know how to respond to that.”
“To me being… kind?”
“Yes.”
He blinks at her, the crinkle between his brows deepening.
“I’m just not used to it, Professor Styles.” she says with a sigh.
“Harry,” he corrects.
“What?”
“My name is Harry. I don’t want you to call me Professor Styles.”
Y/N ignores the quickening of her heartbeat and shifts her stance from foot to foot.
“Why are you doing this?” she eventually blurts as she crosses her arms over her sweater-clad form. She’s not sure if she detects an inkling of pity in his face, but if she does, she wants nothing more than to run for the hills and never return. For some reason, the thought of Professor— Harry feeling bad for her makes her shoulders shudder, a prickly sensation tip-toeing down her spine, as if shame is completely and utterly eating her alive.
His lips part in a quiet sigh. “I just… I spent the weekend thinking of you and feeling awful for the way I’ve treated you.”
Thinking of you.
I spent the weekend thinking of you.
Her stomach turns as his words echo throughout the chambers of her brain. But then there’s a click — like the second part of the sentence just ekes its way through, planting a seed of self-doubt and insecurity. And she backs away like he may explode at any moment.
“You shouldn’t— no, that’s alright,” she shakes her head, gaze set low on the carpeted floors of his tiny office.
“Y/N—”
Again, she cuts him off with a shake of her head, raising her eyes to look at him. His expression is pained and she wonders if hers is any better, though she assumes for different reasons: He doesn’t want to get fired for torturing another grad student. She has an inappropriate crush on the professor she works for.
“It’s all good. Call it even?” she rushes out, leaning over to grab her things from her chair, “Fresh start on Wednesday. Don’t mention it again, alright?”
She’s gone before he can stop her.
. . .
Harry accidentally falls asleep in his office that evening.
It’s half because he’s absolutely swamped with work, too fearful to email Y/N and add things to her grading pile after the way she all but ran away earlier today. He’s terrified he made her uncomfortable.
He doesn’t want to return to the quiet loneliness of his apartment, where he’s constantly faced to force the reality of his life: A man in his early 30s with a job that he likes, but no one actually likes him at it. His entire family resides in London and with the exception of a few friends from his schooling years, he’s alone. Especially in the romance department.
His heart aches for Y/N. He realizes it’s a bit dramatic, even slightly taboo given the nature of their professional relationship, but he likes her. He likes her so much that he doesn’t want to go home and think about how badly he messed things up, so he falls asleep face-down on his desk, his cranium wedged between piles of pens and a Post-It list of to-do’s.
When he wakes up, he doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for. The soft, golden light from the lamp is still just barely bathing the circumference of the room, but as he blinks his eyes open, he realizes that it’s silent. He can see through the small frosted window that the hallways are dim, which means it’s most definitely sometime in the evening.
He feels… somewhat guilty but charged as he wakes from the fog of his sleep, eyebrows furrowing as he stretches his arms out. His neck already aches from the discomfort of his sleeping position and he groans, lifting a palm to sort the knot out.
And that’s when he realizes it — why he feels as if his body is buzzing, his hands sweaty and his throat dry. He’d woken up in the middle of a sex dream and, like a pathetic teenager, the star of it had been his crush. Y/N.
He scoffs to himself as he glances down at his crotch where, sure enough, his length is painfully hard beneath the constriction of his trousers and underwear. He swallows, eyes flickering closed. He can remember the exact details of his dream, even if they send a bead of guilt dripping down his chest — they’d been in his office, just like this. She was between his legs, knees pressing into the carpet of the floor, her eyes rounded and expectant as he toyed with her, pretending to guide his cock between her lips only to take it away at the last minute. She pouted every time, a plushy lipped-frown punctuating the words he hadn’t even realized he’d been dying to hear: “Please Professor Styles, stop teasing me.”
At the realization, he’s sent into a frenzy. He doesn’t even think to check whether the door is locked (or maybe if he’s locked in the building, no less), before he’s clawing at his belt and zipper, yanking the fabrics down to reveal a pair of swollen balls. His length stands hard, his eyes nearly rolling back just from the feeling of looping his fingers around the base. He can’t remember the last time he was this pent up just from his own imagination, but it’s not a difficult place to return — not as his head leans back against his office chair, allowing his dream to pick up and take form in full consciousness.
So much pre-cum is bubbling at the tip that he doesn’t need much of his own spit to lubricate himself. He bites his lip hard to prevent himself from groaning out too loudly, envisioning the way she’d finally suckle around the tip of his cock, looking up at him with proud eyes. He’d gradually help her go deeper, but she’d be excited, willing to bruise her throat for him. She was so good — in his dreams, in real life, she was always so, so good.
“So good, Professor,” she’d pant out, popping off to lick a stripe up the side of his cock. With spit-swollen lips, she’d venture down to his balls, rolling them in the palm of her hands before taking each one into her mouth. In reality, he gasps at that, tugging them in his own hand.
But what really gets him there is an impossible thought — one that has nothing to do with the silly wet dream his brain conjured while he slept. Her in her own bedroom, her naked form wrapped up in her sheets while he gazed over lovingly, pressing soft kisses along her shoulder and down her arm. She’d giggle breathily before flipping onto her side to face him. And she’d say it — I love you — and it’d feel like heaven.
That’s what pushes him to finish all over his hand, cum dribbling over his fist as he pants and gasps like he’s just discovered masturbation. His orgasm encompasses his entire body, a few beautiful, peaceful moments of complete pleasure that causes all of his muscles to tighten deliciously. Of course, he envisions her taking all of his cum, licking it up eagerly over his digits, making a show of it — she’d open her mouth, pretty pink tongue out, and he’d watch as she swallows. He shudders at the thought of it, quickly snapping his eyes open and grabbing a tissue from the box on his desk to clean himself up. He’s immediately back to his grumbly state as he does, irritated that he allowed himself to lose control in such a finite way.
He tosses the dirty tissue in the garbage can and stands up to tug his briefs and pants back up. The clink of his belt buckle is the only sound throughout the small room, so he jumps when a knock sounds on the other side of his closed door.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, someone knows, I must have said her name, I’m such a fucking freak—
His eyes widen when the person speaks: “Profess— Harry? Are you in there? It’s Y/N.”
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notes on love
summary - harry attends the football and you attend the baftas
pairing - fiance!harry x famous!reader
word count - ~1.5k
*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*
It was the first time Harry had made a public appearance in months.
Sans a hat on his head.
After braving a shave to solidify a new chapter in his life, Harry had decided that enough was enough and he just wanted to be seen again. Gain some new publicity.
“I can’t do this.” Harry’s voice rang through your phone.
Your phone was currently propped up on the vanity in front of you, whilst your stylist gracefully worked around you to get your hair and makeup done.
“H, baby. You’re going to a football match where over half the population there will be white bald men. You’ll blend right in.”
You took a sip of your apple juice in its carton as you suppressed a laugh. Harry rolled his eyes at you, taking the joke like the good sport he is.
“I actually have more hair than them. I’m not bald anymore.”
“See! Embrace the new hair, H. You look really good.”
Harry smiled at you then, his eyes which had previously been darting between watching you and looking out the moving car window were now permanently on you.
“Not as beautiful as you, though, love.”
“Don’t even have my makeup on yet.”
“Never needed it.”
You blew him a camera kiss for those words alone.
“Where are you now?” You reached for a slice of pineapple from the bowl of fruit you’d ordered from room service.
“About five minutes away I think. Are you still in the hotel?”
“Yeah. Don’t need to be ready until 5.”
You were getting ready for the BAFTAS, which Harry had hoped to be there with you for but you���d decided to take your nan as your date instead since she wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.
Harry was more than happy to let Nana, as he liked to call her, be your date to the BAFTAS. Plus, it meant that he could go see the football.
“You’re going to look so pretty.”
Harry had helped your pick out your dress, which was a sophisticated black to contrast the red carpet you’d be walking down. The dress itself was beautifully cut and shaped you in all the right places, making you look elegant and regal.
“I’m nervous.” You picked up your phone so the conversation felt a little more intimate, even though it was still over face-time.
“Why, love?”
“Don’t normally do stuff like this without you.” You pouted.
Harry wished he could kiss that pout away, “And yet the times that you do, you always end up winning! It’s like they never want you to win when i’m there.”
It was a running joke that Harry was your ‘bad luck charm’.
You didn’t believe that though. It’s just that other actors performed better and won, over you, because of it. If anything, you always won because you got to go home and drink hot tea and eat popcorn with your Harry.
“I’ll miss you.” Your face was so close to the camera that Harry could probably see up your nose.
“I miss you. Send me photos when you’re getting ready. I wanna see you before anyone else.”
“Okay.” You smiled. It was routine at this point to always show each other’s public outfits before anyone else.
“Have you got your ring?”
You held up your left hand and wiggled your ring finger in front of the camera. You blushed thinking about the moment that you got given the piece of delicate jewellery, with Harry on one knee.
“Always.”
“You going to wear it on the carpet?”
“Of course. Not going to draw attention to it though. I’ll let people discover it for themselves.”
Harry laughed at the thought. You two were practically the biggest, most A-List, celebrity couple around at the moment and so when people watch sight of you with the ring there’s no doubt it’s all people will talk about for weeks.
Someone told Harry they’d arrived at the venue, then.
“I have to go, honey, but text me updates please. Wanna see you get ready through photos, okay?”
“Okay.” You promised. “Text me to let me know you’re safely home later, please.”
Even though he was going back to his Manchester home, you still liked to know that he was safe and sound. Especially since you were in London and weren’t going to get to be with him tonight.
“Will do. I love you.” Harry kissed his fingers and then dotted them over the camera.
You returned the gesture, “I love you. Bye, bye, bye!”
•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•
You were just finishing getting ready and scrolling through Twitter.
Harry was trending worldwide for showcasing his new hair. His growing hair. No one had seen him like this since the end of Tour last year.
You pouted because you missed him a lot.
People were absolutely loving it. As always, a lot of people were losing their shit over Harry content. You were too, because you missed him.
“Oh, he looks so good!” Your stylist, Jamie, gasped behind you.
Jamie was currently fixing your hair and you had to say they had done an impressive job.
“I know.” You smiled to yourself.
“He looks like a sexy CEO.”
You laughed out loud at that, “When he puts on his glasses he does.” You agreed.
“Harry wears glasses?” Jamie gasped.
“Yeah, hang on..”
You started to go through your camera roll. It was only a few days ago that he had gotten new glasses, because he’d managed to lose his old ones. Typical.
You stopped on a photo of Harry sat in bed with the duvet up on his chest, a book in his lap and his glasses on. He didn’t realise you had taken the photo of him, but it was now one of your favourites.
“Oh damn…” Jamie gasped. “If your marriage ever goes south, tell him I’ll be available.”
You laughed again, shaking your head in dismissal but also approval.
You went back to Twitter to see if any of the Harrie accounts you follow have tweeted anything. You make yourself laugh as you look through their feral comments.
And just because you like to cause a riot on the internet you liked an insane tweet.
harriesmiles: the way that this photo makes me want to cling onto harry like a koala bear and never let go
It wasn’t long before you were trending with Harry.
Then the face-time call comes through from him.
“Am I done?” You asked Jamie quickly.
He nods, knowing you routine with Harry, and allows you to slip into the bathroom next to the bedroom.
You answered the call shortly after locking the bathroom door.
“Hellooo.” You said in a weird voice, feeling hyper from the Twitter craze.
“Hi, babe.” Harry was obviously outside and trying to watch where he was going, more than looking at you.
“Has the match finished?”
“Yeah.” And you honestly didn’t care enough about football to ask how it went. “Are you ready?”
Harry’s eyes flicked down to his screen momentarily, smirking when he catches sight of your glammed out makeup.
One thing Harry loved more than anything was you in a red-lip, so of course you had to make sure you had one for him - despite the fact he couldn’t kiss it off you tonight.
“What?” You giggled, watching him trying to suppress his smirk in public.
“You’re so annoying. I’m trying to act all cool and mysterious here and you’re making me smile like an idiot.”
You dipped your head and smiled, accentuating the blush that was already powdered onto your cheeks.
“H, honey, you’re walking through the streets of Manchester. No one cares about how you act. They’re probably all drunk anyways.”
“True, true.”
“Did you have a pint?” You propped your phone on the counter.
“Uh, yeah.” He said whilst trying to cross a road.
“Love, do you want to call me back when you’re at less risk of being hit by a car?” You sarcastically asked.
“No!” He yelped. “No. Needs to be now.”
You gave him a confused look but carried on regardless.
You shuffled back in the bathroom, giving him a full angle.
You watched in anticipation as Harry looked at you through his tiny screen, wishing it were ten times bigger.
“Wow.” Was all he said and you giggled like a girl having a high-school crush. “I love you so much.”
“So you like?” You swished your dress from side to side.
“Mhm. Wishing I wasn’t so far from you now.”
“Tomorrow. I’ll have all the kisses for you then.”
“Tomorrow it is, then.” Harry smirked to himself, kissing the camera.
Little did you know that tomorrow was coming a lot sooner. In fact, Harry had been running for the earliest train out of Manchester and down to London for the duration of the phone call. Because Harry was always going to show up for you.
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfic#ask finelinevogue#harry blurb#finelinevogue#harry styles concept#harry oneshot#harry styles blurbs#harry styles fic rec
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Jarofstyles Fic Rec 2023 🪽
hello my loves! Here is our updated fic rec.
[some may be repeats of last year because we reread them!]
Also check out our fic rec account, @jarofstylesrecs for some we most definitely missed!
There are so many I want to put on here and I’ll update it again, but here we are! Let me know of any fics you recommend 🩷
WATTPAD-
Bambi- vanillasoy (or @queenofgraveyards here) (ceo soft H, in my top 5)
Flower- vanillasoy (bodyguard/grumpy h x sunshine ofc)
Devil’s Due- petite_cerise (classic dark!H)
Adonis- temptress_ (dark!H and fierce OFC)
Valhalla- temptress_ (Viking!H)
Baby Blue- theasstour (artist!H and model y/n)
Lucky Penny- alisonfelix (teacher h, soft, ofc finding herself)
Informed Consent- alisonfelix (college romance, absolutely tooth rotting fluff I’m obsessed)
One Night Stand- alisonfelix (short story, pregnancy one night stand plot. A lil angsty but cute)
Ladybug- _screamingcolour (50’s au, super cute)
Pirouette- _screamingcolour (ballerina ofc, so fucking cute it hurts)
Flower Girl- sushirrrry (idk how to describe but chef’s kiss)
Celestial- sushirrrry (WIP, it hurts but it feels good, nerdy h who loves the stars)
Wildflowers- latenightgab (assholeish tattoorry, single dad)
Jezebel- latenightgab (sugar daddy ceo x dancer teacher)
Office Hours- latenightgab (lawyer and professor H x student)
Pink Slip- stillhurtingstyles (plus size! Assistant y/n x boss h)
Always - styleslegend (my OG favorite fic, nerdy h x popular y/n, old but good)
A Lifetime With You- anenglishbird (supernatural au, witchy, adore it)
Inclination- peanutboyfriend (sexuality discovery, so good)
Aerial- peanutboyfriend (aerialist h and ofc, 60’s set, another top 10 fic)
1789- everlasts (period piece, just read it. French Revolution)
Breaking The Ice- sarbearfive (hockey!H)
Sail My Ridges- @1800titz (new but soooo fucking good. Piraterry, writing is phenomenal as usual)
The Devil is a Gentleman- @1800titz (again, writing is incredible. Kink heavy, lovely, bdsm club, masks, real estate agent H- just please read it)
Sinners Place- @shroombloomm (so fucking good, preistrry, all the good drama, 10/10)
Do I Wanna Know? - @eatyourhoneyh (trust me, stripper ofc. Obsessed)
Boston- witchysunflower (hockey h, cheating plot)
Haste- htownrry (pregnancy plot but unconventional, racer h, very good)
TUMBLR-
Prosecco- @moonchildstyles (older!H)
Gravity- @moonchildstyles (camboyrry)
Aster- @moonchildstyles (tattoorry grumpy sunshine)
Èlan- @moonchildstyles (bodyguardrry that pulled my heart strings)
firemanrry- @jawllines (softest H, made of sugar and the little puppy :( )
Ballerinarry- @jawllines (enemies to lovers, obsessed)
Young American- @0nlythrowharrybeaux (tattoo artists h and y/n, so well written)
Wolves- @0nlythrowharrybeaux (Wolfrry!!!)
A Good Fit- @0nlythrowharrybeaux (trust me, read)
LVRS CLUB- @0nlythrowharrybeaux (sex club slay)
Best Friend’s Dadrry- @gurugirl (exactly what it says. So good)
The Arrangement- @gurugirl (sugar daddy h!)
The Ex- @gurugirl (trusf me again)
The whole Knockout series- @freedomfireflies (yall don’t even know how feral this series makes me…)
404- @freedomfireflies (again obsessed, nerdy enemies chefs kiss)
Silk and Rope- @cupid-styles (dom/sub dynamic, so soft)
Only Angel- @cupid-styles (tattorry, experienced h, shy y/n)
Complicated Freak- @lukesaprince (best friends Dadrry is a weakness)
Rich- @lukesaprince (older! H, age gap,)
Mutually Beneficial - @cherryjuiceblues (Dom/sub dynamics, perfection!)
Could You Live With Just a Taste- @frioamor (Dom/sub, smut is mind blowing)
Love’s Divine- @atlafan (nanny!h omg)
Peaches & Cream- @atlafan (anything they write tbh)
You’re Someone I Just Want Around- @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy & @sunflowervolvimp3 (I put this every year bc I reread it every single year. I’m obsessed. My Roman Empire. I’ve never heard ‘like real people do’ the same since.)
Please You- @adorebeaa (again just trust me)?
Wolfrry- @adorebeaa (please I’m obsessed w this and the smut is incredible)
The Dark King- @shroombloomm (so so so so so good, dark obviously but I love it)
Achilles Heel- @angelisverba (I’m obsessed w their writing and plugrry but this smut is mind blowing)
#fic recs#fic rec#jarofstyles fic rec#jarofstyles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles smut#harry writing#harry styles imagine#harry drabble#harry styles blurb#harry styles writing#harry styles fic rec#harry styles fanfics#harry styles au#harry styles oneshots#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#harry smut#harry fluff#harry angst
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Y/N just wants Harry to like her.
Word count: 5964
A/N: Friends!!!!! I am sorry to have disappeared but I am back. Yes, I am aware this is a Halloween/October story but you're getting it now mid November (that has been going by fast). I won't work on any holiday stories because I have no idea what to write. So if you have an idea and want me to write it feel free to shoot me an ask.
Now happy reading! I love you
+
Many people go to work ready to return home, but not Y/N. No, she walks in every day with a smile and a pep in her step. She greets her coworkers by name and occasionally brings baked goods she knows everyone will enjoy. Y/N loves her job, and she’s happy to go every day.
Y/N went from working in a job she hated because it was filled with men constantly belittling her and gaslighting her that she was doing her job wrong when she was actually excelling. It all got to be too much, and Y/N decided to quit. Thank goodness she did because soon into her job search, she received an email from Carla Crain asking her if she’d be interested in joining her company. Y/N went to the interview, and after basically being pitched her dream job, she accepted and entered as head engineer.
She’d be lying if she wasn’t nervous starting, but the people Carla had hired all shared the same values on work and life. Y/N knew she’d be in safe hands. The company is small but slowly growing. It allows for every employee to get to know each other and everyone to remember that together, they can be successful. Y/N had been at the job for two years and, with time, brought new coworkers.
There is Estrella, who loves to talk to you about astrology, ironically enough. She states that the invisible string theory is real and that if everyone tracked it, they would notice just how small the world is.
Carmy has a tough exterior, but once anyone gets him talking, he never stops. He loves chatting about his family and his pet Pitbull named Daisy.
Maeve is petite, and every other month comes in with a new color in their hair. Y/N enjoys it when everyone in the office places bets on what it will be.
Tatum is from Scotland and loves to remind everyone when they all go out for drinks on the weekend.
Chessy is the only one who works remotely, but when she comes in, she is always laughing in the office. They also all get a basket of fresh fruit and vegetables from her garden.
Overall, Y/N knows she had the best coworkers and wouldn’t change her job for the world, but as their company grows, so does the need in their team. The newest hire is Harry Styles, who has come in as a computer technician to help develop their website and also help with any internal security. Honestly, all she knew was that it was a complex job.
Harry was on the quiet side. She tried to start conversations with him, but he always seemed to brush her off. At first, Y/N wondered if she should take it personally but soon learned he did that to everyone. Even though he didn’t open up to them, they still invited Harry to join them.
The thing was, he rejected all their dinners. Y/N loved going to a Korean BBQ Maeve introduced them to, and Harry claimed not to eat meat (not that she didn’t think it wasn’t true. Chessy was vegetarian, after all.) They would go to a bar and share a few drinks when they knew they would all be having a long weekend off. Harry always claimed he had an early morning. It didn't matter if they offered to meet earlier. Y/N’s favorite nights were trivia nights that happened at a local brewery. Y/N was a beat, especially in history. Harry declined, and this one hurt her the most.
Everyone would ask Harry to join.
Karaoke. Can’t hold a tune.
Bowling. Too loud.
It seems there was an excuse for everything.
Everyone began to stop inviting him out, and while Y/N didn’t enjoy being told no, she would send notes to the office with the time and place of what they would be doing. She’d always keep an eye on the door, but Y/N went home disappointed each time.
The thing was, Y/N was determined to make a friend out of Harry. She soon learned large public settings must be overwhelming for him and decided to find a new way to approach him. Everyone took lunch at the same time in the office except for Harry. Sometimes, they all ate at the sub shop across the street. Most times, Y/N brought food from home, and she cooked. While she liked eating out, Y/N preferred a home-cooked meal. She caught Harry taking his lunch half an hour later than her and used that to her advantage.
They had a conference that always remained empty as everyone preferred the main lounge. Harry went in there every day for his lunch hour. One day, Y/N walks in, smiles at him, and sits as far away as she can. She made sure to only be there for ten minutes. The next day, she stayed for twenty and wished him a nice lunch when she left.
Slowly, Harry begins to spare her glances, but Y/N keeps to herself until the day she sits across from him.
“Hi, Harry. Is it okay for me to sit here?”
No answer.
“I’m going to take that as a yes.”
He fidgets with his fork.
“I saw a lime bike out front. Did you ride that today?”
Harry looks at her briefly before staring back at his plate.
“I’ve always wanted to try one, but I’m honestly scared of being hit by a car. Chessy lets me ride hers when I go down to visit her. She’s got beautiful trails. You’d probably enjoy it.”
Y/N thinks that’s enough for today and excuses herself. She doesn’t realize Harry noticed she didn’t take a bite of her lunch. When she goes back to her desk after using the restroom, she finds three chocolate chip cookies sitting on her desk. Y/N rushes to try one, doesn’t even think of who delivered them or that a green-eyed man was standing right outside waiting to hear her reaction.
With time, it seems Harry is coming to appreciate Y/N’s presence. He has never expressed it, but she knows because he nods when he agrees to something she says or tightens the hold on his fork when Y/N shares something upsetting. Y/N had not gotten more than two words out of him. At this point, Y/N felt like Harry knew everything about her; all she knew was that he had the most beautiful eyes, and his hair always looked soft.
One day, after many lunches together, she finds Harry reading a book. Y/N knows he might want quiet, but her curiosity gets the best of her.
“Any good?”
Harry looks up and grimaces. “Think it’s really boring.”
Y/N laughs because she wasn’t expecting that response. “Then put it down.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t like not knowing the ending.”
Y/N shrugs, “if you don’t like a book, I wouldn’t put myself through the torture of it all. Skip to the end if you're curious.” She understands she spoke too much and excuses herself.
The next day, Harry is sitting in his usual spot, but this time, a new book is in his hand. Y/N bites back a smile.
“What’s this one about?”
“My sister recommended it,” he defends.
Y/N isn’t halted by his harsh tone. “What’s it about?”
“Well, it’s Pride and Prejudice.” He shows her the book cover.
“Like the movie?” Y/N asks.
Harry laughs, and Y/N feels successful. His laughter rings in her ears. It’s a lovely sound, and she wishes to hear it more. “Yeah…I like the movie.”
“Me too,” she gushes. “Do you think I’d like the book?”
He frowns, “if you like Jane Austen.”
“Might have to pick it up next time I’m in the shops.”
+
Their interactions are solely during their lunches but sometimes spills out during work. Y/N seemed to have an issue with her computer and radioed IT. She needed to submit her document, but her desktop appeared to freeze whenever she opened a new file. Harry knocked on her door, and she welcomed him in. Y/N explained the issue, and Harry was quick to get to work. It was only a few minutes when she noticed that her document was open and her computer wasn’t having a meltdown.
“Thank you so much, Harry!” Y/N cheers, knowing he saved her.
Harry shrugs because it’s his job. “You have a nice photo.” He’s pointing to her picture frame on her desk. It’s a picture of her and a dog in Iceland at the end of her hike. It was taken back when she was nineteen years old.
“Thank you. I took that on my first solo trip.” She bites her lip, hoping Harry takes the bait.
“Where to?” He asks curiously.
She silently cheers, “Iceland.”
“Is that your dog?”
“I actually found him mid-hike and took him back with me. I hoped to see his owner on the trail, but there was no luck. He didn’t even seem worried. Once I returned to the car park, his owner was there. After that hike, I decided I liked the company of a dog and returned home to adopt Tutter, a Jack Russel Terrier who loves to play fetch.”
“Why isn’t Tutter on your desk?”
Y/N feels her face flush, “now, don’t be mean. I love my son, but that trip taught me I can do anything I set my mind to, whether alone or with company.”
Harry gives her the slightest smile. “I-I learned Italian because I always dreamed of having an Italian home.”
Y/N’s eyes brighten. Harry is opening up to her, and instead of pushing, she offers more of herself. “I’ve dreamed of visiting. The Amalfi coast is my dream to swim in. Silly, I know,” she brushes off, trying to downplay her excitement.
Harry doesn’t let her. “You’ll make it.”
He finally excuses himself. Y/N is happy for the rest of the day because she realizes Harry is allowing her in.
+
September means the preparations for Halloween have begun. It starts with little things, from coasters and mugs to the occasional treat. One day, a tiny spider sits on his desk for a second. Harry believed it was real until it began to glow purple. Harry kept it on his desk next to his sticky notes. He doesn't do anything about it; there’s no need. By the second week, the office is entirely decorated. Harry admits a few decorations have scared him, especially the skeleton in the corner of the restroom.
It’s a quiet day when he’s walking by the break room on his way to the secluded office to have lunch when he hears people talking. Harry pauses because he hears Y/N’s voice mixed in with everyone else.
“But it seems like he doesn’t like us,” Harry hears quietly.
“It’s hard,” Y/N defends. “You’re all extroverts. It can be overwhelming.”
Harry knows she’s trying for them to understand.
“But Carla is all about unity in the office. This is a concern.”
“It’s not, Carmy.” Y/N shuts him down, clearly upset she had to defend him.
Harry decides he’s heard enough and decides to eat lunch alone in his car. He’s thankful it was a sandwich and nothing he had to heat up. For the entire lunch and the rest of the day, all he thinks about are the words of his coworkers.
Y/N looked for Harry, excited to talk about a book she started, but Harry was nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t have been concerned, but it’s clear no one saw him since before lunch. She wishes Harry could confide in her even if a fraction of what she shares with him/
The next day, everyone walks into the office at their usual time, everyone making their rounds together to the break room to prepare their coffees and store their lunch in the fridge. When Y/N walks in, she sees her coworkers huddled around the table and peeks around them to see what has captured their attention. There on the table is a box of Halloween cookies from a bakery uptown with a note attached.
Enjoy - HS
Y/N lets a smile take over her face. She knew Harry cared about them but understood why he finally did something. She tells her coworkers they owe him an apology, and they all agree. Y/N makes sure to head to Harry’s office and thank him for the cookies. Harry tells her it’s nothing. She bounces away to her office, where Estrella, Carmy, Maeve, and Tatum are standing outside her door.
“Can you come with us? Feel like he likes you.” Tatum tells her.
Y/N sighs and tells them to follow her. Once again, she knocks on his door, and they all file in when he welcomes her in. Harry looks at them confused.
“Uh, is there an issue?” Harry asks, concerned.
Carmy starts, “we want to apologize if you overheard us yesterday.”
“Right,” Harry sighs, knowing it might be a good time to share with them. If he trusted Y/N and she trusted them, he knew he could also start to.
“It was wrong of us,” Maeve continues. “Y/N raves about how smart and nice you are, but we don’t get to see that. We’re sorry.”
Everyone else repeats the sentiment while Harry looks at Y/N, who offers him an encouraging smile. She must know his anxiety is through the roof.
Harry takes a deep breath, “right, uh.” He looks down at his shoes, untied lace on his black Adidas. “I struggle with social anxiety and new environments. It’s better than when I was a kid, but it’s easy to get overwhelmed even more when being the new guy.”
“No worries. We get that,” Tatum expresses. “Estrella gets bad migraines.”
“Don’t air other people’s personal stuff,” Y/N reminds them.
“We’re sorry,” they offered one last time. “Thanks for the cookies.”
After that, they hurried out while Y/N stayed behind.
“I wanted to apologize,” he begins.
“You don’t–” Harry cuts her off. “You’ve made me feel comfortable.”
Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders drop. “Not enough, it seems.”
“It can just be too much sometimes.”
“I-I get panic attacks.” Y/N shares, surprising herself. “When I overwhelm myself, it can happen. It’s uncommon and has not happened at work, but I understand.”
“Thank you for sharing,” Harry tells her honestly. “Lunch?”
“See you in a bit then.”
+
Through September, Y/N and Harry have lunch together every day. They read together, Harry more into classic literature, and Y/N loving to devour a juicy romance that has her pausing every few minutes, trying her best not to scream because the love interest brushed hands. Some days, Y/N will do a sudoku game while Harry does the daily crossword. Y/N likes to solve the Wordle of the day and most times asks Harry for help if she fears she might not get it. Some days, Y/N brings in her laptop during lunch because she is behind and needs to catch up. Harry reminds her to relax. He knows it’s easier said than done, so he tells her about the book he’s reading or asks about her dog and the snacks he eats.
Before she knows if they’ve made it to October. One of the best months of the year. Y/N loves planning events, and this is one she wishes Harry would say yes to. She knocks on his office door, and Harry freezes, staring at his computer screen. He glances at the calendar; it's the first Monday of the month, and Harry knows they’ve planned a fun event.
Harry is practicing his excuse when Y/N walks in with a bright smile, wearing a “Great Pumpkin” shirt with Snoopy and Charlie Brown. She has told him it’s her favorite movie to watch during the month and “The Conjuring” Harry wasn’t sure how the sweetest girl he knew could handle a horror film like that. He had told her she was fearless.
“Hi, Y/N, pretty shirt.”
Y/N looks down at it as if she had forgotten what she was wearing. She beams at his compliment. “Thank you, Harry!”
Harry asks how her day is going and shares how there was traffic on the way down and how she didn’t have time to stop by her favorite coffee shop because there was a line out the door. “Pumpkin spice isn’t even that good, H. I mean, it’s okay, but I wanted my coffee.”
He laughs at her pouting and promises to make her one during lunch. She perks up at his mention of their shared time together.
“Speaking of our time together. We plan to go to a haunted pumpkin patch in the next town over if you want to join us. It’s two weeks from now, so it's the 21st.” Harry could hear the excitement in her voice and didn’t think he could say no to her.
“Everyone is going?”
“We invited everyone, but only Carmy, Estella, Maeve, Tatum, and myself are going. Carla was not for it. Dan is warming up to us but still says no. Though he did agree for trivia next week.”
Before he can stop himself, he says, “yes.”
“You will?” Y/N answers surprised.
“Mhm…uh, it sounds like fun,” he says unconvincingly.
Y/N’s smile brightens, “I’m not hung on haunts, but they’ve got amazing apple cider you’ve got to try with me.”
“Happy to join,” he tells her honestly. “Let me know the ticket cost or if we need to purchase our own.”
She nods eagerly. It’s clear Harry has just made her day.
+
The day comes faster than he’s ready, and while a part of him is excited, Harry feels his nerves will get the best of him. Y/N had told them no one was dressing up in costume and even went as far as to send him a photo of her outfit to assure him she wasn’t playing a joke with him. She was wearing bell bottoms with a Mickey Mouse in a pumpkin shirt. She told him it was his favorite to wear each year.
Harry knew it would be cold, so he wore a simple Halloween shirt in his closet and loose-fitting jeans. His jacket in his car he knew would keep him warm throughout the night. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone (only Y/N) but also wanted to look nice outside of the office for once. When Harry parked, Y/N told him she’d wait by the entrance for him, and he couldn’t miss her as she had a cute pumpkin headband on.
It seemed Y/N spotted him, too, because she rushed towards him. “Hi, Harry,” she greeted with a cheery smile.
“Hi, you look lovely,” he offered her a small compliment that made his hands sweat.
“You’re too sweet. Come on, we were waiting on you.” She grabs his hand and pulls him along to where everyone else is.
Everyone offers their greeting, and he receives a few compliments on his tame outfit. It’s an old Halloween shirt he got at a vintage shop in New Orleans five years ago. His sister went on a trip and asked him to join. Harry could never say no to her.
Harry notices everyone begins to drift off into conversations, but Y/N stays by his side. He takes the time to admire her as she looks around at all the decorations. There are a lot of people, but it seems they are heading to the pumpkin patch. There are stalls selling sweet treats, and he keeps in mind to buy Y/N a cider, remembering she mentioned loving it. Harry has always thought being in a relationship to be intimidating. He loves love but struggles to put himself out there, to allow someone else to get to know him, but here is Y/N, who managed to worm her way into his life, knocking down all of his walls.
Harry likes Y/N.
It’s something he took a long time to figure out, but when he realized the excitement of seeing her each morning, he looked forward to it. He let it consume him, but he had no idea if she could feel the same way.
“Did you drive here, Harry?” Y/N asks, breaking their silence.
“I did,” he answers.
“Do you think you could maybe take me home?” She brushes her hair out of her face. “I came with Tatum, but she’s been wanting to take the time to connect with Estella, if you know what I mean,” Y/N gestures to them kissing on hay bales.
Harry had no idea that there were feelings between them. “I can do that, Y/N.”
“Great!” She cheers gratefully. “I owe you an apple cider, then.”
Y/N eagerly walks them to the stand, and before she can pay for both, Harry slips the kind older lady a twenty walking away with their drinks. Y/N stays behind, shocked, but quickly catches up, pouting at Harry. “Harry, I was going to pay.”
He shook his head, “my mum would have my head if I let you pay.”
Y/N bends her head, careful to take a sip of the warm drink. “Well, thank you.”
Maeve bounces over to them. “Hi beauties, we’re ready to start if you all are.”
Harry eyes Y/N, waiting to see her response. Y/N offers her friend a large grin, and Harry agrees he’s ready. He throws away their ups, and once he finds Y/N with the group, he slithers to stand behind her. Y/N offers him a tense smile as the group tries to decide who will lead.
“I can go in front,” Harry offers, sensing no one wanting to make the first move. Everyone thanks him and heads to the first maze. Y/N informs him it’s once based on the catacombs in France.
“There’s a movie based on the catacombs,” Y/N shares as they walk together.
“As Above So Below,” Harry says. “It spooked me.”
“You’ve seen it,” she laughs, holding onto his arm for a second, unable to contain her excitement. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“It’s a good one,” he agrees.
They fall into silence as the chatter of their coworker fills the air. Harry sees Y/N get fidgety, but she’s smiling as she leads the way to the short line. “I’m actually really nervous,” she tells Harry.
“We’ll be fine. I got you,” he assures Y/N.
Harry extends his hand, and she accepts it. He intertwines their fingers and pulls her along as the line moves slowly. Y/N does her best not to think about the feeling of his hand, but it fits perfectly between hers. She feels her hand begin to sweat and wants to pull it away, but Harry has a firm grip on her.
“Is it okay?” Harry nods, gesturing to their hands.
“Safe, uh, I feel safe.”
The worker asks how many, and Y/N peeks behind Harry to tell her six. Harry is grateful Y/N knows when to take charge because while he can lead a scary maze and knows everyone is dressed in costumes, he still feels nervous speaking to strangers. Harry squeezes her hand once in thanks. She gives him two quick squeezes in return.
Harry guides them in. Y/N lets go of his hand to hide behind Harry, her hands on his shoulder as she peeks behind him. There is a group ahead where she can hear the people in front screaming, which allows her to prepare for the scare, if that is even possible.
Her eyes widen in amazement as she takes in the darkness of the building. Everything is covered in black cloth. She can see the spots where actors will jump out. Y/N mumbles an apology to Harry for holding on to him tight. Estella is behind her, screaming at everything that moves. Harry steps through the curtain, and she feels her hold on him loosen. As she is stepping closer to reach him, a man screams in her face, making her rush forward and propel Harry into a wall.
“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Y/N apologized repeatedly as Harry rushed them to finish the maze. She felt her heartbeat in her throat and knew she needed to calm down. One look at Harry, and he rushed her to a dark corner, not concerned about their friends.
“Y/N? I’m okay. You’re okay.” Harry tried assuring her.
She repeated it in her head. They were okay. They got out of the dumb maze, and Harry wasn’t hurt. It took her a few minutes to realize she had a panic attack. Y/N had not even felt it coming and didn’t think a haunted house would trip her into one, but with all the overthinking she had been doing, it made sense it led to this.
“I’m sorry, Harry.” Y/N bashfully looks away from him. She can’t believe she embarrassed herself in front of him like this.
“No apologies,” he brushes her off and doesn’t ask her any questions, only to ensure she is okay.
They rejoin the group after ten minutes by the looks of everyone's sympathetic smiles. She knows they saw her freak out, but they’re her friends. She knows she’s in safe hands with everyone, especially Harry.
“What’s the next maze?” Y/N asks cheerfully.
And so they continue on.
The next maze is much smoother than the first. Carmy leads, tucking Harry and Y/N in the middle with Tatum and Estella in the back. That order seems to comfort Y/N for the next few mazes. Each worker makes her scream but then falls into giggles when Harry traces comforting shapes on her hand. It takes her mind off these scarers trying to get her to scream and instead focus on the gentle touches of her crush.
While doing the mazes is fun, Y/N is soaking up talking to Harry in line. They’re in a new environment where they do not need to discuss work. She feels free to ask him anything, but sometimes she is unsure where to start. Y/N doesn’t know if she wants to hear about his weekend plans or ask him about his favorite movie or who his favorite Muppet character is?
Talking to Maeve and everyone else is easy because she’s gone out with them. She knows them personally, but with Harry, he always kept that guard up, and now she’s unsure what to do if he decides to keep it up.
To her surprise, Harry always starts the conversation with her. Harry shares about a new show he started watching and how it makes him anxious for the main character when they do something out of character. When he asks Y/N if there is a show she recommends, her mind goes blank, and the first thing that comes to mind is “Fleabag.”
“It’s the saddest but most comforting show I have ever seen,” Y/N gushes.
“With Phoebe Waller-Bridge?”
“Mhmm…the second season has Andrew Scott. Irish treasure.”
“Paul Mescal,” he adds.
“Hozier.”
“Saoirse Ronan,” they say in unison before falling into fits of giggles.
“You’ve got taste, Styles.”
“As do you.”
The line moves, and they change conversations to talk about the best musicals they’ve seen. Y/N swears “Waitress” is the best thing created, but Harry tells her “Moulin Rouge” is his favorite. Y/N loves how easily the conversation with Harry seems to flow. He feels like a long-lost friend. Someone who once was in her life has now found his way back to her.
Not only is he getting along with her, but everyone is getting to see the Harry she had come to know. The one who makes cheesy jokes and loves to hear every detail of the story being told. It turns out he and Maeve frequent the same record store. There’s a Stevie Nicks vinyl Harry is on the hunt for, and Maeve promised to keep an eye out for him. Tatum learns Harry can play guitar and asks him to show them sometime. Something he agreed to with pink cheeks. Y/N knew tonight was a big step for Harry, and she was glad everyone made him feel comfortable.
As the night was coming to an end, the maze lines got shorter, and the more Y/N screamed. It made her laugh right after, but still not her favorite part of the night. Before the cold can settle in, they all call it a midnight night. Tatum and Estella head out hand in hand. Y/N can’t wait for the details of that on Monday. Carmy is telling Harry a story, so Maeve uses the opportunity to remind Y/N to make a move.
“It’s now or never, girlfriend.”
Y/N rolls her eyes, “please don’t pressure me on this.”
“Y/N that man is, head over heels for you. If I was antisocial this is not an event I would ever do. Unless someone I fancied asked.”
Y/N toes her food in the sand and, in a low voice, asks, “do you really think he likes me?”
Maeve smiles, brushing Y/N’s hair out of her eyes. “That man lit up every time your eyes were on him. I don’t know Harry as well as you do, but I can notice a guy with a crush from miles away. Trust me on this.”
Y/N backs down, relaxing, “okay.”
“Good. Now text me when you get home. Carmy’s got me.” Maeve gives her a tight hug and then pulls Carmy away from Harry.
He walks over to her with a shy smile on his face. “Have a good time?”
“The best,” she tells him. “Though I might need another apple cider. Think my heart needs it.”
“By all means, lead the way.”
After getting one last warm apple cider, they reach Harry’s car. It’s an electric car because he’s conscious of his environmental impact and knows one person can go a long way into the future. Harry opens Y/N’s car door and waits until he sees her seated and buckled to close her door. As he gets ready to drive off, he turns on the heater, knowing if he’s cold, Y/N must be too.
The car ride starts off quietly, Y/N guiding him every so often when to make a turn. Y/N sees her favorite coffee shop and knows she is almost home. “That was fun,” Harry starts. “I’m happy I went.”
“Mhmm…it was a good time. Glad you joined us,” she tells him honestly.
Harry notices at a red light that she’s fidgeting with her hands and thinks he might still be cold. “Do you need me to turn up the heater?”
Y/N shakes her head, “no, sorry, I’m fine.”
Harry drives down a few more streets when Y/N tells him to turn left. “It’s the third one on the right.”
He parks right outside her driveway. From here, he can see her decorations hung up. It’s decorated charmingly. It’s clear no scaring would happen here. She’s got two pumpkins outside her door. One has stars carved all around; the other is a cat on a witch’s broom. Bat lights are hanging up the railing of the steps. She even has a few inflatables. His favorite has to be the one of Mickey Mouse as a vampire.
“Thank you for driving me home. I appreciated it.” She smiles at him, and he returns it. Harry gets out of the car and opens her door.
“Let me walk you up.”
Y/N feels her cheeks burn and leads the way.
“We’re planning trivia soon,” Y/N says, testing the waters.
“Hmm…only if you’re on my team.”
“We would all be on the same team,” his flirting going over her head.
Harry’s face turns pink, “uh, right.”
She laughs, placing her hand on his bicep. “Only joking.”
Y/N pulls him in, whispering good night, except when she pulls away, she locks eyes with his emerald eyes, and it’s like she’s in a trance. She feels herself leaning in closer, and before she knows it, Y/N presses her lips to Harry in an airy kiss.
She pulls back, shocked. “Sorry,” she breathed out. “I-I should have asked.”
“Ask me,” he pleads.
“What?” Y/N isn’t sure if she heard him correctly.
Harry doesn’t care anymore. He raises his hand to rest on her cheeks. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”
She feels how close he is. She can feel his breath mixing with hers. “Yes.”
When their lips meet, Y/N swears she feels time stop. Harry is starting slow as he begins to learn what she likes. Y/N places a hand on his chest, needing to have a secure hold as she feels him take her breath away. Her emotions are all over the place. His lips are smooth as they move against hers in a dance that feels like they’ve done a hundred times before. Harry deepens the kiss, pushing her up against the door, making Y/N grab a fistful of his shirt, not wanting him to pull away. Y/N lets herself get wrapped up in all her feelings because she knows that a kiss this special means it won’t be her only one, and she finally allows all her feelings to pour into the kiss.
Y/N isn’t sure how long they spent kissing outside her door. It seems she’s lost track of time since she got a taste of Harry. “I don’t want you to go,” she mutters against his lips when she feels him begin to pull away.
“I’ll see you Monday,” he promises.
“Too far.
Harry laughs, “you can call me tomorrow when you wake up.” Knowing she likes to sleep in, he would rather not wake her up.
“Okay,” she whispers in defeat.
“Good night,” Harry takes a step back.
Y/N bites her lip and gives him a wave. “Do you want a kiss goodbye?”
Harry can’t say no.
+
Monday morning, Y/N walks in with a large smile. It makes everyone stop and stare. She makes her rounds, wishing everyone a good morning, and saves Harry for last.
“Hi, Harry.” She chirps.
“Morning,” he answers timidly.
Y/N pouts because he didn’t even look at her. She wanted to see his beautiful eyes. “So I was thinking…” she trails off.
Harry turns, giving her his undivided attention, and Y/N’s smile widens. “How does a date sound to you?”
“A date?” He echoes.
“With me,” she giggles.
“Best thing I've heard all day.”
Y/N claps her hands together, “wonderful.”
“How does this weekend sound?”
“Too far,” she teases. “Saturday?”
“I’ll pick you up,” he promises.
“Good. Good.” Y/N lingers by his door.
“Yes, love?”
Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but doesn’t look away from him. “Are we still on for lunch?”
Harry gives her a dimpled grin, “I’ve got a new book for us to discuss.”
Y/N tells him she can’t wait and walks away. Harry watches her go, and as if she can feel his stare on her, she turns around and gives him a wink. Harry knows he’s way in over his head with someone as amazing as Y/N, but he can’t wait to prove each day to her how much he deserves to be with her.
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles story#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#harry styles au#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry story#harry fic rec#harry styles fic rec#harry styles x y/n#harry styles halloween#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles writing#fic rec#harry styles pleasing
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The Business
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚.
𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞: 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞/𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬 & 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐝𝐬𝐦. 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.
𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬:
his life is starting to affect you.
𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧’𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛:
the story about how you meet.
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐭:
harry shows you what he does for work.
𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐫. 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬: ( 𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 )
harry introduces bdsm.
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐦
secrets cut wounds into the relationship.
𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞
you’re compelled to adapt to his lifestyle.
#smuttyaf#harry styles fic#ongoing story#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles smut#harry styles one shot#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#hs#harry styles imagine#harry styles fandom#harry styles fic rec#mafia au#mafia!harry#mafia!harryau#eep! i hope you enjoy this ongoing storyline!#this is my first time taking one seriously so fingers crossed:)
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sunshine (part 2)
In which Harry's a little bit nicer, and y/n is very excited to possibly, hopefully, maybe be kissed.
sunshine (part 1)
˙· .° ｡ ˚ ｡ ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡ ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °. · ˙ ‧̍̊
Y/n’s apartment is filled with a bunch of people she doesn’t know. Maddie has a bunch of people over – not really a party, but a fairly large gathering. A few of her school friends, a couple of her co-workers…. nobody that y/n is really close with, though.
That’s why she locked herself in her room, away from the music and the stuffy, smoke-filled air. She said her polite hello and everything, of course! But… she just wasn’t in the mood to hang out with Maddie’s friends. They weren’t really y/n’s type of people, and the smell of weed is giving her a terrible headache.
She bunches up her hair in her fists as she stares at the math problem in front of her. She had been able to do integrals just fine with Harry, but when you add trig into the equation? She’s thoroughly fucked. Not even The Organic Chemistry Tutor could help her work through this problem.
A knock on her door makes her jump. “Come in,” she says politely, though her brows are still furrowed grumpily as she stares at the calculus in front of her.
“S’this room taken?” a deep voice murmurs.
She whips her head around, heart fluttering excitedly in her chest. “Harry,” she says softly. “What are you doing here?”
“Maddie invited Blake,” he says, sitting down on her bed. “And Blake invited me.”
Oh. She should’ve known.
She rolls away from her desk and faces Harry, who’s making himself more than comfortable on her bed, laying down with his head on her pillow. “Smells like shit out there,” he grunts.
“Yeah,” she shrugs. She’s accepted that her apartment will always reek of weed, no matter how hard she tries to get rid of the smell. “Did you smoke anything with them?” she asks.
“No, not in the mood.” Honestly, the only reason he decided to come over with Blake was because he knew that he’d be able to go chill in y/n’s room. Hanging out in Maddie’s smelly apartment was the last thing he wanted to do on a Thursday night, but… he knew y/n would be there, sitting quietly in her room like the good girl she is. “Did you?”
“No.” She fiddles with her fingers. “I– I don’t smoke.”
He snorts. “You don’t smoke but you live with Maddie?” Maddie cannot survive two seconds without her vape. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“The smell of it gives me a headache,” she tries to explain.
“Your apartment literally always smells like weed,” he deadpans.
She blinks. “Yeah…” she trails off quietly. “If I close my door though the smell isn’t that bad.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “What are you working on?” he asks, pointing to the textbook sitting on her desk.
“Um– math.” His lips quirk up, while she pouts. “S’not making sense again.”
“Lemme see,” he says, sitting up. She looks at him for a second, not moving, but when he nods towards her ipad again she scrambles to pick it up and sit next to him on the bed.
“So, what were you going to try and do?” he asks, grabbing her pen. She’s hyper aware of how their thighs are touching, how she can practically feel the heat radiating off his body.
“Um… I feel like I need to use one of the trig rules here but I can’t think of any that would do anything here.”
“Okay you’re right… the issue is that none of your sins or cosins fit any of the rules. But you can break cos^3x down into cos^2x times cosx, right?”
“Okay…” she looks up at him like a lost puppy, still not fully getting it.
“Do you have any trig identities with cos^2x?”
“Um…” she shuffles through her notes, “ cos^2x equals 1 minus sin^2x?”
He nods his head, “yeah. So now that everything is in terms of sin, you can do a u-sub.”
“Oh,” she blinks quietly, staring down at the paper. “Why’s it so easy when you explain it?”
He shrugs, leaning back down onto her bed, “y’just need a lot of practice.”
The bottom of his shirt rises up as he puts his hands behind his head, revealing a pair of black ferns that point towards a yummy v-line. Y/n tries her best not to look, but she’s reminded of the night where she showed up to his apartment to pick up Maddie… how he’d been shirtless, his abdomen so chiseled and firm. The swallows on his collarbones, the butterfly that seemed to jump with every breath. She finds herself getting a bit short of breath as she thinks about all of the things hidden beneath his shirt currently.
That’s the thing about being a touch-deprived, romantic girl like y/n. The littlest things get her going.
He was nice to her once, helped her with her math homework and comforted her when she cried, and now her heart flutters like crazy when she sees him. Just the smallest rise of Harry’s shirt has her spiraling.
She can’t help but notice the way his biceps bulge subtly as he puts his hands behind his head, and finds herself overwhelmed with the fact that this boy – an attractive boy – was just laying in her bed casually.
She knows it’s no big deal for Harry, he’s probably just in here because the living room stinks and he needs to clear his head. But for her, it’s a lot. She never has boys in her room, has never had a romantic interaction with a boy. Hasn’t even been kissed. It’s always just very friendly – getting notes from a guy in her class, joking around with some of Maddie’s friends. She’s never had a boy talk to her any more than that.
Harry, though… Harry comes into her room and talks to her even when there’s a whole party going on outside. He kept her company when she was stranded at his apartment, he took her home and took care of her when she was drunk and emotional. It probably meant nothing to him, but the way he grabbed her ankle and told her to lie down when he was helping her into bed was one of the most tender things she’s ever experienced. He put his hand on her waist, and held her arm while she stumbled, he’d guided her through the door with his hand on the small of her waist.
And when he saw her crying at the library, he came over and talked to her. Comforted her and let her rant about her classes. He’d let her into his room and helped her with her homework, murmured soft praises to her when she got a question right, his arm brushing against hers, or his chest rubbing against her shoulder.
The stupidest little things, that are probably so insignificant for him, have been on her mind for days.
“Hey,” Harry says, snapping her out of her daydreams. She tears her eyes away from his ferns embarrassedly, hoping he didn’t notice. “What are you thinkin’ about?”
She averts her eyes, looking down at her bedsheet. “Um, nothing.”
He quirks his brows. “Nothing?”
“Mhm,” she nods her head innocently.
‘Really?” he asks again, his lip twitching with the slightest hint of amusement, sitting up on his elbows now. He raises himself up so that they’re face to face. He’s not an idiot.
She bites her lip nervously, and her heart stops when Harry’s eyes flicker down to watch. He stares at her with a strange look in his eye… a glimmer in them that she’s only ever read about in books. His eyebrows furrow as though he’s deep in thought, eyes still glued to her lips.
She wonders if she’s hallucinating when he leans in.
She thought she was being silly for starting to feel things for him – that she was just being classic y/n, crushing on a guy even though she knows she’s too shy to ever make a move. Now, with how close he is, she can see every freckle on his tan skin, every lash that frames his bright green eyes. She breathes with a tight chest, swallowing thickly as her eyes flicker between his, wide and curious. His eyes still haven’t left her lips.
Her heart stutters as his large hand makes its way to her thigh, his palm warm and smooth, gently grazing her skin. He unconsciously inches closer and closer, incapable of pulling his eyes away from her mouth.
He wets his bottom lip with his tongue, a force of habit, and finally looks her in the eye. His irises have turned a dark green, pupils dilated, and his breathing has deepened. She has no idea what’s going on in his head, but he looks serious. Deep in thought. His hand still rests on her thigh, the contact sending sparks of electricity all over her body, especially when his fingers gently start to trail upwards.
Her eyes flutter shut as she tries to take deep, calm breaths, but he’s gotten so close that she can feel the puff of his breathing against her lips, inhaling his every exhale. It makes her lightheaded. He’s so close… so, so close…
A loud pounding on the door makes y/n jump away from him.
Her eyes are blown out when she jerks them open, her heart pounding harshly with anticipation that’s been left unsatisfied. “Who is it?” she calls out with a shaky voice.
Harry hasn’t moved an inch. He sits there and stares at her, hand still on her thigh.
“Is Harry in there?” Maddie yells. “Blake is ready to go.”
He brings a hand up and tugs on her bottom lip with his thumb, then watches it bounce back into place, hypnotizing himself with the sight. Y/n, unable to get any words out, sits there and watches him as he stares at her lips.
“Hellooo?” Maddie obnoxiously yells again.
Harry’s nose flares and he shuts his eyes, frustratedly pulling himself away from y/n. She says nothing, still in a daze, watching as he leaves her bed. He stands and runs a hair through his messy curls, before heading towards the door and opening it. Maddie stands in front of the door with her fist raised, ready to knock on the door again.
“Calm down,” he says, eyeing her coldly. Maddie rolls her eyes and walks away to tell Blake that she found Harry.
He turns around for a moment and glances at y/n. “See ya,” he says.
She blinks, her hand coming up to touch her lips, searching for some confirmation that this was real and she hadn’t imagined it. “Bye,” she nearly whispers, breathless.
The door shuts with a click and she finds herself alone with her thoughts. Her math homework sits abandoned on her bed, and will probably remain untouched for the rest of the night.
˙· .° ｡ ˚ ｡ ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡ ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °. · ˙ ‧̍̊
Finally, y/n has Harry all to herself.
She’d been dancing around him all night, constantly catching his eye from across the room in a game of cat and mouse. He watched her from the corner of the room he was stationed in with his dark eyes, a teasing smirk on his face. He knew what she was doing – trying to distract him. It was working.
He watched her as she mingled and talked, watched as she sipped on her drink, watched as she weaved her way through the passes of people in her apartment, pushing past the hot bodies and sweaty skin until she disappeared in her room.
He followed her in, less than a minute later.
She hears him walk into the room, the sound of him turning the lock and his heavy footsteps approaching her. A shiver runs down her spine when his hands grab her shoulders from behind, goosebumps rising on her arms almost instantaneously. His firm front pushes against her back, toned stomach pressed against the curve of spine.
His fingers are warm and gentle on her shoulders, comforting yet teasing at the same time. He doesn’t hold her firmly – his featherlight touch more tantalizing than any other form of contact. These light, delicate brushes of his skin keep her on her toes, never knowing what to expect next. She holds her breath as his fingers travel from her shoulders, down the length of her arms.
Suddenly, she feels his lips against her ear. She can’t help the soft, aroused breath that leaves her as his lips skim the shell of her ear. He chuckles, low and taunting, and she can feel the deep reverberations of his chest against her back.
“I’ve been waiting f’this,” he murmurs softly. His warm breath tickles her ear, sending waves of pleasure straight down to her core, and his hands have migrated from her arms to her hips now. He grips them, fingers digging into the soft flesh there, and pulls her back, grinding her into his front. She swallows a whimper down, eyes fluttering shut. A hard bulge presses against her ass, and she can’t resist the urge to press back on it, wriggle her hips even though Harry’s holding her still. “You’ve been teasing me…” he presses a kiss right underneath her earlobe. “Playing all innocent when I know you’re actually filthy.” Another kiss, and another kiss, trailing his lips down the curve of her neck.
She lets out a pathetic, shaky whimper, and it makes him chuckle tauntingly. “Your head is just filled with dirty thoughts, isn’t it?” Her knees go weak as he wraps a hand around her throat, tilting her head to the side so that he can look at her. “Bet you’re just dying for me to fuck you.”
Her eyes are wide and round, and her entire body turns into jelly. The only reason she’s standing right now is because Harry’s holding her up. She can’t get any words out, pathetically wrapped around his finger. She looks up at him with a pleading gaze, begging him to do something… anything…
The sound of her 8 AM alarm yanks her straight out of dreamland.
Her eyes are bleary as she frantically looks around her bed, gathering her bearings. She has to triple check that Harry isn’t anywhere in her room – looking at every corner and patting around her sheets as well – before she can confirm that it was all a dream.
Oh gosh. This is like the third time this week!
She doesn’t mean to be having these dreams. It's a rather embarrassing situation for her and she honest to god would much rather just read a couple of steamy romance books about fictional vampires to get the horniness out of her system, instead of having repeated wet dreams about a very real Harry.
They make her feel icky because, like– isn’t it a bit disrespectful to be having such dirty thoughts about someone who’s just been helping her with her math homework and potentially also kissing her had they not been interrupted? Like what are the boundaries there? You can’t really ask someone for consent to having wet dreams about them… but it’s not like she was consenting to those dreams either! She can’t control what her subconscious mind decides to stir up for her nightly dream!
She tries to logic it out – how would she feel if Harry was having wet dreams about her? Well… actually the thought of it makes her a little bit excited, cos that would mean he likes her, right? Ugh, no, she’s getting distracted!
It’s all very typical horny virgin behavior. Ever since her almost kiss with Harry, her mind has been in shambles. Her first issue is trying to wrap her head around the entire thing – had Harry actually wanted to kiss her? She hadn’t made that up, right?
She’s replayed the night a hundred times in her head. Remembers exactly how his hand felt on her thigh, how he’d stared at her lips, how their eyes had fluttered shut, how their noses brushed… all the things she’s read about in her books! All the ingredients for a first kiss!
How tragic that it’d been interrupted. She thinks that’s why her brain has been overly active this past week – her subconscious has been trying to fulfill the insatisfaction she felt when she jumped away from Harry, just seconds before their lips touched. It feels like she’s been edged over and over again and been denied an orgasm five times – but the orgasm is her first kiss and she’s being edged by Maddie, who stole that kiss away by knocking on her door!
She flops around in her bed frustratedly, smushing her face into her pillow with a sad groan. What if Harry doesn’t wanna kiss her the next time he sees her? What if this was a one time opportunity? She doesn’t want to sound desperate… but she really wanted to kiss Harry! She’d be really sad if it was just a whim of the moment kinda thing.
But also… if it wasn’t just a one time thing… if he did actually want to kiss her… well how was she gonna end up in the situation to be kissed by him again?
She’s thinking about this way too hard, way too early in the morning. And she’s uncomfortably wet from her dream.
She needs to get herself sorted out.
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The chair in front of y/n screeches loudly as it’s pulled from under the table she’s sitting at. She jumps at the sound of it, having been too engrossed in her book to be aware of what’s going on around her. When she looks up, she finds Harry standing at her tiny table in the campus coffee shop.
“Can I sit here?” he asks, his jaw tight. He’s wearing a gray Kendrick Lamar hoodie with the words DAMN. written in bold font across the front, his curly hair messily hidden underneath. All the other tables in the shop were taken (it tends to get pretty busy at noonish when everyone needs somewhere to sit and study), and Harry needs somewhere to sit before his next lecture.
She nods, eyes wide like a baby sheep. It’s quite jarring to just randomly see the guy you’ve been having sexy dreams about – especially for someone like y/n who apparently can’t be normal about having a crush or having an almost first kiss. She hopes she’s acting normal enough to not raise any suspicion.
Trying to not get distracted by his green eyes and pretty pink lips, y/n looks down at the table, but finds herself instead staring at Harry’s hands. He has nice hands, she thinks to herself. The cross tattoo on his left hand compliments his tan skin nicely, and he has these thick knuckles that she just wants to run her fingers over. In one of his hands he holds a coffee cup, and even though she and him both got a medium sized coffee, his drink looks smaller, dwarfed in his massive hands. His thumb is fingering the lid of his drink mindlessly, and she remembers how that same thumb had touched her lips just over a week ago… how he’d tugged on her bottom lip and hypnotized himself with the sight of it bouncing back into place. And while she’s on that train of thought, she can’t help but remember how his hands portrayed such a significant role in her dream last night. Hadn’t she imagined them being wrapped around her throat–?
Harry clears his throat. Y/n glows with heat. She has absolutely no capability of being normal around him. “Sorry, what?” She hadn’t heard a word he’d said in the past minute, too caught up in her own thoughts.
He smirks. Is she always this distracted? “Just asked how it’s going.”
“Oh! Oh, yeah– good, I’m good,” she closes the book, folding the corner of the page she’s on as a bookmark. “How about you?”
He shrugs. “Just got out of class. Needed a coffee.”
“What’d you get?”
“Just a black coffee.”
She can’t stop herself from wrinkling her nose, “Ew.”
He quirks a brow, “Well what’d you get?”
“Vanilla latte with oat milk.” Yeah. She would be an oat milk girl.
Considering their recent frequency in seeing each other and his newfound… fondness towards her, he doesn’t find it difficult to start picking and prodding at her, getting to know her. He realizes Blake was right – she wasn’t a super duper shy girl, she probably had just been scared of him. Once he started talking to her and smiling every once in a while, it seems like she loosened up. What used to be painfully awkward conversations have now become free flowing and casual.
He picks up the book she was reading and reads the cover. “Book Lovers by Emily Henry. Awfully fitting for you.”
She furrows her brow, already offended. She hates it when people make fun of her books – especially boys who make fun of her for reading romance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a book lover, aren’t you? Can never find you without your nose in a book.”
She relaxes. “Oh… yeah,” a soft chuckle escapes her. “Yeah, I guess I’m a book lover.”
“You think I’d like this one?” he asks, flipping through the first few pages.
“Um… maybe.” She can’t imagine Harry being a huge fan of her soft romance books. “Are you a reader?”
“God, no,” he puts the book down. “Not smart enough for that.”
Her jaw drops. “You are totally smart, Harry! Way smarter than me!” she exclaims.
“M’just good at math,” he shrugs, “You’re little miss smartie, with your color coded notes. Reading your books for fun.”
She grows shy. Part of her thought that Harry thought she was stupid – not the over-emotional-girl-who-cries-too-much kind of stupid, but rather the kind of stupid that makes you wonder how she even got into this school because she’s doing so bad in math.
It was a massive hit to her girlboss mentality when she had to ask Harry for help, and even though Harry never actually made her feel dumb when answering her questions… she just had this mean voice in the back of her head that constantly nagged her, convincing her that Harry thought she was a stupid girl who should just give up and drop out. And ignoring that voice is really hard, so… it was just nice to hear that he didn’t think she was a stupid little baby. It made that mean voice in her head shut up.
“Um… by the way. My next calc midterm is next Friday. I was wondering if, um…” she tucks her hair behind her ear nervously.
He fills in the rest for her. “Do you want to revise together this weekend?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” she says bashfully. “Your tutoring is super helpful.”
“You can come over on Saturday,” he sips on his coffee. “No trouble.”
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“Is this right?” Y/n shows her work to Harry, and he nods. They’re both on his bed, except Harry’s lying down with his head on a pillow, scrolling through tiktok, while y/n’s hunched over her ipad. She’s been doing practice problems for the past three hours, asking Harry for help every once in a while. That's how it’s been most of the night – her study session is mostly just him checking her work to make sure she’s not doing anything funky and giving her hints if she’s stuck.
She’s studied a lot in the past two weeks and luckily doesn’t need Harry to be guiding her through every problem, which makes her really happy. And she’s only gotten a couple of the practice problems wrong! Some of them were particularly tricky and had her stumped, but that’s why she has Harry. He helped her out of roadblocks and kept her motivated. Without him here, she probably would’ve given up after the first question that she didn’t know how to solve.
“You should take a break,” he says.
She’d refused to take any breaks since she got here – determined to finish the practice test that her professor had posted while she had Harry next to her to help. Now that she finished all the problems, she locks her ipad and puts it on Harry’s bedside table. She leans back on one of Harry’s pillows and copies Harry, holding her phone above her face. Except instead of scrolling through tiktok, she opens up her kindle app and starts reading.
He sees the tiny font on her screen from the corner of his eye. “Reading?” he asks.
“Mhm,” she shuffles around on his bed, getting comfortable.
He thinks it’s kind of cute that she’s always reading. “Is it the same one as last time? Book Lovers?”
“No, I finished that one yesterday! This is by the same author though. S’called Beach Read.”
“What’s it about?” he turns off his own phone and sits up, turning to look down at y/n. Her hair is splayed across his pillows, and her eyes glimmer softly in his bedroom lighting.
She feels a little shy describing one of her favorite books to Harry – she’s often been ridiculed by her friends for being so lovey dovey and reading her silly romance books. But he seemed genuine when he asked. “Um– there are these two writers. The girl writes romance and the guy writes like these serious fiction books. And they’re kinda rivals.”
He hums. “Let me read a little bit,” he looks down at the screen of her phone. “I tightened my thighs around the sides of his body–” he reads aloud, before she yanks her phone out of his sight.
“No!” she yelps, turning her phone off and practically throwing it across the room. “You are not allowed to read it!”
He laughs, a fully amused belly laugh, and the sound is beautiful but she doesn’t allow herself to revel in it due to her embarrassment. “What are you reading?” he giggles.
“Oh my gosh,” she hides her face in her hands.
“Didn’t expect you to be reading such dirty stories,” he teases, “I thought you were a good girl.”
“It’s not all dirty!” she defends herself. “It’s– it’s sweet! It’s a love story… it’s romantic.” Her voice gets quiet near the end.
Harry’s laughter bubbles down and he’s left with a smirk on his face, while y/n lays in front of him, an embarrassed pout on her face. “M’only teasing,” he says as he reaches a hand out to rest on her thigh, not wanting her to look so sad. “Read whatever you want. Seems like a cute book, maybe I should pick it up, hm?”
Her mind goes a little blank when his hand meets her thigh, his palm warming her skin once more – just like that night he’d almost kissed her. “Y-yeah, you might like it,” she clears her throat. “S’one of my favorites.”
That same look glazes over Harry’s eyes – that dark look, as if he’s deep in thought.
She swallows thickly. Could this be it? Her second chance at a kiss with Harry?
She pushes herself up on her elbows, more alert. Her palms feel sweaty and she finds her fingers nervously toying with his comforter. A million thoughts are racing in her head as she searches Harry’s eyes, flickering back and forth, trying to see what he might be thinking of. He’s so hard to read. She feels like she’s drowning in his eyes.
Almost as if he can read her thoughts, he leans forwards. She hopes she doesn’t look like an over-eager puppy, but her eyes light up and practically beg him to come closer, to just kiss her! He smiles to himself a bit, and obliges.
With y/n laying on his bed, propped up by her elbows, and Harry already having been sat up on the bed, he doesn’t need to move that much closer for their faces to be aligned. He’s leaning over her, one hand holding him up, while the other hand comes up to her cheek.
She gasps when his large palm comes up to cup her face, his palm on her jaw and fingers sliding into her hair. He inches closer and closer, his eyes fluttering shut when his nose brushes against hers ever so lightly. She can feel the puff of his breathing against her lips, breathing in each of his exhales as she tries to stay calm. She forces her eyes shut, her entire body alive with butterflies.
He wets his bottom lip with his tongue, a force of habit, and nudges his nose against hers. She tilts her head to the side. He teases her for a second, gives her the chance to pull away by just grazing their lips together teasingly, and feels her sharp intake of breath at the contact. He can’t help but smirk against her lips.
With her eyes closed, she’s hyper aware of how it feels. The way his curls brush against her face… the warmth of his palm as he tilts her head upwards… the wetness of his lips as he finally… connects them… in a kiss.
This was it. Her first kiss.
There’s not one thought in her head, a stark contrast to how she’d spent countless sleepless nights overthinking the mechanics of kissing someone. She’d always worried that she’d mess it up, that she’d freeze and wouldn’t know what to do.
But falling into the gentle caress of Harry’s lips is easy. Her nerves spill, her muscles relax, and she just lets herself melt against Harry’s lips. He suckles on her bottom lip gently, folds their lips together, pulls away with soft clicks just to reattach a second later. She sighs dreamily into his mouth and lets herself fall back into the bed, her head against his pillow. He doesn’t let their lips disconnect, following her down and climbing on top of her so that one of his legs is stationed between her thighs.
She wonders if all kisses are this magnificent, or if it’s just Harry. Is it normal to feel your heart stuttering in your chest, or feel electricity flowing through your veins at just the touch of someone’s lips? Would she always lean her face into the palm of his hand, and let herself relax in the bliss of feeling his lips against hers?
It’s wonderful – a head-spinning, heart-fluttering, electrifying kiss.
Harry’s hand that isn’t holding himself up comes down to rest on her thigh, goosebumps rising under his touch. His kisses start to grow more pressured, inhaling sharply and breathing heavily against her, tongue licking at the seam of her lips eagerly. His nose bends against her face as he tilts his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tastes the sweet chapstick on her lips. Her skin is warm and soft and plushy underneath his touch, and her lips are addictive.
He uses his grip on her thigh to hike her leg up, fitting his hips between hers and sliding his hand up and down her leg tantalizingly. He can feel her losing her breath, so he forces himself off of her lips and starts kissing down her neck. He skims his lips down, presses wet, hot kisses on her throat, his every breath making her core clench.
She squeezes her eyes shut, eyes rolling into the back of her head, and takes heavy breaths, chest rising and falling shakily. Her hands come up to grab onto him – just hold onto him in any way – and the first thing her hands land on are his biceps. His firm, toned biceps, that are flexing as he hovers above her. In an effort to feel more grounded, she squeezes her fingers, but it just ends up making her even more lightheaded because god he’s so strong and muscular and he’s kissing her right now!
She’s overwhelmed and her head is spinning and it feels like she’s in a dream, an amazing dream that feels so good and that she never wants to end – she can smell his aftershave and his shampoo and his overall yummy boy smell, and her lips are tingling with the aftermath of his kiss. She’d always imagined what it would be like to have her neck kissed and sucked on by a boy and now that it’s happening it’s better than she could’ve ever imagined, and she’s so sensitive, and it’s just different to have a real person touching you and kissing you all over, especially someone that she’s majorly attracted to and–
Harry presses his hips into her center and, wow, if it isn't the most arousing thing she’s ever experienced. Excitement and anticipation fill her veins… but then a trickle of doubt starts to filter in. She’d only just had her first kiss, was she ready to go any further than that?
‘H-Harry,” she says, but it’s more of a moan because his fingers squeeze her hips and he’s kissing right underneath her earlobe right now and it’s sending shivers down all over her body. “M-maybe we should stop.”
“Hm?” He pulls away from where he was buried in her neck, his eyes blown out and lips slicked with a mix of their spit.
“I-I’m not ready to have sex with you, if that’s what you want.”
“That’s okay,” he says, licking his lips. “I could just eat you out.”
And, god, if that doesn’t make her whimper. “I– no, I um…” she stammers over herself.
He smiles. “What is it?” he murmurs, an amused lilt to his voice.
“I… I haven’t done any of… that.” She swallows, looking at him nervously. Her heart, which had once been racing with excitement, now pounds with apprehension. This is the first time she’s been in this position and she’s feeling so vulnerable.
It’s extremely scary and nerve-wracking and Harry’s silence is not doing anything to help her feel better.
“You’re a virgin?” he asks after a beat.
She nods. She feels insecure under his gaze, and even though she’s fully clothed, she feels totally exposed.
He laughs. “Are you really?” he asks again.
Her eyes flash with hurt. She just shared something extremely intimate with him, shared her very first kiss with him… and he was laughing at her?
She feels her heart drop, and her cheeks flame with insecurity.
“Um–" she swallows around the lump developing in her throat. "I should go,” she says, barely over a whisper. She puts her hands on his chest and pushes him away, sliding out from underneath him and climbing out of his bed. Grabbing her ipad, she shoves it into her backpack, along with her notes that were scattered along his desk and her phone lying at the foot of his bed. Her cheeks burn hot and her heart is aching in her chest.
“What?” He doesn’t challenge her when she pushes him away, but he stares at her with his eyebrows furrowed, confused at the sudden mood shift. “What happened?”
She doesn’t answer. Her throat is hurting, the painful lump a tell-tale sign of the tears getting ready to fall.
“Y/n?” he asks again, getting off his bed and walking towards her. All amusement has left his face, brows furrowed in a concerned manner. She shrugs him off when he approaches her.
“Don’t.” She feels embarrassed, her mind only filled with insecurity. He was making fun of her for being a virgin, teasing her. As if she wasn’t already embarrassed enough about it herself.
She’d planned on calling Maddie to come pick her up when she was ready to go, but it doesn’t matter anymore. She leaves his room hastily, before any of the tears can fall, and nearly runs out of his apartment.
She’ll walk home.
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OMG!!! HOPE U GUYS LIKED ITTTTTT HEHEHEHE :-) part 3 is up on my patreon already and will come to tumblr next saturday (augsut 5) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u think and give her a rb and a comment i LOVE U GUYS SO SO MUCH!!!!
sunshine (part 3) - in which y/n just wants to get this whole virginity thing out of the way, and Harry needs to grovel a bit before she forgives him.
sunshine masterlist
#harry#harry fic#harry smut#harry styles fic#harry styles smut#harry styles fanfic#harry x reader#harry styles x reader#harry styles#harry styles writing#fic rec#harry fic rec#harry styles fic rec
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flower [tattooH x Innocenty/n]
synopsis: harry's the boy next door, he's also a tattoo artist aannd y/n's sexual awakening because she's an innocent virgin with a flower shop.
word count: 8.6k
content warnings: smut (fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N)
read part 2 here
my first imagine !! i hope u enjoy it !! i enjoy it here very much !
. . .
Y/N had been having a terrible week.
She owned a flower shop called 'Sweet Juniper' which had been hers for almost an entire year. It had been her dream to share her love of flowers with everybody so when she finally saved enough money to set up a shop, she worked tirelessly to make it the best possible floral shop the town had ever seen.
People would put in special requests if they needed flower arrangements for special occasions or others would just come by to just lift their mood a little bit if they were having a tough day. Y/N loved her customers and spent so much time chatting throughout the day all whilst tending to her plants.
But this week was not fun.
The shop next door had been empty for a long time now - ever since Y/N had set up shop. She lived in the flat above the shop so it was ideal not to have to handle any neighbours. But the past few weeks, decorators and construction workers had been making a lot of noise - fixing up the empty shop - which meant someone was moving in.
Y/N hadn't met them yet so she wasn't sure what the shop next door would be. The town was relatively quiet so she expected a bakery or maybe a clothing boutique. Only yesterday, with the shop all set up and ready to go, she found it to be nothing of the sort.
It was dark and music pulsed through the walls of her flower shop. The heavy bass made it sound like someone was trying to fight their way through the floorboards she had painted a very, very light pink.
Her customers had complained especially the older bunch. They had trouble concentrating whenever they tried to talk to her or hear her advice on what the best flowers were during the current autumn season.
So after a not-so-fun week and frequent visits to the corner shop to top up her headache medication, Y/N made the decision to confront her new neighbour and tell them exactly how she felt. She wasn't going to let her flower shop fail because of an inconsiderate, noisy fool.
Y/N flipped the sigh from 'open' to 'closed' and took off her apron which had her name in swirly handwriting embroidered onto the breast pocket. She took three deep breaths and mentally went through her speech. She wouldn't be unkind but she would be fair.
"You can do this Y/N," She said to herself before she exhaled and opened the door to walk five steps over to her next-door neighbour.
She hadn't seen the shop properly since the decorating was completed so was immediately struck by how dark it was in comparison to her own shop. It was painted black with illustrations and pictures of people's tattoos set up in the shop window.
The pavement was lit up in the darkness by the red neon lights coming from inside the shop. Everything about it was so different to her baby pink and white flower shop.
The sudden thought of turning back and going upstairs to her apartment almost tempted her enough to turn away but she knew the problem would not be resolved if she were to sit by and do nothing.
Her Mary Jane heels tapped against the pavement as she came to stand in front of the door. It seemed as though the shop was still open, so she pushed the door and stepped inside.
The smell of tobacco and musk and ink hit her senses as she closed the door behind her. The heavy bass of the music was now pounding through her ears. The nerves were rising within her and turning back seemed much more tempting now.
She spun on her heel and reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by someone clearing their throat.
"Are you here for a tattoo?" His voice was deep, husky and... pretty.
She turned around and was met with a tall figure standing in the doorway to the back of the shop. His arms were by his side and he was wearing a black, fitted shirt with black trousers and low cut doc martens with red laces. His face was illuminated by the red, neon sign on the wall with the words 'Styles INK' written in a grungey font.
"T-tattoo?" She gulped, the script she had rehearsed over and over again was nowhere to be found like the words had silently fallen from her brain, through her nose and slipped from her mouth before she had time to speak them out loud.
He walked to the front desk, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. "We don't take walk-ins this late at night if that's what you're after."
The tone of his voice made her tremble in her heels. She curled her fingers into a fist and tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. "I-I'm not here for a tattoo. I-I'm actually from next door."
His head lifted up, she could finally see the colour of his eyes were a pale green and his hair was curly and brunette. "Ahhh," He dropped the pen he was fiddling with on the desk, "The flower girl."
She huffed, "Yes, that would be me."
"M allergic to flowers." He said.
"W-what? Why would you set up shop next to a flower shop then?" She asked.
"Only place that offered a space with an apartment." A breath slipped past her lips.
He was not only her shop neighbour but her neighbour neighbour too.
Well, this just made things a bit more awkward.
He came in front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Y/N saw every inch of the skin on his arm littered with tattoos and even caught a glimpse of his ring-clad fingers. "Listen, if you're not here for a tattoo then why are you here? I need to close up so I'd appreciate it if you were quick with whatever it is you came here for."
Y/N swallowed her nerves, "Your music is too loud a-and it's driving my customers away."
"What was that?" He wanted her to repeat herself.
"Y-Your music, it's much too loud and my customers are c-complaining." She wished she didn't stutter but at least she got what she needed to say out.
"My music?" His eyebrows scrunch up.
"Yes." She nods.
"What about your music?" He retorts, "s all I can hear when I'm upstairs."
She immediately blushes and wonders how long he has been staying in the apartment upstairs. Y/N was so used to not having neighbours that she hadn't thought to turn her music down or take a break from her lonesome karaoke nights.
"That's different."
"If I have to hear you sing to that broken-hearted, bubble-gum pop princess every night then you can't complain about me playing my music like I have." He argues.
"B-but I don't play it in the day like you do! It's so loud! It is - hey quit laughing!" She huffs when he snickers at her.
"M sorry, you're just so little." He laughs. "Maybe that's why I haven't seen you since I've moved in."
Y/N crossed her arms, "I'd just appreciate it if you turned your music down a little, just so my customers can shop for their flowers in peace."
He says nothing. Instead, his eyes scan her face and then fall on the rest of her. She was wearing light blue jeans and a pink, cosy sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a white, silk ribbon and her heels were still on her now aching feet.
He smirks, "Alright, I'll turn my music down but you have to do the same. I don't want to hear you sing about Romeo and Juliet or running out of the woods at 11 o'clock at night when I'm trying to relax."
She turns pink but luckily the red light hides the true colour of her cheeks, "Fine." She huffs and turns on her heel, too embarassed to say anything else.
"It was nice to meet you, flower." He says and she swears she can hear him smiling.
Her entire face heats at the nickname.
***
The next day, Y/N walked downstairs to her flower shop and prepared for a new day. She spent the rest of her night after visiting the stranger next door, quietly listening to music in hopes he would reciprocate today.
She hadn't seen him since last night and part of her was grateful for that. He was tall and intimidating and covered in tattoos but his voice was just so...nice that she couldn't seem to get the thought of him out of her head since she walked out of his tattoo shop. It was embarrassing to admit and Y/N was awfully bad at hiding her emotions so she hoped that would be the last time she'd speak to him face to face.
When she flipped the sign on the door to 'open', she held her breath as she waited for the sound of heavy, rock music coming through the walls only to find complete silence. She smiled and mindfully tapped herself on the back for being brave enough to go over and stand her ground.
Her customers were happy with the change too. They stayed and chatted with Y/N for a while, bringing home their baskets of flowers. The day had been much more successful than the past week had and she was thankful things would finally get back on track.
After cleaning the shop at the end of the day, she walked upstairs to her apartment and immediately decided to get into her new cute pyjamas she had ordered from Hollister - long trouser bottoms and a cute tank top both covered in the same pink, ditsy floral print.
She made herself some dinner and snuggled up on her tiny couch with her pet cat, Marshel, nestling to the side of her. Y/N hummed in delight when she made the decision to re-watch her favourite Harry Potter movie- it was the best film for the autumn weather.
Ten minutes into the movie sounds of people speaking and loud music sounded through the walls of her apartment. "Oh please no," She looked up at the ceiling, praying that someone out there would put her out of her misery.
It could only be her new neighbour, the tattoo artist, the one with the nice voice.
She pressed her ear against the door of her apartment and from the racket of people speaking and how loud the music was, she knew he was having a party.
"It's going to be a long night Marsh." She sighs, picking up her kitty and carrying him to bed.
At 2 am, Y/N was still awake. The party was still going and the music had yet to quieten down.
Y/N had been tossing and turning all night. Tears in her eyes as she tried to sleep but couldn't because of the loud noises coming from next door. At this rate, she'd only get four hours of sleep before she had to be up again for the busiest day of the week at the shop.
She couldn't handle it anymore. She flipped her duvet off and swung her legs over the bed. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she stumbled for the door.
At this rate, she was so tired she didn't care how she looked. She just wanted the quiet.
She flung her front door open and already found herself outside the tattoo artist's door. She knocked but the music was so loud, the only thing she could do was invite herself in.
The door opened and suddenly she was in a whole new world. There was cigarette smoke and a strong stench of alcohol. It was dark but red LED lights lit the room. People were laying on the floor or sitting around chairs or dancing in the empty spaces. There must have been about thirty people but with how tiny the apartment was it felt like much more.
Y/N took a deep breath and began her mission to find the source of where the music was coming from. Everyone was much taller than her which made it harder for her to push past people, especially in their drunken state.
"Excuse me please," she mumbled.
"Flower," his voice made her freeze in place.
She stilled and spun round on her sock-covered feet, making a mental note to throw them in the trash when she got home.
The person standing in front of her looked the same, wearing the same all black outfit he wore yesterday. She could see the illustrations of his tattoos a little better this close and she could also see the anger that covered the features of his face.
"Y-you." She said through parted lips, unable to hide her fear or shock.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a corner of the room. He placed his hand on the wall behind her and covered her with his body like he wanted to hide her away.
"The m-music it's too loud and I-I can't sleep." She said, nearing on tears.
"You and your loud music." He muttered, "It's Saturday night. Shops aren't open on a Sunday."
"Mine is." She said.
"What?"
"I open my shop on a Sunday. I do work shops for little kids whose parents have to work on weekends and for elderly people who get a little lonely." It was her favourite day of the week but now she was dreading it because of the lack of sleep.
His expression seemed to soften but he rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."
"I just need to sleep for four more hours and then you can carry on doing whatever you're doing." He smirked.
"You've never been to a party before flower girl?" She shook her head and yawned.
Harry's smile fell and he sighed. He looked around at the party and then at the sleepy girl in front of him. "Fucks sake." He muttered and wrapped an arm around her.
Y/N's eyes widened when his hand rested on her shoulder. He tucked her into his side and quickly manoeuvred past everybody.
"Is that your new girl Styles?"
"Nice one, H."
"Have fun Styles."
"Ignore them." Harry told her as he reached their front door.
"Is that your name? Styles?" Y/N realised she had yet to ask what his name actually was.
"S Harry. You call me Harry." He says and she smiles at how normal and soft his name was compared to his dark and grizzly stature.
She hadn't realised what he was doing until he opened the door to her apartment. She gasped, suddenly wide awake and highly alert considering he was now in her very messy, untidy apartment.
"W-what are you doing?" She ran to her sofa and picked her blankets up from the floor before grabbing her bowl of popcorn from the coffee table that was littered with books and magazines she was halfway through reading.
Harry's eyes darted around her small apartment. The corner of his lips flinched into an almost smile when he saw the pastel colours littered around the place. It was so her - cute and cosy.
"You wanted to sleep." He said, "M helping you sleep."
Her mouth opened and closed in shock, "Helping me sleep?"
"Mhm, I've got these," He pulled out some earbuds from his pocket, "They're noise cancelling. Can't hear a sound when you've got them in your ears."
She looked at them in intrigue, "Where's your room?" He wondered, already walking in the direction of her bedroom like he'd been in her apartment many times before.
"My room's a little untidy," She tried to get past him so she could block him from coming into her room but he was much too tall.
"Don't care flower, just helping you out." He walked into the messy bedroom and paid no mind to the state of the floor. She'd never had a man in her room before so wasn't sure exactly what to do. Her apartment seemed so much smaller from his presence alone. "Get into bed, love." He pulled out his phone.
"O-okay," She said and tucked herself under her blanket.
It was strange to let a person she barely knew into the confines of her room but she was too tired to care and something inside of her trusted him.
He crouched beside her, resting an arm on her mattress. "Here put these in," He handed her the headphones, "Can you hear me?" He asked but received no reply, instead, Y/N giggled.
"I can't hear you Harry!" She laughed and something weird happened in his chest.
He smiled, "Tha's good." He murmured and put on a song he knew she would like.
Her heart stopped beating in her chest when the gentle piano music began to play. An instrumental of 'Cardigan' by her favourite singer whispered into her ears as he played it on a low volume.
"Sleep now flower." He encouraged.
"M name's Y/N." She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut, "You can call me Y/N."
"Y/N," He whispered back and the name seemed to unlock something deep inside of him. He said it once more for good measure before leaving her there with the music still playing.
***
Y/N woke up the next morning with a phone that was not hers resting right by her head. She had managed to fall asleep for four hours thanks to the man who she now knew as Harry. She felt as though last night was a fever dream and Harry had been a guardian angel, granting her sleep at last.
She could have slept in for another four hours but the shop would not run itself and she had many workshops on today that a lot of people had signed up for. She grabbed Harry's phone and made a mental note to give it back to him before she went to open the shop.
She made herself a good breakfast and fed Marshel as well, before getting dressed into a grey mini dress with a cute white collar and an encrusted black bow. She tied her hair back into a half up, half down and fastened it with a black bow to match her dress. She wore the same black Mary Jane heels and a bag with her packed lunch inside.
When she left her apartment, she listened out for any loud music coming from Harry's apartment only to be met with silence. She knocked three times- his phone in her hands- but no one answered.
She'd come back later, she thought. Maybe he was also catching up on some much-needed sleep.
Her first workshop of the day was with a group of children.
Their parents worked weekends and some of them were from the orphanage that they had signed up to help them develop new hobbies. Y/N knew them all by name and loved teaching them how to grow their own tomato plants and arrange flowers with cute bows.
An hour before lunch, she had a class with a group of mothers whose children had just left home. Most of them came because they needed a little company on the weekends when not a lot was going on at home or they wanted to pick up a new hobby.
In the midst of her basket weaving session, Y/N heard a phone ring. She glanced at the phone still on the front desk and saw the screen lighting up. "Excuse me ladies," she slid off the chair and walked over to Harry's phone.
Mike Supplier was the name on the screen. She wondered whether or not it was important and if she should answer it just in case. The phone stopped ringing for a brief moment until the name lit up the screen again.
"Seems important, Y/N." One of the ladies said.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and walked to the back room, pressing the green button to accept the call. "Fucking finally!" A gruff voice speaks on the other end, "I've got your stash when do you want it?"
"Excuse me?" Y/N blushed, not use to such aggressive language.
The person paused, "Are you Styles' new lady? Listen can you put him on the phone? I need to speak to him urgently."
Y/N was in shock, "I'm not his lady! I'm his neighbour."
"Well, whatever you are could you just pass the phone to him?"
"Give me a second," She huffed, entering the shop again and turning towards the ladies who were in deep conversation, "Ladies, I just need a moment to go next door." They nodded.
Y/N could hear Mike Supplier cursing over the phone even as she had it by her side. She noticed Harry's shop was still unopened so went upstairs instead.
She knocked on the door of his apartment repeatedly until she finally heard footsteps coming towards the door. His door swung open, "Can I help you flower?" Her eyes widened.
He stood in the doorway with nothing but grey sweatpants and socks. His bare torso was littered with tattoos and his brunette hair was clipped with a tiny claw clip.
"Your p-phone," She held it out to him. His eyebrows furrowed like he had a lot of questions as to why she had his phone but he took it from her anyway and held it to his ear.
"Yeah, yeah shut up." He spoke. Y/N could still hear Mike Supplier talking on the other end. "Come by this afternoon. I'll wait outside the shop and don't wear that dodgy fucking hat this time."
The conversation ended and Y/N stood awkwardly in front of him. "Well I should go,"
"Wait," Harry stopped her "Did you steal my phone from me flower girl?"
"N-no! You left it in my apartment." She argued.
"Oh yeah," he grins like he was thinking back to being in her room last night, "Your lips go all pouty and you snore when you sleep you know that? 'S cute."
"Hey," she huffed, "I do not snore!"
"Whatever you say baby." Her cheeks warmed at the new nickname he had accidentally added to the seemingly growing collection.
"W-well who was that anyway. He was a little rude." She mumbled.
"You spoke to him?" He arched a brow, "was he rude to you?"
"He swore at me,"
"Dick." Harry muttered, "He's my supplier."
"Oh like for the shop?" She asked. Harry could have sworn he was having palpitations from how innocent she looked.
"No baby," he smirked, "a different kind of supplier."
"Oh," she said, still not fully understanding what he was getting at, "Well I better get down to the shop. My class is waiting for me."
"Sure I'll come with you." He grabbed a sweater and his jacket from the coat hanger.
"Wait, what? No."
"I'm bored and I want to hang out with you." He shrugs, "I don't see how that's a problem."
"You want to hang out with me?" She couldn't make sense of it.
"Mhm," He shut the door of his apartment behind him, "Lead the way, flower girl."
Y/N argued with him as they walked back downstairs. She tried to push him out of the shop before he could even step foot inside but she was too small for his 6ft frame and he gently grabbed her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, stepping into the shop.
All eyes turned in their direction. Y/N blushed and stuttered as she said, "L-ladies, this is my neighbour."
"Hi, I'm Harry." He said from behind.
The ladies looked confused and then concerned and then suddenly they were grinning ear to ear, slipping out of their seats to welcome their new guest.
"Oh Harry, you look as old as my boy! It's so lovely to meet you." Mildred, one of the elder ladies said.
"Nice to meet you too." He spoke in a warm, almost flirtatious way.
Y/N stood there in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Kathy and Lucy had already sat him in between them both and got him the things he needed to weave a basket.
"Are you interested in flowers Harry?" Julia asked.
He looked across the table over at Y/N whose cheeks seemed to be a shade of red they'd never even been before. "Only one."
"Oh well Y/N's an excellent teacher. We're making hanging baskets to plant daffodils in them for the spring."
"Hmm I guess I've come to the best place to learn then." His eyes remained fixed on Y/N who defeatedly picked up her basket to show Harry exactly how to make one himself.
"How are you so good at this?" Y/N whispered in awe as Harry finished his basket.
"These hands are good with fiddly things." He says.
"Oh that's wonderful Harry!" Kathy exclaimed, "You could take over Y/N's job. Might help her out and she can finally have a much deserved rest."
"S that right? You tired flower?" Harry murmured when he saw Y/N's eyes opening and closing as she leant against the desk.
"Not tried at all," she lied but Harry seemed to see right through her.
"Hmm," he frowned which immediately had Y/N standing straight and trying to disguise her exhaustion a little better.
"You hungry?" A tall shadow loomed in front of Y/N as she sat at the desk, processing payments for her classes and labelling the baskets for the ladies to take home.
She looked up and saw Harry, his voice now a familiarity after the last almost twenty four hours since she had met him. "A-a little." She decided not to lie this time since apparently, she was much easier to read than she thought.
"I've got food upstairs, wanna come up?" He asks.
"A-Are you sure?"
"C'mon little flower, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't mean it." With a nod, Y/N locked up the shop for lunch and followed Harry up to his apartment. When she stepped inside, it was completely different to how it had been last night.
It was clean and tidy. A few boxes were lying on the carpeted floor of his open living room here and there, but for the most part, it was pretty neat. Y/N's eyes were immediately taken by the prints hanging up on the wall.
"These are incredible." She gasped, feeling particularly fond of a line drawing of a woman.
"It's my mother," He stood next to her, looking up at the drawing with her.
"You drew it?" She asked, wide-eyed.
"Mhm," He hummed.
"Wow, no wonder you're a tattoo artist," She glanced at the intricate tattoos littered on his arms.
"Ever thought of getting one yourself?" He asked.
"N-Not really, I'm no good with needles." She said, rather sheepishly.
He smirked, "Let's get some food in that tummy."
Twenty minutes later, Y/N and Harry sat on the small two-person couch eating sandwiches and a fruit salad they had prepared together in Harry's even smaller kitchen. Y/N giggled as Harry threw a grape into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.
"T-tell me about your tattoos," Y/N insisted after taking a bite out of a strawberry. Harry's eyes looked down at her lips and back to her big, doe eyes. "What does this one mean?" She questioned, pointing to the words written in Hebrew.
"M' sisters name," He starts, "And that says 'Can I stay?'"
"Hmm, you have a lot of hearts." She said, fingers lightly touching the human heart on his arm.
"I have a lot of love." He grins, cheekily, like he knew the line was cheesy but wanted to use it anyway. He was glad he did from the smile it had formed on Y/N's face.
Y/N hadn't realised how close they had gotten until she felt his breath on her neck. Her voice wavers slightly as she tries not to think too much about it, "And what about this one," She points to the rose, her fingers tracing the petals.
"I did that one myself," He murmured, lips close to her ear.
"You did?" She said but it came out more as a whisper. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, her brain turning to mush and all her thoughts suddenly turning into Harry.
"Mhm," She glanced up and his deep, green eyes were already boring into her. Her eyes darted down to his lips and then back up again. "You're pretty," He mumbled, loud enough so she could hear.
She shook her head, "I-I don't think so," She was suddenly flustered and confused and wondering why her brain was not acting the way it usually did.
"I know so," His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and she shudders when his fingertips brush against her cheek. Slowly his head inches forward and the nearer he gets it feels as though more oxygen leaves the room. "Relax," He whispers, touching her hand, "You're okay flower girl."
"H-Harry, I-I've never kissed anyone before." She admits, embarrassment flooding her.
"What?" He furrows his eyebrows.
"O-oh, it's just that... I've never been k-kissed before."
"By anyone?" She nods. "Impossible." He whispers.
"We can stop if you want to," He says, his voice gentle and comforting.
"No," She wraps her small fingers around his wrist before he pulls away, "I-I want to,"
"Want to what?" He smirks, "You've gotta tell me baby."
"I want to k-kiss you," She blushes, it's all she seems to do around him.
"Cute," He murmurs before his lips press to hers.
Y/N's not sure what to do at first, her eyes are open and shock courses through her, but Harry's lips move against hers and he breathes, "Relax flower," He insists and she does.
Her eyes flutter shut and she mimics his movements. What he gives, she gives right back and a small whimper leaves her when he kisses her even harder. She starts to lose her breath with how long they kiss for but she's far too deep, floating too much, to pull away. She grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in closer, a groan eliciting from somewhere deep inside him. "Baby," The name escapes his lips and a shiver runs through her.
With panting breaths, she pulls away and so does he. Her face is flushed and his lips are pink, "You okay?" Is the first thing he asks, receiving a nod. "I think 'm a little bit obsessed with you." He confesses.
"M-Me?" She couldn't believe what he was saying.
"Don't think I've ever wanted anything more," He looks away like being vulnerable is a foreign thing for him.
"Why?" She can't help but ask.
He shrugs, "Sometimes it just is."
She thinks on his words before replying, "Can we kiss again?"
Harry chuckles, "Kiss me all you want flower."
. . .
Y/N had a permanent smile on her face the next day as she went back to work. People asked her what was making her so happy and she was constantly finding things to lie about instead of speaking the name of the tattooed boy next door.
An hour before lunch, the postman came to deliver her new ribbons for the bouquets and accidentally dropped off a package meant for Harry. Y/N couldn't help but smile at his name written on a brown box.
"Give me a second ladies, I'm just going to pop next door." Y/N grinned, ignoring the knowing looks of the ladies she was teaching.
As Y/N walked next door, her confidence seemed to shrink with every step. She realised she had yet to go to Harry's tattoo shop when he was actually working and she knew she would stick out like a sore thumb once she took a step inside. She was wearing a lilac dress and white heels, of course, she was going to stand out.
The bell rang as she stepped inside and a few customers looked up, some of them doing a double take at the small girl. Music played through the speakers but it was a lot less quiet compared to the first day Harry's shop had opened.
Footsteps walked on the wooden floorboards and Harry walked out from the back room. His eyes caught sight of Y/N and his frown immediately turned into a smile. He held his arms out for her and she quickly walked into his embrace. "Hi flower," He murmured into her hair.
"I came to drop off your package," She held out the box to him when he let her out of his arms.
"Oh," He took the package from her, "That's all?"
She bit back a smile, "Mmm, I may have something very important to tell you," She gave him a not-so-subtle wink.
He grinned, almost wickedly, "Well, do follow me this way to tell me this very important thing," He led her way from the waiting area and somewhere closed off and hidden from everywhere else.
When they were alone, he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up onto a countertop, knocking things over. "Harry," She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Shhh no more talking baby," He said before kissing her lips that he spent all night dreaming about. Their mouths were wet and hot against each other as they made out in a closet hidden away from Harry's customers.
His hands slid down her back and around her waist, pinching her hips, "Did you wear this dress f' me baby?" He murmured, the tone of his voice sending shivers up Y/N's spine.
"Wanted to be pretty for you." She told him. She had spent all morning trying to find a nice outfit to wear, not only for work but for when she saw Harry too.
"Fuck," He groaned against her lips, "Where have you been all my life?"
Y/N felt like a teenage girl getting all flustered and hot over a boy. She'd never experienced being with someone in this way before and now she had a taste for it and couldn't get enough of him. She had left Harry's apartment yesterday in a daze and she felt like she was still floating from the high of her first kiss.
He stood in between her legs and she subconsciously rolled her hips against him. She gasped in both shock and at the feeling of him against her, "You're okay baby," He soothed her, sensing her confusion.
"Feels good huh?" He pulled her hips into him again and she felt a moan bubble in her throat. "Have you ever touched yourself Y/N?" He wondered.
She froze, "N-no," She confessed, embarrassed.
"Nothing to be ashamed of baby," He comforts her, his words soothing the insecure part of her. He kissed her lips softly, "Can I visit you this evening?"
She nods without even thinking about it, "Please,"
He smirks, "Please baby? Please? What are you asking for?"
She didn't know, her mind was foggy and all she could see was him, "Everything."
His eyes darkened but his smirk never left, "'M polite little flower."
"Harry," She whined, burying her face in his neck.
Harry laughed and cupped the back of her with his hand, kissing her forehead, "I'll come visit tonight and you better be wearing those cute pyjamas," He knew she was smiling because he could feel her lips against his neck.
That evening after Y/N had closed the shop, she ran upstairs to her apartment and kicked off her heels. She ran around her living room, hiding things she didn't want Harry to see and flinging dirty laundry into the washing basket.
She walked into her very pink bedroom and pulled out her pyjamas, happy to finally be wearing something comfortable. She spritzed some of her favourite perfume and rubbed vanilla lotion into her skin.
Y/N sat on her sofa with Marshel seated by her feet on the carpeted floor. She switched on the TV and watched a few episodes of friends whilst continuing to finish her knitting project - she was making a blanket since one of the ladies from her group was pregnant and would be giving birth very soon.
She fought to keep her eyes open as she waited for Harry to knock on her door. His shop was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago so she assumed he'd be here by now.
Slowly, an hour had gone by and Y/N was getting worried. Her mind spun with insecurities and a sudden fear that something might have happened to Harry. She placed her knitting project on her coffee table and patted Marshel on the head. She walked to the door and slid her sock covered feet into her brown UGG boots.
The shop was not its usual LED red colour when she came to stand in front of the window, instead it was neon blue. Y/N frowned when she heard music playing from inside and checked to see whether the door was open.
Her hand pushed the door handle, the door swinging open and the muffled music suddenly became coherent. She could hear voices coming from the back room where Harry tattooed his customers.
Walking towards the sound, Y/N eventually caught the sound of Harry's voice amongst the group of people chatting. Her shoulders relaxed at the thought of him being here, at least she knew she'd be okay if he was there with her.
Turning the corner, her eyes landed on Harry with two other tattooed men, smoking something that - in Y/N's opinion - smelt a little strange.
Harry must have sensed her presence as he turned his head and caught sight of her hiding behind the corner wall. He smiled, "Hey flower,"
"Hi," She murmured, feeling embarassed.
"C'mere," He held out his arm for her and she scurried towards him, attaching herself to him by snuggling her body into his side. He put an arm around her, kissing her forehead. "I thought I was meeting you upstairs?"
Y/N frowned, "You took too long,"
He smirked, "M impatient girl," He nodded towards the two men he was talking to, "Y/N, these are 'm friends, Mike and Dan."
"Mike supplier," Y/N whispered, finally putting a face to the name of the man she had spoken to on Harry's phone.
He was tall and bald with a beard and looked to be in his forties. Like Harry, he also had tattoos but not nearly as much. Beside him was Dan who looked closer in age to Harry, maybe a little older. He was blonde but wore a cap on his head and a silver chain around his neck.
After Harry had finished smoking with his friends, he said his goodbyes and led Y/N upstairs back to her apartment. "What were you smoking? It smelt funny," Y/N asked,"
Harry fell back onto the couch and pulled her down with him. She lay on top of him, the smell of the smoke still lingering on his clothes. "'S just a bit of weed." He confessed.
Y/N gasped, "Weed? Is that legal?"
Harry looked at her amused, "Not here but it doesn't do much harm to me, been smoking it for ages." He twirled a piece of hair around his finger, "Does that bother you?"
She thought about it but the idea didn't really seem to phase her. As long as he was being safe and was using it in a healthy sort of way, she didn't mind. "N-no, not at all." Harry's smile widened into a grin. He didn't hesitate to kiss her, feeling her soft lips which had recently become his new obsession. They were so soft and red and kissable and made just for him.
Y/N didn't want him to stop kissing her whenever he did. She loved the feeling of her eyes fluttering shut and all of her senses just filling up with him. Harry pulled away, still cupping her cheek in his hand. Y/N's chest heaved up and down against him as she tried to catch her breath, "Breathe, flower." His heart ached when she looked up at him with swollen red lips, trying to catch her breath. "Lose your breath a little bit huh?"
"A little," She huffed.
"You're too cute."
Y/N kissed him again once she had caught enough air again. Harry sat up, pulling on the roots of her hair as her legs wrapped around him so she was straddling him. She whimpered, tugging on the fabric of his t-shirt.
"What do you want baby?" Harry mumbles against her parted lips.
"Take it off," She whispers, pulling on his shirt.
Harry does as he's told, pulling his shirt up over his head and revealing his muscular, tattoed torso. Y/N's eyes widened. She'd never seen something so beautiful, he looked as though he was one of those marble statues in a museum. "Eyes on me baby," Harry smiled, pushing her chin up with his finger so her eyes were looking directly into his. "What now?"
"I-I-I don't know," She blushed, losing her confidence now that they were no longer kissing.
"We don't have to do anything you don't want." He looked at her with a soft gaze.
"I-I don't want to disappoint you." She admits, her insecurities coming to the surface.
"Couldn't disappoint me baby, ever." She smiles, feeling secure in his words and his hold. Y/N leans forward and rubs her cheek against his chest. Harry's hands go beneath the tank top of her pyjamas, brushing her bare back. "If it helps I've never done this before."
She's shocked but she tries to hide it, "W-what do you mean?"
"Been intimate with someone."
She smiled.
She really, really liked him.
. . .
For weeks after, Y/N was obsessed with two things.
Her flower shop and her tattooed boyfriend next door.
When she wasn't working, she was with Harry, either cooking in his apartment or cuddling together on the couch in her living room. Harry had also developed a new taste for basket weaving, joining in on Y/N's Sunday classes with the elderly ladies in the morning.
In the short time they had known each other, Y/N had come to learn that Harry wasn't a morning person but he never missed a Sunday class even when he was exhausted from the busy day before at the tattoo shop. He would stumble downstairs with dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes in sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting in his seat between Mildred and Julia as they fussed over him.
Y/N had also grown a love for kissing Harry at every opportunity. She'd take many five-minute breaks, walking over to the tattoo shop and kissing Harry in the cupboard or visiting him in the alleyway behind the building where they'd make out against the brick wall. Even Harry had an addiction to his girlfriend's very kissable lips, sneaking out of his shop in between appointments to smother her in kisses in the storage cupboard.
"Hey Marshy little fur ball," Y/N bit back a grin when she heard the door of her apartment open and the familiar gruff voice speak to her little cat.
She swung her legs over her bed and paused the movie she was watching, running to the front door and leaping into his arms, "Hi flower," Harry murmured, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo.
Y/N nuzzled her face against his jumper and squeezed him tightly, "Hi Harry," She sighed, blissfully.
"Wanted to come see ya, hope tha's okay." He kissed her quickly.
"Course, I was watching a film in my room." She tugged on his hand and lead him to her bedroom.
Harry had spent nights in Y/N's room before. Sometimes he would ask her if it was okay if he took a nap in her bed whenever he finished work early because it was much comfier than his. She'd find him curled up under her blankets, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest with the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.
Harry removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in only sweatpants, before he crawls into bed and pats the spot beside him. Y/N turns on the movie but knows that neither of them has any plans of watching it.
With the amount of kissing they had been doing, Y/N hoped she had gotten a lot better. She realised Harry would often make small, quiet noises whenever she did something he liked, like tugging on his hair or sticking her tongue in his mouth.
It wasn't long before they were making out again on her bed. Her leg hooked around his hip and her hands in his hair as he gripped her waist, every now and then he would squeeze her ass remembering the first time he did it and how much she loved it from the soft moans that left her.
Y/N thought that kissing Harry was the best thing in the entire world but what she didn't know was that Harry had plenty more up his sleeve.
His hand slid from her waist and down to her bare thigh - she was only wearing pyjama shorts since her apartment was pretty warm. He squeezed her softly, "Can I feel you baby?" He asked.
Y/N froze, not sure how to react. "I-I-"
Harry cupped her cheek, "I know," He already knew what she was thinking before she even said anything, "We can carry on doing what we're doing if you prefer. It's no rush."
"N-no," She grabbed his wrist in both her hands. Y/N was a virgin but she wasn't afraid... Just inexperienced and that made her a little wary. But with Harry, she knew she wanted to allow that part of herself to him. Maybe not the whole thing but a little something.
"Y-you can feel me... I-if you like." She said, awkwardly.
Harry chuckles, "What about if you like, hmm?" His fingertip traced circles on her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps.
"I-I would l-like that p-please." She whispered.
Harry grinned, "Only because you're so polite sweet girl."
Harry's arm slides between her legs and hooks his fingers around her pyjamas bottoms to pull them down her legs. Y/N inwardly praised herself for shaving the night before yet she was pretty sure Harry wouldn't mind either way. Harry tuts when he sees her underwear, "Did m' little flower get all wet from kissing on daddy?"
She felt the air leave the room and her body heat at the nickname. It was so dirty and yet she felt herself aching from his words. "Y-yes," She breathes.
"Yes what baby?" He kisses up her thigh.
"Yes daddy," She murmurs.
Harry eyes darken as he looks down between her thighs, "My good, polite girl." He pinches the flesh on her thigh and she feels her chest heave. Y/N gasps for air when his fingers trace the fabric of her underwear and her heart races even more when he moves her underwear to the side to see a part of herself no one had ever seen before.
"Fuck me," He whispers under his breath. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."
"R-really?" Y/N blushes, her cheeks hot.
"Don't think I've ever seen something so pretty."
"T-thank you, daddy." She whispers the last part but it doesn't stop the bulge from growing in Harry's sweatpants.
"Have you always been this needy when we kiss baby?" Harry murmured in her ear as his fingers part her pussy. He tries to stop himself from groaning at the slick wetness that coats his fingers.
Y/N gasps at the new feeling but is immediately overcome by pleasure as Harry begins to move his finger back up to her clit, "Harry," She whimpers.
Harry's quick to pull his hand away, "Nuh uh baby, that's not my name."
Y/N's head was all dizzy but she managed to reply, "Daddy, please," She whines.
"Barely even touched you and you're already whining," He tuts before rubbing his thumb over her clit and making small, slow circles. Y/N whimpers at the new sensation of intense pleasure. "Does that feel good flower?" He asks, nipping her ear as he murmurs against it.
"S-so good- so good daddy, so, so good." She babbles as he continues to tease her clit with his thumb.
"Who'd have thought I had such a naughty girl hmm?" She arches into his touch as he moves his finger in a certain way. She wonders how she managed to go on for so long without feeling something so blissfully delightful.
"Put your hand here baby," Harry instructs, reaching for her hand that wasn't currently scrunching the duvet, and placing it flat over the top of his, "Let me show you how to touch yourself. Watch daddy," Y/N's eyes look down to see his gold ring-clad fingers drenched in her wetness, his tattooed hand moving in circles as her rubs her clit. "This is how I want you to touch yourself when you think of me baby and when you're good, I'll make your perfect, little hole feel good too." Y/N gasps and clenches when he brushes a finger against her hole.
"I-I'm good-Please, I'm good," She mewls and her hand grips his wrist instead. She uses it as leverage to twist and turn into him, the pleasure overwhelmingly good she can't help but hide her face in his neck.
"You are good," He kisses her forehead, "My good girl." She nods at his praise, eyes shut.
Harry forces her legs a part and continues to pleasure her in a way she didn't know about until today. She writhes and moans beneath his touch as he whispers dirty things into her ear. "I want you to cum baby, think you can do that?"
"Mhm," She sighs, already feeling the bubble of pressure in her tummy. "F-feels - feel's s-so-"
"Feel good m'love?" He coos, "Cum f' me. Cum f' daddy, wanna see you soak my hand."
At his words, Y/N whimpers as she becomes increasingly sensitive the more he circles her clit. Harry feels as though he's about to explode as he watches her cheeks flush pink and she grinds her pussy against his hand as she rides out her orgasm. "That's it my little flower, so good." He praises her, feeling her shudder as she finishes coming down from her high.
She's panting heavily as Harry slides her panties back into place. "You okay?" Harry checks, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N nods and instantly feels embarrassed, hiding herself in the crook of his neck. Harry chuckles, "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."
"You're lying," Y/N says, her voice muffled against him.
"Never gonna lie to you flower, never." He promises.
Y/N removes herself from her hiding place and looks up at him. Harry's heart bursts in his chest when she sees her sleepy, blissful gaze. He wonders where this girl has been all his life and how he managed to go this long without her. He was pretty sure he was falling in love with her but that was a conversation for another day.
"W-what about you?" Y/N looks down and sees the very noticeable bulge in his trousers.
Harry shakes his head, "Not today," He smiles, "We have plenty of time to experiment some more but think you've had enough experimenting for one night."
"Me too," Y/N curls into his side, not bothering to put her pyjama bottoms back on. "Having sex is exhausting."
"We didn't even have sex, silly girl." Harry laughs.
"Felt like it," She mumbles against him.
"I'm that good huh?" He grins, cheekily, "Just you wait baby,"
"The best," She slurs, yawning, "M so tired."
"Yeah? You sleepy baby?" He kisses her forehead. "Get some sleep m'love," He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his chest.
"I like you very much Harry," She whispers, sleepily.
"I like you very much too." Harry replies, holding her close.
psa don't let strangers into your room... actually don't let anyone into your room
#harry styles#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles imagines#harry styles x reader#harry styles au#harry styles fanfic#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles fic rec#harry styles x you#harry styles fic#harry styles smut#harry styles imagine#one direction#writing#harry styles writing
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solace* (famous!harry x masseuse!y/n)
summary: harry is in need of some unwinding and destressing, and he finds the perfect masseuse for that. they end up growing much closer than the relationship they began with, but it's never that easy, is it?
words: 6.4k (she's long)
warnings: smut in this one: p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), cursing, dirty talk, fingering, creampie.
"Just lay down on the table and relax. I'll take good care of you."
Y/N tried to keep her voice steady and professional as she greeted her new client, the one and only Harry Styles. The famous former athlete turned singer was lying face down on the massage table, a towel draped over his lower body.
Y/N had been a masseuse at this high-end spa for two years, but she had never worked on someone so famous before. She was intimidated but determined not to show it. Treating Harry just like any other client was the only way she could get through this.
"You're the expert," Harry's muffled voice came from the face cradle. "I'm in your hands."
Y/N gulped at the unintended innuendo. Get it together, she scolded herself. This is strictly business.
She warmed up some lotion in her hands and began working on Harry's muscular back and shoulders. Almost immediately, she could feel the tightness and knots from years of intense athletic training.
"You've got a lot of built-up tension in here," she commented, digging her fingers in to loosen a stubborn knot. "What sort of athletic background are we working with?"
"Footie, if you go by my English roots," Harry said, sucking in a sharp breath as she worked a particularly tender spot. "Played striker on an academy team as a kid before my interests shifted to music in my late teens."
Y/N raised her eyebrows, impressed. She had no idea Harry was such a talented athlete on top of his musical skills. Somehow that made her former crush on him even more intimidating.
As she moved down to his lower back, she tried to keep her touches clinical and impersonal. But she couldn't help noticing how toned Harry's body was, the muscles rippling beneath her hands.
Stop ogling him, you're being completely unprofessional! She gave herself another firm mental rebuke.
For a while, the only sounds were Harry's occasional groans as Y/N dug into his tight knots and the relaxing spa music playing softly in the background. But eventually, Harry broke the silence.
"You know, you seem a bit nervous around me. Is it because I'm....well, me?"
Y/N felt her cheeks burn. She should have known he would pick up on her awkwardness.
"I'm just trying to stay focused," she mumbled, unable to keep the embarrassment out of her voice entirely. "I don't want to slip up and disappoint an important client like yourself."
To her surprise, Harry let out a low chuckle. "Love, I may be famous but I'm just a regular bloke like any other. No need to be nervous."
His voice was warm and full of humor, putting Y/N more at ease. She realized she had been building him up as some intimidating celebrity in her mind when really he seemed down-to-earth.
Feeling emboldened, she decided to open up a bit. "To be honest, I may have...had a bit of a crush on you back in the day. Your music was a big part of my teen years."
"Is that so?" Harry sounded both flattered and amused. "Well, I'll take it as a compliment from a pretty lady like yourself."
Y/N felt her traitorous cheeks heating up again. Were they...flirting now? She couldn't tell if he was just being charming or if there was real interest there.
She tried to keep things professional as she moved on to his arms and legs, though her lingering shyness made it difficult. Harry seemed to sense it, not pushing things but keeping up his friendly banter that had her laughing in spite of herself.
By the end of the ninety minutes, Y/N was disappointed for the massage to be over. Some of the intimidation had faded, replaced by an easy rapport. Almost as if...they could really be friends, or more, not just client and masseuse.
As Harry redressed and prepared to leave, he paused and gave her a heart-stoppingly charming smile. "Same time next week? I'll need to keep these knots at bay."
Y/N couldn't resist smiling back, a warm flutter in her belly. "I'll be here. It's a date."
Wait, did she actually just say that?! She wanted to cringe at her awkward choice of words.
But Harry just chuckled easily, not seeming bothered at all. "A date it is, then. I look forward to it."
As he sauntered out, Y/N exhaled a long breath. Suddenly, her job had gotten a lot more...interesting.
Over the next few months, Y/N looked forward to Harry's weekly appointments increasingly more. They had fallen into an easy, teasing back-and-forth during their sessions peppered with plenty of flirtatious banter.
At first, Y/N firmly kept things within professional boundaries, no matter how strong her crush was growing. Harry may be a laid back, regular guy, but he was still a client at the end of the day.
However, the more she got to know the real Harry beyond his famous persona, the harder it became not to develop deeper feelings. His sharp wit, endless warmth and care for those around him, and genuine humility all endeared him to Y/N enormously.
For his part, Harry seemed to be growing quite fond of Y/N as well. He playfully requested she work extra hard on his "problem areas" and loved to tease her about her technique and bedroom eyes whenever she was really concentrating. Y/N would pretend to be flustered, but secretly loved their charged back-and-forth.
One week, Harry didn't show up for his usual appointment. Y/N tried not to feel too disappointed, figuring he must have just been busy. But when he missed his spot the following week as well with no notice, she began to worry something was wrong.
"Everything okay with Harry?" she couldn't help asking the spa receptionist. "I haven't seen him for his appointments lately."
The petite blonde receptionist gave her a sly grin. "Haven't you heard? There was an issue with his latest music release, so he's been dealing with that whole mess the past couple weeks."
Y/N frowned, concerned. Harry hadn't mentioned anything about work issues. Then again, she realized they had become so comfortable with each other that she always viewed him through a friend's lens rather than a client's now.
Making a snap decision, Y/N pulled out her phone and drafted a text to the number Harry had given her months ago, just in case she ever needed to reschedule his slot.
"Hey there, just checking in! Missed you the past couple weeks and wanted to make sure everything is alright?"
She hit send before she could overthink it, her heart fluttering nervously. This was wildly unprofessional to text a client like this, even if Harry had become more of a friend really.
To her surprise, Harry texted back almost immediately.
"Y/N! Was just thinking about you, funny enough. I'm so sorry for going MIA, it's been a madhouse with this new album mess. Let me make it up to you with dinner this weekend?"
Y/N's eyes widened as she re-read the text. Was Harry...asking her on a date? Or was he just being friendly and suggesting they grab a bite to catch up? She wasn't sure, but her heart was pounding either way.
Throwing caution to the wind, she typed: "It's a date. Looking forward to it!"
If her massages with Harry had been growing increasingly charged lately, Y/N could only imagine how electric an actual date with him would be...
The rest of the week dragged by interminably for Y/N as she counted down to her dinner with Harry. She agonized over what to wear, settling on a slinky red dress that walked the line between casual date and fancy night out perfectly.
When Saturday evening finally arrived, Y/N felt uncharacteristically nervous as she pulled up to the chic restaurant Harry had chosen. What if she had been misreading everything and this was just a friendly dinner after all? She didn't want to make things weird if that was the case.
But the second Harry opened the door to greet her, looking unfairly handsome in a slick black button-down, her worries melted away. He was giving her the same heated look he got when she was working out a tight knot in his muscles - unmistakably attracted and intrigued.
"You look positively stunning, love," he murmured, taking her hand and giving it a delicate kiss. "Though I don't know what I was expecting, you always manage to blow me away."
Y/N felt her face heating up at his unabashed flattery, her pulse racing. She couldn't resist giving his bicep a playful squeeze.
"You're not looking too bad yourself, popstar. Now are we going to eat, or did you just invite me out to shamelessly flirt?"
Harry grinned wickedly. "Why can't we do both?"
The evening passed in a blur of delicious food, sinfully good wine, and the most scintillating conversation Y/N had ever experienced. She and Harry swapped stories, teased and joked, and delved into surprisingly deep philosophical discussions, all without missing a beat.
By the time they were splitting a decadent slice of chocolate cake for dessert, Y/N felt more relaxed and giddy than she had in years. Despite all her nervous buildup, the date was turning out perfectly.
"You know," Harry began conversationally as he licked some icing off his fork in a way that made Y/N's mouth go dry. "When you started as my masseuse, I'll admit I figured you were just another pretty face hired by the spa. Starstruck and nervous around me because of my image and all that rot."
Y/N felt her cheeks warm at his words, but Harry grinned teasingly to show he meant no offense.
"But you proved me absolutely wrong in the best way possible, darling. Your skill and your spirit both blew me away. You're always so professional, but with this amazing warm heart and sharp wit just beneath the surface."
Y/N couldn't help smiling bashfully at his earnest compliments. "Well, you hardly made it easy to stay focused and impersonal, Mr. Cheeky Flirtmaster. I'm just glad we were able to become...friends."
She said the last word tentatively, wondering if Harry felt the same growing sense that they had become something more than that recently. His heated gaze and body language said as much, but she didn't want to assume.
Harry seemed to pick up on her hesitancy, his green eyes crinkling at the corners fondly.
"Y/N, I think we both know our 'friendship' has evolved into something deeper, at least for me. I've fancied you for months, maybe longer if I'm being honest with myself. You're bloody brilliant - smart, talented, caring, with a rocking body that drives me spare in the best way."
He reached across the table to take her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. The tender intimacy of the gesture made Y/N's heart skip a beat.
"What I'm asking is...would you want to make this official? Give us a real go as more than just mates?"
Y/N felt like the breath had been knocked out of her lungs. She had imagined hearing those words from Harry's lips more times than she could count. But now that he had actually said them, she was temporarily stunned into silence.
Seeing her speechlessness, Harry chuckled warmly. "No need to answer right this second, love. I know it's a lot to process coming from your formerly famous client-turned-mate. Just think it over, yeah?"
Y/N finally managed to find her voice, emboldened by the caring warmth in Harry's eyes. She turned her palm over, lacing their fingers together decisively.
"You don't have to give me time, Harry. I've been crazy about you for ages if I'm honest. Of course I want to give us a real shot. I can't think of anything I want more."
The brilliant smile that spread across Harry's face sent tingles down Y/N's spine. He brought her knuckles to his lips, brushing a soft kiss there.
"Then it's official. We're a couple now."
Y/N felt giddy, like the words were a dream. Her and Harry Styles, the man she'd fancied for years, were entering a relationship together. What were the odds?
"Should we, uh, keep things professional at the spa still?" she asked, suddenly wondering if their new situation would make things weird.
To her surprise, Harry shook his head adamantly. "Actually, I was thinking of finding a new masseuse. I wouldn't want to put you in an awkward position having to work on your boyfriend's body every week, tempting as that sounds."
He gave her a heated look and Y/N felt a rush of arousal, imagining all the new layers their massages would take on now.
"Fair point. I don't think I could keep things totally professional anymore either," she admitted with a coy smile.
Harry signaled for the check, keeping Y/N's hand linked with his posessively. "Then it's settled. I'm all yours now, darling. Though fair warning, I'll expect my massages in private from here on out."
The tone of his voice made Y/N shiver pleasantly in anticipation. Oh, this romance was going to be incredibly fun.
***
Over the next few months, Y/N felt like she was living in a wonderful dream. She and Harry were inseparable, their bonds of friendship strengthening into an unbreakable foundation as their passion grew.
They went on romantic dates, attended glamorous celebrity events, and spent long cozy nights together at Harry's place. Y/N felt herself falling harder and harder for the kind, charismatic man who never failed to dote on her or cheer her on.
One evening, Harry surprised her by having a limo pick her up from work at the spa. Y/N raised her eyebrows in amused confusion as she slid into the sleek black car, wondering what her doting boyfriend was up to now.
To her delighted shock, Harry was waiting inside wearing a dashing tuxedo. He held out a rose to her with a warm smile.
"My love, you look as breathtaking as ever. Are you ready for our night on the town?"
Y/N laughed giddily, feeling like a princess in a fairytale as Harry showered her with kisses. "You'll have to tell me where we're going, love!"
"Well, first we have dinner reservations at the city's most exclusive new restaurant. And afterward..." Harry trailed off teasingly before pulling a pair of tickets from his inner jacket pocket. "I've arranged for us to have a private vip loge at the opera!"
Y/N's jaw dropped. She knew Harry took great pride in planning thoughtful, romantic gestures, but she was blown away by this grand occasion. The evening was straight out of a storybook.
"Harry, this is...I can't even put into words," she breathed in amazement. "You are the singularly most incredible, thoughtful man in existence. How'd I ever get so lucky?"
Harry just grinned boyishly, giving her a wink as the limo pulled away from the curb. "You deserve all of this and more, darling. Tonight is just a start."
The rest of the evening passed in a blissful whirlwind. Y/N and Harry sipped gourmet cocktails as candles flickered between them at the restaurant. Their heated looks and brushing footsies beneath the table made the anticipation crackle deliciously.
After the stunning five-star cuisine, Harry surprised Y/N again by hiring a violinist at the opera to serenade them privately in the vip loge while the show played out on stage. He held her close as they swayed to the rich, emotive music, looking into each other's eyes adoringly.
By the time they arrived back home in the limo, Y/N could barely keep her hands off her romantic prince of a boyfriend. She attacked his mouth hungrily as he lifted her into his arms, stumbling inside as they continued to devour each other.
That night was a blur of frantic lovemaking, tearing at clothes and tangling in the bed sheets as release was desperately chased between them. Y/N had never felt so thoroughly worshiped and cherished as when Harry was passionately laying claim to every inch of her body, branding her as his own with his scorching caresses.
"You're everything, Y/N," he groaned into the slick skin of her neck as she writhed beneath him. "My whole bloody universe, all the stars in the sky. Nothing means more to me than you, my perfect girl."
After, when the frenzied haze cleared, Harry held Y/N with indescribable tenderness like she was the most precious thing in existence. Which to him, she absolutely was. Her hands stroked through his sweat-dampened chestnut locks as he pressed fervent kisses to her collarbones, her sternum, everywhere his full lips could reach.
"How did I ever get so lucky?" he murmured, more to himself than her as he gazed up at Y/N reverently. "My entire world in these arms."
Y/N had no words, rendered speechless by the depth of love emanating from her man's bright green eyes. So she simply held him closer, letting her touch express everything her heart was too overwhelmed to put into phrases.
Of course, there were still hints of Harry's internal struggles with fame and the immense pressures of his career. The more Y/N got to know him intimately, the more she saw the tightly-wound tension that still crept into his muscles and posture frequently.
It killed her to see Harry in pain or overwhelmed, dealing silently with the weight of Hollywood's demands. So she made it her mission to take care of him, just like when she was his masseuse but in more intimate ways now.
After an especially grueling day of meetings and recording sessions, Y/N would draw Harry a hot bath infused with relaxing essential oils. She would gently undress him, unable to resist pressing soothing kisses along the protesting knots in his shoulders and back. Harry would let out deep rumbles of pleasure at her therapeutic touch.
One draining evening after he had done promo interviews all day followed by a high-energy concert, Harry came home to their penthouse utterly spent. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion and his mouth was drawn into a tight line, shoulders hunched under the weight of his weariness.
Taking one look at her love in such a depleted state tore at Y/N's heartstrings. She quickly sprang into action, knowing just what he needed to recharge and find his center again.
"Go have a long, hot shower, babe," she murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Harry's furrowed brow. "I'll take care of everything else."
While Harry dragged himself to the bathroom, Y/N set about creating the perfect soothing atmosphere in their bedroom. She dimmed the lights to a warm golden glow and lit a few spicy aromatherapy candles. Then she pulled out her professional massage table and arranged it with all her favorite oils and lotions.
By the time Harry emerged from the steamy bathroom wearing nothing but a plush robe, Y/N had the space utterly transformed into a private spa oasis. Soft nature soundscapes played lightly in the background, blending with the flicker of candlelight to create an ambiance of pure tranquility.
Harry's brow unfurrowed slightly as he took in the scene, a small smile playing at his lips. "You're too good to me, darling," he rumbled in that gruff, sleepy tone Y/N adored.
"Mmm, not possible," Y/N assured with a soft smile, helping Harry shrug off his robe so he could climb onto the table completely nude.
She warmed up some of the aromatic sandalwood oil between her palms before beginning her sensual ministrations along the perfect terrain of Harry's back and shoulders. His tight muscles instantly began loosening under her skilled touch.
Harry let out a deep, relieved groan as Y/N's strong hands found each knotted snarl and gently worked them loose. He practically melted into the table, boneless and pliant beneath her.
"S'why I love you so much," he slurred, the profound tension seeping from his body. "Always know just how to take care of me, dove."
Y/N hummed in contentment, leaning down to press a line of soothing kisses along the dips of Harry's spine. Between her mouth and her fingers spreading hot oil into every bunched muscle group, he was soon utterly liquid and relaxed.
This went on for almost two blissful hours, Y/N taking her time to reverently cover every last inch of Harry's body in her healing touch. At one point she gently turned him over to tend to his chest, abdomen, and the handful of other areas he accumulated strain.
By the time she was finished, Harry was borderline unconscious - eyes hooded, face perfectly lax, breaths coming in deep and even pulls. Y/N trailed one last stroke down the miles of inked and toned skin he had exposed to her. Her beautiful boy, wholly at peace once more.
Pressing tender kisses to each of Harry's closed eyelids, Y/N carefully covered him with a plush duvet before slipping out of the bedroom. As much as she would love to stay and watch over him, she knew he needed to fully surrender to restorative sleep now.
Y/N headed to the kitchen, deciding to prepare one of Harry's favorite home cooked meals for when he woke feeling replenished and ravenous. As she moved around the space chopping vegetables and searing chicken, her mind couldn't help drifting to thoughts of the wonderful man in the other room.
She felt so unutterably lucky to be the one person in Harry's life allowed to take care of his weary body and soul in such an intimate way. All the fame, fortune, and success in the world was meaningless to Y/N, compared to earning his unwavering trust and being able to soothe away his struggles whenever they arose.
When Harry finally padded into the kitchen a couple hours later, he looked noticeably refreshed and at peace. There was a soft, dazed expression playing on his features as his bright eyes landed on Y/N in an oversized shirt cooking away.
"There she is," he rasped in that deep, gorgeously gravelly morning voice of his. "Most beautiful sight in the world."
Y/N grinned, warmth blossoming in her chest at the open adoration on Harry's face. Even after going through a draining day, he still couldn't help being an outrageous charmer with her.
"Did you get enough beauty sleep, love?" she teased lightly, moving across the room to wind her arms around his trim waist.
Harry hummed in contentment, ducking his head to nuzzle into the crook of her neck. He inhaled her familiar honeysuckle scent deeply, as if letting the aroma soothe his very soul.
"More than enough. I feel reborn, all thanks to you taking such incredible care of me as always." One of his large hands trailed up and down her back. "You spoil me rotten, darling."
"And you love every second of it," Y/N murmured with a soft laugh, tilting her chin up to search his sparkling green gaze.
The tender look Harry returned her with stole her breath away, like it still did even after all this time together. His calloused thumb traced the line of her cheekbone reverently.
"How could I not?" His low rumble sent tingles down her spine. "When you pour so much love and devotion into everything you do for me. Makes me fall deeper every damn day, dove."
As their mouths slanted together in a searing, drugging kiss, Y/N couldn't dream of a response. Because there were truly no words sufficient enough to capture the cosmic love between them in that moment.
Of course, their intimate times weren't always just about relaxation either. Y/N's massages frequently led to much more heated activities once Harry was completely de-stressed, his desire for her building as she worked her magic on his body.
Harry loved nothing more than to suddenly flip their positions, pinning Y/N to the bed and attacking her neck and collarbone with hot, hungry kisses. His hands would grip her curves possessively as she writhed beneath him.
"You've woken the beast, darling," he would growl in her ear, making her shiver with delicious anticipation. "Now you'll have to tame him."
Their lovemaking was always passionate and intense, the depth of their connection shining through in how perfectly in-sync their bodies were. Y/N never felt more beautiful, powerful, and utterly cherished than when Harry was worshiping every inch of her with his hands, lips, and tongue.
Sometimes their couplings started not from a massage, but simply from them stealing heated looks while going about their day. Like the time Y/N was baking in the kitchen, shaking her hips to the beat of the pop song playing while she rolled out pie dough, careless and free of the world around her.
She didn't notice Harry sidle up behind her until his strong arms wound around her waist, tugging her flush against his solid chest. His lips found the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking a blistering path up to the spot behind her ear that drove her crazy.
"Look at you," he rumbled in that gravelly morning tone of his as Y/N gasped and arched back into his sturdy frame. "Being all sexy and domestic, tempting a bloke with something fierce."
Y/N bit back a throaty moan as Harry's nimble fingers slid beneath her loose shirt, calloused palms blazing a path up her ribcage. "Harry, what-what are you doing?" she breathed, though she already knew the answer if the hardness pressing into her backside was any indication.
"Having a nibble of my favorite snack," he replied cheekily, punctuating his words with a sharp nip to her earlobe that made her inhale shakily, her heartbeat accelerating in her chest.
Before she could really process what was happening, Harry had easily turned Y/N in his arms and hoisted her up onto the wide kitchen counter. She reflexively wrapped her toned legs around his trim waist to anchor them together as he attacked her mouth in a desperate kiss.
His tongue plundered deep, tasting every crevice as Y/N clutched at the dense muscle of his biceps and back. One of his large hands cupped her jaw to angle her how he wanted while the other palmed her breast through the thin fabric, brushing a calloused thumb over the peaked nipple there.
Y/N whimpered into Harry's mouth, already spiraling from how quickly his talented hands and lips had her arousal spiking. He was single handedly unraveling her till she was putty in his hands, the only thought in her mind was what he was planning to do to her next..
Finally, Harry broke the filthy clash of their mouths, panting harshly as he pinned Y/N with a look of pure hunger. His green eyes were near black with want, wandering possessively over her flushed state.
"You make me so bloody crazy, dove," he rasped in a low rumble that had her pulse kicking up another notch. "I can't keep my hands off you."
Y/N whimpered at the pure need saturating her boyfriend's deep tone. She squirmed deliciously against him, desperate for more friction.
"Then don't," she managed to gasp out through her daze of arousal. "Take what you want from me, Harry. I'm all yours."
The low, guttural groan Harry let out at her breathless plea, very nearly had Y/N coming undone right then. His smoldering gaze somehow burned even hotter with carnal intent.
Before she could process what was happening, Harry had ridden her of her shirt and shorts in two effortless tugs. His big palms instantly settled at the curves of her waist, thumbs dipping beneath the lace waistband of her underwear teasingly.
"Look at you...so gorgeous and flushed, ready and waiting for me," he praised in a low rasp, leaning in to drag his tongue up the slender column of her throat. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you baby?"
Y/N was too far gone in the spiral of her own pleasure to respond with anything more coherent than a choked-off whine that had him thickening in his pants. She writhed against Harry's solid frame, silently pleading for him to end her torment.
Seeming to take the hint, Harry ducked his head to mouth along the swell of her breasts and sternum, layering nips and sucking kisses until her skin was covered with marks of his devotion. Y/N arched her back hair sticking to her rapidly dampening skin as breathy moans tumbled from her parted lips.
"So responsive for me, dove," Harry grunted in approval, his big hands sliding around to shamelessly cup and squeeze her backside. "So perfect at taking everything I give you."
With one swift movement, he tugged her skimpy panties aside and plunged two ring clad fingertips through her dripping folds. Y/N cried out shamelessly at the long-awaited relief, her hips bucking forward uncontrollably to maximize the delicious stretch and burn.
"Christ, so wet and tight," Harry ground out, sounding utterly wrecked as he swirled his fingers around her throbbing entrance teasingly. "Made just for me, isn't that right lovely? Made to take my fingers, my tongue..."
His voice dropped to a sinful baritone as he slowly pumped his thick digits in and out of her fluttering, slick heat. Y/N let out a shrill whine of complete surrender, eyes rolling back as she fully gave herself over to the glorious sensations sparking along every nerve-ending.
"Made to take every hard inch of my cock, pushing deep inside this perfect little cunt," Harry continued in that gravelly and raspy tone, leaning down to whisper the obscene words directly against her damp skin.
True to form, his skilled fingers had Y/N right on the edge of shattering with dizzying speed. Her thighs quivered with the coiled tension, inner walls fluttering madly around the deliciously intrusive stretch of his thick digits.
Just when she thought she couldn't take any more of the exquisite torment, when stars were bursting behind her eyelids, Harry abruptly curled his fingers upward in a devastating stroke against that magic spot inside her. Y/N's entire body convulsed as she broke into a thousand kaleidoscopic pieces, a strangled scream of pure euphoria ripping free from her throat.
By the time her vision finally began refocusing, her loose limbs were draped bonelessly over Harry's shoulders, her head spinning in dizzy bliss. She clearly registered the achingly slow push and pull of his fingers continuing to work through her fluttering, overstimulated cunt.
Harry's burning gaze was locked onto her sweat-slicked, flushed skin as he methodically wrung out every last spasm of ecstasy from her boneless frame. The soft, reverent look of awe on his handsome face stole what little breath Y/N had managed to recapture.
"Look at you, darling...absolutely wrecked for me," he husked "So stunning like this, falling apart on my fingers. All fo’ me"
Despite feeling completely satisfied, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of desire at Harry's words. He always had been equal parts tender and filthy in his erotic praise and endearments.
Case in point, his next words as he slid his glistening fingers into his mouth to taste her essence were absolutely scorching.
"Clean that essence up for me like a good girl, dove...because I'm going to need you soaked and begging again in about five minutes."
Y/N let out a breathy moan at the promise in his words, knowing full well her legs were going to absolutely sore tonight, her knees wobbly and unable to walk by morning.
She nodded around the slick digits, swirling her tongue around the fullness of them as he sighed at the way she sucked his fingers.
“God, I wish it was m’ cock behind those pretty lips, dove” he pulled them out, placing his hand right over her naked thigh, “but I want it inside your pretty pussy for now”
She nodded, too awestruck to actua;ly process her mind to his words.He shook her head at her, pulling down the pants he had put on earlier.
“Got me so hard. Could’ve burst from listening to you being so filthy for me”
Her cheeks flushed at his risque words, thighs pushing together as his cock sprang free, the angry, red tip throbbing as he took himself into his palm, stroking his length to relieve some of the tension.
She pushed her thighs above each other, feeling utterly flustered and dizzy. He was gong to fuck her, and memories of all the times he had, flooding her mind like ocean water.
Finally, he let go of himself, parting her thighs and slotting himself in between. She let out a broken gasp, mouth going dry as she took a look at her own desperation, red and swollen, yet, so needy and wet.
“Could never get enough of you” he said into her mouth, swallowing her gasp as his cock stretched her open deliciously. A broken moan made its way past her lips, her quivering legs wrapping around him as he slid himself inside her. Her wetness swallowed him up, her pussy gushing with arousal as he angled her hips higher.
“Good, fucking–so damn tight for me” eh cursed, her mouth parting open into another broken sob as he thrust in and out of her, her wet walls taking him in so well. He felt so heavenly, his cock buried inside his pretty, so pretty and perfect girl.
“How did I stay so long without you? Hm?” he asked rhetorically, and she opened her closed eyes. His hand reached between her parted legs, his skilled digits teasing her clit, while his practised strokes made her fall apart under him.
“Oh fuck, yeah–right there” she begged him to keep fucking her, his cock hitting the deepest of spots inside her. It had her mind going numb, her toes curling as he fucked her with delirious intent.
“Pussy’s so good–:” he praised her once again, his fingers finally landing on her clit, a sharp spank that made her cum right then and there.
She arched her back, her head falling back till it touched the counter. She grabbed her nipples, pinching them as he rubbed circles over her clit, his cock fucking her at a pace that had her screaming and begging for more.
“Oh fuck, Harr–Harry, oh my fucking god”
He grabbed her hips, laying her down flat as she choked on another sob, her wetness gushing out and wetting the cold marble counter. Harry was grinning and smirking, watching her fall apart beneath him. He was the only one who could make her mind go absolutely detached, the only thought in her mind being of him. His name. His cock. His hands. The way they made her feel.
“Her orgasm prolonged as he kept her on the edge, her pussy short circuiting is the overstimulation kicked in. She was sore, two orgasms after a day of work would do that to her.
“Harry–” she pouted, her hands reaching out for his, to which he immediately complied, intertwining their fingers.
“Just a little longer, Almost done”
He promised, and began fucking her at the vicious pace again. The room echoed with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, her hips bruised as he sucked a breath in, teetering on the edge of sweet, sweet release.
He came inside her that day, his cock leaking inside her warm, warm cunt till he was fully spent and empty, her cunt full of his load as he stayed inside a little longer, relishing in the way she fluttered around him, squeezing and milking his cock for all he had.
He kissed her knuckles, murmuring sweet words of love as they lay on the counter for a while, her bake affair long forgotten, since she had already gotten a taste of something much sweeter.
***
The next morning, as Y/N was featherlight kissing her way down Harry's chiseled torso with the intent of rousing him for another sensual round, her lips brushed against something unfamiliar on his skin. Frowning, she pushed back the bedsheets to get a better look.
There, etched in thick black ink just above Harry's hipbone, was a new tattoo she had never noticed before. It was a series of numbers, almost like...coordinates?
Y/N felt her breath catch as she recognized the distinctly precise numerical patterning. She had taken enough coding classes to spot geographic coordinates when she saw them.
"Harry..." she gulped, tracing the new ink with a trembling fingertip. "What is this? Why do you have map coordinates tattooed on your body?"
The sleepy, blissed-out expression on Harry's face instantly shuttered closed as soon as the words left Y/N's lips. He seemed to almost freeze for a moment, grimacing ever-so-slightly as he struggled to keep his expression neutral.
"It's...nothing to concern yourself with, darling," he finally replied in a tone that was just a bit too overly-casual. "Just a drunken mistake from a mate's stag night a few weeks back. Doesn't mean anything, I swear."
But Y/N knew her boyfriend too well to be convinced by his nonchalant dismissal. She searched his bright green eyes, unable to shake the feeling that there was much more to this strange new tattoo than he was letting on.
What secrets could Harry possibly be keeping from her? And just where exactly would those map coordinates lead if she dared to follow them?
The delicious haze of their previous intimacy was shattered, replaced by a gnawing sense that Y/N was missing out on some important truth about her boyfriend's life. And she knew their relationship could never regain that blissful closeness until she uncovered what Harry was hiding...
♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡
tell me if you like this! i want to do a part 2, but this one's long, so we'll see! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)
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what it is: YN is Harry’s personal assistant and she gets sick, but he’s playing Wembley
word count: 4k
The air is crisp and clean as YN steps out of her hotel into the streets of London, hurrying down the sidewalk as she scurries to the first pharmacy she can find.
It’s 7.54 in the morning and she’s been awake for almost twenty-four hours. Not on purpose, obviously. And not on her boss’s orders either, despite having there been nights the team deemed important and she was required to pull an all nighter, but those were usually times of celebrations, either spent at an afterparty or waiting until midnight for Spotify to release the album everyone had been working hard on.
The air hurts her lungs as she stops to catch her breathing, the pounding behind her temples not dimming the slightest as she trespasses the sliding doors of the pharmacy, only intensifying with the bright artificial lights shining down on her from the ceiling.
She pulls her sunglasses out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and slides them over her eyes, relishing in the temporary relief washing over her sensitive eyes.
Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out, grimacing at the name on the screen; it’s her boss, Harry, asking her what time she’s ready to leave for the venue.
Once her turn comes, she quickly explains her symptoms to the pharmacist and just as quickly she pays for the medicine the pharmacist has taken out for her.
She walks out of the pharmacy and types back a short response to Harry, telling him she’s on her way to his room.
She hopes the medicine she has stuffed in her pocket will make her feel better, and she thinks as she’s making her way back to the hotel that she’ll ask Harry to stop along the way to grab a coffee, hoping it will soothe the tension behind her temples. There’s no way she can be sick when her boss is playing at Wembley for the first time.
…
Harry isn’t one to comment on other people’s appearances, his mum taught him that and it has stuck with him since he was a little kid, a sort of an unspoken rule out of kindness, and therefore he’s never asked if someone was sick because they weren’t wearing makeup or if someone had eaten a little more over the holidays. He never considered other people’s looks something that concerned his range of business, but once he sees YN, he can’t help but wonder if she’s okay.
Her hair is tied in a messy braid, and there’s some strands falling out of it and in front of her eyes. She’s wearing a big love on tour sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants, but that isn’t particularly concerning, because he’s used to her comfy articles of clothing.
What’s concerning is her face… and Harry already feels bad for thinking that, but she doesn’t look like herself. And Harry would know. Of course he would know, because he spends a lot of time looking at her face, especially when she’s not looking, most of the times when she’s reading a book next to him in a moment of rest or when she’s answering emails on Monday mornings. So… he knows her. He knows her skin looks paler than normal, and the circles under her eyes aren’t the same as that one time they partied all night after Harry won album of the year at the Grammys.
He wants to ask if she’s okay, because after a year of working together they have that kind of confidence, but he doesn’t want that to be the first thing he says to her, so he just smiles at her and welcomes her with a side hug and a good morning.
“Hi” she’s quick to greet back, and Harry notices even her voice sounds scruffier than usual.
“Are you ready to go?” She asks a second later.
“Yeah, yeah, the car’s down already?” He asks surprised. Sometimes it takes a while before the drivers find the hotel, and YN and Harry spend that time watching videos on youtube or talking about the day’s schedule.
YN shrugs but doesn’t say anything in response, which is weird to Harry because she’s usually really bright and energetic in the morning, and she’s really meticulous on top of everything: she never lets him wait without finding something to pass the time first.
“Let’s just stay until we don’t know for certain” he suggests.
She agrees with a nod of her head and she heads to his bed, sitting down on the end of it. It’s not uncommon for her, because she’s always in his space, and there have been times where they were forced to basically sleep in the same bed (one time YN fell asleep on his bed, and Harry was so in his song-writing-bubble he didn’t even realize until he was so tired he couldn’t keep his eyes open, so he slipped in next to her and literally passed out).
He still needs to tie his shoes, so he sits next to her and ties the laces of his ratted vans.
“How’d yeh sleep, pet?” He asks, because she’s freakishly quiet and it’s making him anxious. She’s never quiet, and with this being a stressful day already for Harry, every little thing that’s different from normal alerts him.
“Fine” she whispers, knuckling at her eyes, his question bringing back the awful memory of the night she spent tossing and turning in the scratchy hotel sheets, praying for a moment of solace every time she tried to breathe through her nose and failing.
“Me too…” he nods.
YN feels bad because she should be more engaging, but she really doesn’t have it in her to make small talk.
Some time passes before the driver calls YN’s phone to tell her the van is here, shaking her awake. She remembers closing her eyes to rest them, and next thing she knows she’s sound asleep on her boss’s bed. She’d be a bit embarrassed if it wasn’t for how awful she feels already.
“Crap! I fell asleep!” She exclaims once she hangs up the call.
“Yeah” Harry says from next to her, still laying on his bed, “just fo’ like… fifteen minutes though” He’s playing on his phone, and YN pushes at his bicep, “we need to go, driver’s here”
She gets up from the bed and slips on her shoes, grabbing her work bag (it’s really a tote bag but she finds calling it work bag makes her waaaay more professional) from the floor next to the door.
“YN” she hears Harry clear his voice, and she turns around to look at him.
He’s still sitting on the bed, and he passes a hand through his hair before saying, “are yeh all right?”
She closes her eyes in a furrow and tries not to wince when a sharp pain shoots behind her eyes with the movement, “yes, yes” she stresses, although not convinced.
“Are you sure? C’mon yeh can tell me!”
“I’m fine, Harry” and despite her words, she sniffles, “maybe I have a cold or something…”
“You can take the day off if you need to, yeh know that”
“No, there’s no way” she shakes her head swiftly, “no”.
“YN…” he trails off.
“Harry, I told you I’m fine. I can work! Let’s just go, okay?”
He sighs but does as she says, following her out of his room.
Harry isn’t a worrier. If someone from his team, or band whatsoever, says they can work, he at least presumes they’re mature enough to know the expanse of their limits.
With YN, it’s different. He worries.
Not because he considers her immature, but she’s just… different. Ever since she started working for him as his assistant, he’s always looked out for her, despite being the one that didn’t want to hire her in the first place.
She’s young, she works a lot to prove herself to him, despite him telling her lots of times she doesn’t need to prove anything and she’s doing a great job as she is.
She does unthinkable working hours, sometimes pulling all nighters, other times hurrying to his house in the middle of the night because he’s a little bit of a hypochondriac and she needs to check immediately what’s that new mole he has on his back (turns out it was a speck of dark chocolate that stuck onto his skin).
She’s soft and she always puts her job (him, actually) first, so he doesn’t really trust her to know her limits. If she’s sick she should rest. She should lay in bed and maybe eat a little soup and watch comfort movies tucked under the sheets, but he knows she won’t. And he knows he’s the reason behind that, because he’s playing at Wembley tonight, and she doesn’t want to cause trouble. Harry thinks she in no way could ever be described as trouble.
And maybe, and he feels a little bit scared to admit this, he could postpone the show just by a couple hours, at least until he knows she’s resting at the hotel. but, she hurries into the van and pretends like she’s just got “a cold or something”, so Harry doesn’t question her further.
He could just order her to take the day off, but he knows that would hurt her feelings, and he can imagine the look on her face, like a puppy being scolded, so he bites his tongue: there’s no way he could ever hurt her feelings.
…
YN has to stop a couple of times when she starts feeling dizzy on her feet. She shouldn’t run this much when she’s probably feverish, but there’s so much to do! She doesn’t trust to delegate, and not because she’s pretentious, but because she’s a control freak that needs to know how things are being handled, so she would only get much more frustrated and it would eventually just end up in her doing all the work anyway, increasing her fever undoubtedly.
So, she chugs downs a lot of water and a lot of ibuprofen, taking deep breaths every time she starts feeling nauseous. She should probably inform Harry at least that she doesn’t feel good, so if anything were to happen he wouldn’t be too surprised, but she knows how he is; he would demand she stop immediately and go back to the hotel to rest, and she can’t allow that to happen.
Wembley is the dream of a lifetime, and Harry sound checks every song two times before passing on to the next one. YN sits quietly in one of the seats, preparing Harry’s next instagram post on her phone. She handles all of his socials, because that’s what she was originally hired for. “A young set of eyes”, Jeff had defined her, and from then, her life had changed completely.
Of course, she wasn’t aware she’d develop a crush on her boss at the time she was hired. She figured she’d be immune to his charm; she’s younger than him, much less experienced (in every aspect of her life), and hasn’t really seen anything yet, so she thought they’d just be too different to get along. Spending each second of the day together didn’t help, though, because it was then she got to know Harry for who he truly was, and with that, came the awareness of how many things he’d lived through and how many things he could teach her. How soft he was with her, how he would always drape a blanket over her when she accidentally fell asleep on his bed, and how he would tell her she looked pretty even after pulling an all nighter and probably looking like a raccoon. That’s just how he was.
And that’s why she values his dreams more than her health. She would never do anything that could harm him, so she shrugs off the dreadful feeling off her back and keeps working.
…
“Hey” Harry plops down on the couch next to her, draping his arm on the backrest of the couch. If he’d stretched his fingers he could touch her shoulder, but he doesn’t just yet. He knows she still doesn’t feel good, he can see it in the way she’s hugging herself in the Love on tour hoodie she has on (probably one of his because their laundry always gets mixed up).
“Hi” she says softly, her voice much lower than it’d been the last time he saw her.
It’s closer to show time now, but he’s still not in his outfit. YN wonders if that’s the reason why he came in the dressing room in the first place.
“What are yeh doin’ hidin’ in here all alone?”
“‘m not hiding!” She pouts, “jus’… resting”
“Mh, yeah?” He hums, turning his head to look at her, “restin’ your ears? Are you tired of my music yet?” He jokes.
“Never!” She beams, swatting at his chest playfully.
He lets his arm fall down on her shoulder, and he tugs at her, squeezing her against his chest.
She breaths him in, and despite her stuffy nose, she can smell the faint scent of his fabric softener. Musk and lavender. It’s the same as hers.
“I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a pain lately…” he trails off, his mouth buried in her hair, “nothing to do with you… was jus’ nervous is all”
She squeezes his hoodie between her fingers to tug him closer, “I’m really proud of you. You’ll do great.”
“Thanks, pet” he grins, breaking away from the hug.
She sniffles and he looks between her eyes warily, “’s there anything you want to tell me before I go on stage?”
“Jus’ to kick ass” she giggles, aware that wasn’t what he was alluding at.
“Mmmh” he muses, getting up from the couch. He knew she’d be stubborn about this so he doesn’t pressure her.
“Hav’to start gettin’ ready” he clears his throat, heading towards the portable hanger YN set up in his dressing room.
He then proceeds to take off his hoodie and his tank top, leaving him shirtless before her.
She’s seen him in his underwear many times, but maybe it’s the fever, maybe it’s the crush on him that’s growing stronger everyday, but she feels her insides get warm at the sight.
He tugs his sweats down his legs too, kicking them off his feet, and YN pretends to pick up her phone to respond to a message that definitely could have waited.
He picks up the heart printed overalls he’d be wearing and tugs them over his legs, jumping a little in his place so they could fit over his bum.
Once he’s fully dressed, he looks over at YN and finds her looking at him already, her eyes a little droopy. He feels his heart tug in his chest at the sight. He wishes she’d let him help her. If he could he’d send her back to the hotel straight away, but he has to admit he’s selfishly relishing in the idea of having her here, looking at him perform. It makes him want to do even better than he always does.
“All ready then” he smiles, dimples denting both his cheeks.
“Mmhh” she hums, getting up on her feet. She walks towards him and adjusts the neck of his shirt, petting it down.
“Good luck Harry” she smiles. He has to refrain himself from lowering his head down to kiss her, and he’s aware these thoughts are way too unprofessional of him, but he can’t help himself. Not when she’s looking at him like that.
“See ya after the show, pet”
…
“Harry!” Jeff pats down on his shoulders as soon as Harry runs backstage, “you just smashed it! Fuckin’ smashed it mate!”
Harry laughs with him out of politeness, but his mind is really on something else.
“Fuckin’ Wembley, Harry! Wembley’s Harry’s house!” Someone else shouts, and he thinks it’s Lloyd but he doesn’t really pay much attention to him. There’s someone missing from the crowd. YN. She’s nowhere to be found, and he’d really like to celebrate with her. She’s the one that should join in on the fun and get a little bit of praise too, because without her, harry doesn’t think he could’ve played Wembley.
Everything was going fine, and he saw her next to his mother standing in the private part of the pit, but then, when he came back after chatting with a couple of fans, she was gone. He wonders if she’s okay.
“Hey, Jeff” he clears his throat, hoping to be discreet with his tone of voice, “where’s YN?”
“Oh…” he nods, “she wasn’t feeling proper good, so I sent her to your dressing room. I told her to get back to the hotel, but she refused to leave”
Harry nods and after a ‘thanks’ he hurries towards his dressing room, hoping to find her there.
Once he opens the door, the sight of YN sleeping on the couch crouched on herself makes his heart somersault in his chest.
“Hey, pet” he coos softly once he crouches down next to her.
He repeats the endearing greeting, and this time she stirs awake. YN brings one hand to knuckle at her eyes tiredly, and Harry frowns at the sight of her bloodshot eyes. He brings one hand to caress her cheek, but when he realizes how warm she is, he brings it up to her forehead. She’s burning hot.
He immediately feels guilty. He should’ve sent her back to the hotel as soon as he realized she was sick, hell, he shouldn’t have let her leave his room that morning!
“Harry?” She asks timidly, her voice coming out scruffy. She gulps but flinches as the hurt in her throat doesn’t subside.
“Yeah, ’s me” he whispers, moving the hair away from her face, “let’s go back to the hotel, okay?”
“No Harry! The show! You can’t leave… the show! It’s wembley” she stresses, gripping his bicep tightly to refrain him from leaving her.
“Shh, shh” he shushes her, “calm down. ’s okay. The show was great. Everything was great” he coos, pressing his lips down her forehead and flinching from how hot it feels, “you did so great”.
She sniffles and: “great?”
“Yeah” he nods, reassuring her, “let’s go now, okay?”
He helps her get up on her feet, and she stumbles a bit in her place. She grips the fabric of his overalls tightly between her fingers, and he lets her, hoping to be at least a little bit of comfort.
…
“How are you feelin’? What hurts?” He asks her once they reach his hotel room (he wanted to go back to hers, but couldn’t find her key and didn’t want to startle her too much).
“Everything” she pouts.
“I’m so sorry, darling” he sighs, ushering her inside his room.
She’s stable on her feet now, the little nap at the venue kind of helped a bit in soothing her, but still, everything hurts, and the thought of being in a hotel room and not at her own house bothers her.
She also doesn’t want Harry to look at her like this, all sweaty and red in the cheeks. She must look so embarrassing!
“I’ll draw you a bath, how about that?” He proposes, not waiting for her response and heading directly towards the bathroom.
Now that he thinks about it, harry’s glad she’s in his room, because (being the Harry Styles) his room has a bathtub, whereas hers doesn’t. He also has lots of salt baths and bubbles to add to the water, courtesy of the hotel, and he adds everything he can to soothe her stuffed nose and make the bath as pleasing as possible.
She knocks on the door delicately, and he turns his head to look at her.
“Bath’s ready” he smiles gently, and he dips his index finger to test the temperature of the water, careful not to make it too hot to not aggravate her fever any more.
Harry excuses himself from the bathroom, and tells her to give him a shout if she needs anything.
It’s a couple of minutes later when he hears her calling for him, her voice still lower than normal.
He knocks on the door and after he gets her consent he opens it, peeking his head inside. She’s laying in the bathtub, the water submerging her almost to her neck, and he’s aware she’s naked under, but the bubbles cover her body entirely.
“Are yeh all right?” He asks worriedly.
“Mhmh,” she hums, “jus… keep me company?”
He’s happy she’s more responsive now, and he happily sits at her side, plopping down on the toilet seat next to the tub.
They sit in silence for a while, Harry’s aware he’s still in his fancy (and uncomfortable) show clothes, but he doesn’t care. He’s just happy to dote on her now as she’s been doing with him since she’s been hired.
“I can’t believe you played at wembley and I missed half of it” she says after a while, the water sloshing around her as she turns to look at him.
“There’s always next time” he grins at her playfully.
She throws a smile at him, “bet”.
His mouth opens in a sideway smile, his dimple indenting only one of his cheeks, and more seriously than he did before, he says “I wish you’d told me you weren’t feelin’ good”
“Didn’t want to spoil your day” she shrugs.
He wants to tell her she wouldn’t have spoiled it, that if she’d asked he would’ve postponed his show and crawled in bed with her, cuddling her until she felt better, even with the risk of getting himself sick too, he didn’t care. He would have done anything to make her feel good; but how can he tell her? How can he be honest about something like that without revealing another part of himself to her? He’s her boss. He’s older than her. And he doesn’t know if she feels the same way.
So, instead of making a complete fool out of himself, he ushers her out of the tub, passing her a towel without looking at her. He engulfs her in the bathrobe and ties it tight on her stomach, careful to have her bits covered completely by the fabric of the towel.
When he reaches his room, he takes out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers for her to sleep in, and he leave her to change in the bathroom.
While he waits for her to come out, he texts his mum if she could make that delicious soup she always prepared when he was sick, promising he wasn’t sick himself and that he’d explain in the morning. His mum answers a couple of minutes later with a thumbs up and a kissy face.
He locks his phone and plugs it in the charger next to the bed, leaving it on the bedside table.
When YN comes out of the bathroom, she looks better already. Her cheeks aren’t as red and her eyes appear to be more rested, but, she still looks tired, and he smiles at her as he tugs the comforter down for her to slip in.
She curls up under the covers and waits for Harry to tuck her in, “comfortable?” He asks.
She nods with her cheek against the pillow, “just wish I was home” she whispers and the affirmation pains him.
“I’ve been overworking yah, haven’t I?” He sighs deeply, feeling extremely guilty.
She’s quick to shake her head no, flinching when a sting of pain hits her temples with the movement.
“Yes I have… you’ve been s’good” he smiles down at her.
“You’re a Wembley player now” she whispers, her eyes closing on her as she speaks, and Harry chuckles endeared at her.
“Get some rest” he coos, but she’s already fallen in a deep sleep that will probably be tainted with a curly headed guy with green eyes and a pretty smile.
He fishes from inside her bag a tab of ibuprofen and, with a glass of water, he places them on the bedside table closer to her side, so, if she’d ever were to wake up in pain, she could take the medicine immediately.
He takes the shortest shower he’s ever taken, quickly putting on his pajamas and brushing his teeth. Once he’s ready for bed, he slips in next to her, leaning down to press his lips on her forehead to check her temperature. She’s still warm, but the bath seemed to be of help, and probably the much needed sleep, too.
He thinks he’ll give her the rest of the month off. He owes it to her, so she can get back up on her feet and spend some time at home if she’d like. He takes a minute to wonder why hasn’t he ever given her more than a day of rest, and he doesn’t have to wonder too much, because he knows the answer already, one that is overbearing and too deep to even analyze after the day he’s had: he doesn’t want to be away from her that much time. It’s as simple as that. He’s fucked.
Read part 1 to their story here
hi! let me know if you liked this!!! this is my ko-fi if you'd like to support me and my writing, even a small donation is appreciated <3 love you all!
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More Harry Styles Fic Recs
------------ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍓🍒🍄 ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ------------
FOR JANUARY, FEBRUARY, AND MARCH
One Shots:
Y/N is a CEO, Harry is also a CEO - @sumptuoushstyles-blog
five seconds - @autumn-sunflowers
knight in skinny jeans - @stylesharrys
Partners in Crime - @watchmegetobsessed
Golden - @hunflowers
Quid Pro Quo - @talesofstyles
Casual - @cupid-styles
Swan Lake - @enthusiasticharry
Serendipity - @justlemmeadoreyou
Afterparty - @chaoticloving
Sweet Symphonies - @smuttyaf
Baby Steps - @enthusiasticharry
Uptown Girl - @thestoryofusstan
Series:
Your Love AU - @theydontknowaboutusimagines
The Royal Series - @harrylilies
Eight Count - @hsdiaries
Portfolio - @nationalharryleague
Petal - @autumn-sunflowers
Now You're In My Life - @justmystyles
Old Grudges | Part 2 - @watchmegetobsessed
Secret Little Rendezvous - @justlemmeadoreyou
All that you are - @stylesharrys
#harry styles fan fics#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic rec#harry styles imagines#harry styles masterlist#harry styles one shot#harry styles smut#harry styles au#harry styles#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x actress!reader#harry styles x famous!reader#harry styles x makeup artist! yn#harry styles x oc
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hi bestie,, idk if u take requests buttt have u seen kieran culkin speech after he won his emmy & then him asking his wife for another baby on stage 😁🤭🤭 idk i thought that would a cute h blurb
that kieran speech was SO CUTE i just had to take this request !!! happy one year of grammy winner Harry for those who celebrate! i hope you like this as much as I do
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
The night had been one for the books.
Harry became a Grammy winner for the second time within the first 30 minutes of the ceremony, getting the award for Best Pop Vocal Album, and your heart bursted with joy and pride and you watched him collect it.
He also delivered an amazing performance even though he had a stage malfunction that was out of his control, and after a few minutes of pep talk backstage, you convinced him that he should be proud of what he did no matter what.
Nights like tonight made you look back at your journey with Harry, from getting frustrated each year when the Grammys refused to give One Direction a nomination, to consoling him when his debut single Sign of the Times got overlooked and celebrating when they finally ave him his long overdue nomination for Fine Line. And now, being one of the most nominated artists of the night and a winner already.
Harry was not an artist that let awards or numbers define his career at all, but you knew that deep down he appreciated getting a nod and recognition for the hard work he puts into his music.
"What's on your mind, honey?" Harry asked and he noticed that you had been quiet for a few minutes, the show was on a commercial break so you could talk freely.
"Just thinking about how am I getting a picture with Beyoncé before the night ends," you joked, making him laugh along, "I'm also thinking about the bub, do you think she's okay?"
Harry couldn't help but smile at the mention of your daughter. Little baby Styles had been welcomed into the world a year and a half ago, looking like an exact carbon copy of Harry with curls, dimples and charming green eyes.
It's safe to say that she became Harry's entire world from the moment he saw her for the first time.
"I bet she's fast asleep by now after snuggling with mum for hours," you smiled at the thought, "You know she's obsessed with mum."
"She just loves her nana," you almost cooed, "And her Grammy winner daddy, even tho she doesn't have any idea what that means."
"You know," Harry began, and by the look on his face you knew he was up to no good, "She could become obsessed with her bay brother or sister too, if we decided to give her one."
The smirk on Harry's face after his statement was almost devilish, making you look him with wide eyes and a grin on your own.
"Are you asking me for another baby in the middle of the Grammys?" Harry shrugged, the smirk not leaving his face, "You're a menace. But, maybe if you win, I'll think about it."
Before Harry could reply, the lights dimmed signaling that commercial break was over and it was time for more awards, more specifically, the most important award of the night: Album of the Year.
Trevor Noah, the host, talked about the importance and meaning of the award, the fans the production had invited to support the nominees stood beside him in a line.
You could barely focus on what was being said because your eyes were fixed on Harry's hand gripping yours tightly, and you felt like throwing up from nerves if you looked at the stage.
And the Grammy goes to…” Trevor spoke into the mic, making a dramatic pause that felt way too long and made you finally look up no the stage, noticing that he was standing in front of Reina, Harry's fan.
And that was the moment you knew, the Album of the Year was Harry's House.
“It’s you!” both you ans Jeff whisper-yelled in unison, looking at each other with shocked faces and making Harry give you a confused look.
“What do you-” and before he could even finish his sentence his name was being called out and the trumpets from Music for a Sushi Restaurant filled the place.
Harry immediately covered his face in disbelief, shaking his head and taking in in the moment. You couldn't help but stand up and jump in your place, adrenaline and excitement, but mostly pride, running through your veins.
"My love, you won! Harry's House won!" you said into his ear when he finally wrapped his arms around you, pecking the side of yiur head repeatedly before kissing your lips quickly.
"I love you," was all he said before getting rushed into the stage along with his collaborators and friends.
"Shit!" was the first thing that came out of his mouth once he had his Grammy in hand, making everyone laugh, “I mean,shit! I’ve been so, so inspired by every artist in this category with me. At a lot of different times in my life I listen to everyone in this category when I’m alone,” he took a breath,"I think on nights like tonight, it’s obviously so important for us to remember that there is no such thing as best in music. I don’t think any of us sit in the studio thinking, making decisions based on what is gonna get us one of these.”
You stood with your hands clutched to your chest, your eyes filled with happy tears and nothing but love and admiration for him.
"I'd like to thank my mom and my sister for being my biggest supporters and giving me a great childhood, I would be nowhere without you," he paused to look directly at you from the stage, his eyes immediately watering again, "And of course my beautiful wife, YN. Thank you for sharing your beautiful life with me and giving me an amazing daughter who is the reason I do what I do everyday,"
You were unaware of the camera focusing on your and catching the moment you mouthed an 'I love you' to him from your place.
"I love you both so much, you mean the world to me. And YN," he paused, the devilish look from earlier making his way to his face again, along with a teasing raised eyebrow that told you that he was about to do something major, "I want another one."
The entire arena erupted into laughs and cheers, Jeff clapped and whistled from beside you and you couldn't help but cover your face in shock and embarrassment, astonished by Harry's anctics.
"You said, maybe if I won, and I did!" the crowd laughed even more, "I love you, so much. Thank you for this, I'll never forget it."
Harry got off the stage and you met him backstage to congratulate him properly, after a final performance the night came to an end and everyone headed outside the arena to celebrate.
"Do you feel like partying tonight? The label is throwing a celebration but if you feel tired we can skip it," Harry said as you both sat on the back of his Range Rover.
"Honestly, I just want to go home, kiss our baby goodnight and celebrate with my Grammy winner husband in private," you smiled at him teasingly, "Maybe get started on that second baby making."
The smile that appeared on Harry's face after hearing your words was bigger than the one from winning a Grammy.
"Home it is, then."
#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles imagine#harry styles writing#harry styles fluff#harry styles fake instagram#harry styles one shot#harry styles blurb#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles headcanon#harry styles fic#harry styles au#harry styles fake social media#harry styles story#harrysfolklore#harry styles masterlist#harry styles fic rec#harry styles grammy#1k
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