#harry styles one direction
Note
bodyguardrry x stripper!y/n?
pink pony club
in which harry is a bodyguard at the club y/n dances at
word count: 2.8k
content warnings: spicy content, minor violence, a small unwanted touching scene, smut (thigh riding, spitting, dirty talk, breast play, one "sir" mention, minor slapping......I think that's it gkdfjgkjd)
masterlist | talk to me
. . .
Harry doesn’t care much about his job.
He’s not all that interested in working night shifts that start at 8:30 p.m. and don’t end until 4 a.m. He’s not tempted by the constant flow of alcohol, the endless lines of powder that decorate the bartop and booth tables, and the half — and sometimes fully — naked girls that make their money by twirling around oiled up stripper poles and sweet-talking businessmen.
His job as a bodyguard is simply a means to an end. A paycheck. A way to survive.
Unless Y/N is working.
The second she started at Pink Pony Club, it felt as if his world brightened up. She emitted an effervescent pink hue everywhere she went, bathing Harry in it with her bright smile and sweet eyes. He’s always kept a special eye on her — while he didn’t care for the logistics of his job, he took the safety of the dancers seriously, and Y/N was no exception. In fact, maybe she was the exception.
He was the only dancer he watched. She was the only one he spoke to. His pretty, shy, pink girl.
When she took one-on-one dances in the Red Room, he was the guard she asked to accompany her. He never minded. No, he dropped everything to be there with her, even if it meant standing there stoically, watching as she grinded on the lap of a man that would tip her too little.
If it were him, he would never take her perfect presence for granted.
He would sit back and let her take her time. Shower her in every compliment his brain could churn out. He’d comply with the strict no touching rule, but god, if his hands wouldn’t tremble at his sides. He’d have to sit on them to stop himself from doing something stupid.
Sometimes, it’s what he wished those grimy men would do. Like this piece of shit, who’s been shelling out hundred after hundred dollar bills to keep Y/N locked away in the Red Room all night. It’s been hours and the guy can barely keep his head up straight. From Harry’s spot in front of the door, he can tell Y/N’s tired and in need of a break. And when the song comes to a crawling end, he’s ready to step in and tell the guy to get lost, but he’s already digging in his pocket for his wallet. Harry grits his teeth as he watches Y/N’s shoulders fall.
“Another one,” the idiot mutters, stuffing three hundred dollars in the waistband of her panties. Y/N jerks away from his touch and the man stills, flashing her a confused expression. “What? I’ve paid you your entire yearly salary tonight and I can’t put some fuckin’ money in your panties?”
Harry’s fists ball up at his sides, already taking heavy strides towards them as Y/N’s mumbling out, “you’re not allowed to touch the girls.”
“Oh, give me a fuckin’ break,” he wails, sending a look of disbelief to Harry, as if he should agree with him. “This girl’s a cocktease!”
Harry snorts and Y/N shuffles off the man’s lap. He stands in front of her, creating a physical barrier between the two.
“You heard her, you’re not allowed to touch any of the girls. Doesn’t matter how much money you’ve paid.” Harry says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you gonna get lost or are we gonna have a problem?”
The guy rolls his eyes. “You’re telling me you’re always here watching over this one and you’ve never once copped a feel? She’s out with her fuckin’ ass and tits out and you—”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish whatever disgusting sentence was coming out of his mouth because Harry’s already pulling him up by the shirt collar. The guy yelps as Harry’s strong grip yanks him off the couch and he scoffs, resisting the urge to spit in his face.
“Disgusting piece of shit.” he mutters, throwing him up against the maroon velvet wall. “You know that? You think you can fucking talk about her like she’s some kind of object?”
“She’s a stripper!” he exclaims, raising his hands up in mock defense.
“I don’t fucking care,” Harry growls, “She could be an escort for all I care, but you don’t touch anyone without their fucking permission. Especially her. Do you fucking hear me?”
“Yeah, man, whatever! It’s all good, I promise!”
“Oh, it’s all good?” he mocks, keeping him pushed up against the wall with his hand up against his chest. His other arm cocks back and his hand forms a tight fist, his knuckles white as hot adrenaline courses through his veins. He’s ready to beat this guy until he’s unrecognizable — until he hears it.
A small, quiet whimper of his name.
Immediately, he turns around. Y/N stands behind him, looking small and helpless with glassy eyes. Again, she repeats his name. “Harry,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s not worth it, I don’t wanna lose my job. Just let him go.”
And just like that, he does.
He lowers his fist, his hand unfurls around the cheap fabric of his button-up, and he’s free to go, scrambling out of the Red Room before Harry has the chance to tell the other bodyguards to escort him out. But he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the teary eyed girl with trembling fingers.
“Baby,” he breathes, fear surging through his chest as he wraps a tender arm around her waist. He sits onto the crushed velvet bench and pulls her into his lap, keeping a soothing hand placed at the small of her waist. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She quickly shakes her head, allowing the tears to flow a bit more freely now. “I-I’m okay. Just scary.”
“I know,” he mumbles, biting his lip. “Was it— did I scare you?”
“No, no. I know you were just… trying to protect me.” she says softly, blinking her eyes at him.
“I was, sweetheart. I promise. I would never do anything to hurt or scare you.”
She nods. “I know.”
“How much longer do you have left of your shift? I can take you home. You shouldn’t be working when you’re upset.”
Y/N glances down at the watch around Harry’s wrist, nibbling on her bottom lip as she thinks. It’s already 2, which means the club closes in less than three hours.
“Just another hour. I can make it,” she replies as she straightens her posture in his grasp. “I’m just… I don’t think I’m ready to go back out there yet.”
“That’s fine. We can stay here as long as you’d like.” And he’d certainly knock out anyone who threatened to give her shit for it.
They sit in silence for a bit and Harry keeps a protective arm looped around her waist the entire time, drawing soft circles into her exposed hip. He feels relief at knowing that she doesn’t express discomfort at being in his arms and frankly, if it were up to him, she’d never leave them.
Harry’s torn from his thoughts when she runs her fingers over the expanse of tattoos that cover his arms. Glancing down, he watches as her manicured nails slowly float from the anchor on his wrist all the way up to the ship on his bicep. He swallows, staying impossibly still as she analyzes the ink. Eventually, she lands on the cursive A on his shoulder.
“Girlfriend?” she asks, peering up at him. He shakes his head.
“Mum,” he murmurs, “Do you have any tattoos?”
Y/N nods. “One.”
Harry’s tongue peeks out to moisten his lips as he maintains heavy-lidded eye contact with her. He’s seen nearly every bit of her skin and prickles form in his stomach, thinking about where her hidden tattoo could be.
“What is it?”
Slowly, she shifts off of his lap to stand in front of him. Using deft fingertips to peel the waistband of her lacey lingerie down, she reveals a simple red rose inked into her skin, just above where her mound begins. Harry swallows harshly at the sight.
“Do you like it?”
Harry huffs out a laugh. “Gorgeous.” he mumbles.
“I was thinking about getting another one,” she breathes as she shimmies the fabric just a bit lower. She taps the small patch of skin across from the rose. “An H, maybe.”
“That would be a silly decision, sweetheart,” he says lowly, leaning back against the bench and spreading his legs a little wider. “You don’t want an initial for the guy who beats up idiot losers.”
“I do, though. I love knowing you’re there to protect me.” she replies. Briskly, she climbs back into his lap, this time straddling his waist and placing her knees on either side of him. As if on instinct, he wraps his arms around her to steady her, pressing one palm to the back of her thigh.
“I’ll always be there to protect you,” he mumbles, chest tightening as she leans closer. Her lips are centimeters away and it makes his breath catch in his throat. His throat bobs as he swallows, angling his head ever so slightly to minimize the small gap between them, and then he whispers: “Stop me if it’s too much.”
“It’s not,” she’s so close to him that her breath ghosts over his plush lips, “Kiss me. Please.”
That’s all he needs to seal their lips, her shaky hands finding purchase at the back of his neck. It feels so special to have her hands on him as their lips meld; slowly at first, and then she’s straightening her back to push her chest forward, desperate to be closer, closer, closer.
It feels like their only source of oxygen is coming from one another. Harry’s hands grip her ass firmly, squeezing the plump skin in his palms. He’s content with keeping things here at a steady PG-13 level until her wet mouth breaks away for just a moment, only long enough to murmur, “touch me, I need it.”
A groan oscillates from his throat as his hands travel down to her neck, her shoulders, her chest, and then finally her breasts. His hands find the covered peaks of her nipples and she inhales sharply, shuddering beneath his touch. He smirks as he settles on the right side of her chest, using his thumb to gently brush over her nipple. She straightens her spine and leans into the sensation as he slowly rubs it back and forth.
"Always gonna keep you safe. You know that?” Harry mumbles into her mouth, licking at the seam of her lips. Her eyes squeeze shut and her thighs threaten to close around his wide, spread legs.
“Uh-huh,” she nearly whines. He swallows as he watches her, noticing her quick descent into desperation. He gives her nipple a soft squeeze before quickly pausing to unhook her bra and toss it to the floor. He resumes his teasing just a moment later, leaning forward and attaching his lips to the hard bud. A quiet, shaky mewl falls from her swollen lips.
He parts with a pop but only to spit messily onto the peak. She gasps when he takes her nipple into his mouth again, hissing as he bites the skin. It’s not hard or long enough to elicit any real pain, just a sweet sizzle in her stomach that makes her tug at the curled ends of his hair. He chuckles softly at her reaction before licking over the bite and tucking the bud back between his lips. Once he’s gotten his fix, he removes his hand from her breast and moves it up to her mouth.
"Open." he commands. As if under a spell, her bottom lip drops open and Harry pushes two of his fingers inside, pressing them down against her tongue. "Dirty little mouth, hm?" He murmurs. She nods submissively and he grins, "Suck."
She closes her lips, encasing his long fingers in her mouth as she begins to slowly bob up and down, taking them further. His fingertips make contact with her throat, eliciting a short gag as the muscles contract slightly around them. Quickly, he removes them. "Did I hurt you?"
She shakes her head and reaches up to wipe away some of the drool that had escaped her mouth.
"No. I like it."
"Are you lying, baby?" He asks, moving her hair over her shoulder, "This isn't fun for me if you're just doing what you think I want."
"I'm not lying, I promise. I like it."
Harry's lips curl into a smirk. "Tell me what else you like, then."
As she opens her mouth, he shifts his thigh between her legs, the muscles flexing firmly against her core. She gasps, though Harry pretends like he hadn't done anything, instead nodding at her shortly; an encouragement to follow his directions.
"I like gagging on your fingers." She whines as he begins to move his thigh back and forth, just slow enough to create some friction between their bodies.
"Yeah? What else do you like?"
"You," she whimpers, gently rocking her hips against his jean-clad thigh, "When you keep me safe.”
"Ah, my pretty baby likes feeling protected?”
She nods as she begins to quicken my movements. He stills her hips but before she has a chance to whine about it, he mumbles out a "budge up, baby" so he can slip her panties off her legs. She resists the urge to hiss at the contact, her stomach tightening at the feeling of his thigh muscle against her. For a moment, he inspects the sodden underwear, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“You made quite the mess in these, baby. What got you so turned on?”
She swallows harshly, her chest shaky. “Y-you. Seeing you threaten that guy for me.”
He smirks but decides to leave it at that, feeling the desperate warmth radiating from her core. "Go 'head," he mumbles, leaning back. "Let me see you use me."
She feels her hole contract at his words, mentally cringing as he chuckles. He feels how needy she is and he absolutely loves it.
Slowly, she starts to grind against his thigh, holding in pathetic whimpers at the solid surface making contact with her clit. Harry tsks when he notices her roll her lips into her mouth. She looks down as he moves his hand towards her lower half, momentarily excited that he’ll pet at her the way she’s craving. The dream is short lived when he parts her pussy lips instead to look at the wet mess between them.
"Don't hide your sounds," he scolds, pressing the pad of his fingertip to her clit, rolling it in small circles. "They're too pretty.”
She nods, prepared to continue her movements when she gasps out in surprise. Harry had delivered a swift slap to her clit — not painful enough to ask him to stop, but just enough to deliver a sizzling sensation to her core.
"Tell me you'll moan for me."
"I will, sir," she whines, rutting helplessly against his hand. He smirks and pinches the skin at her inner thigh before nodding again, a wordless order to continue.
Hesitantly, she rocks her hips, building up a slow and intentional pace that hits her clit at the perfect angle. She’s dripping now, embarrassingly so, and making a mess both between their legs and on Harry's, but she’s too turned on to care. There’s something about knowing he’s watching her get off and doing exactly what he asks of her that sends her to another dimension.
It’s not long before she feels a familiar tightening in her stomach. They’d built each other up and up and up, teasing one another until they could barely stand it, so she’s not surprised when her muscles started to clench, pathetic gasps falling from her swollen lips.
"Is my good girl gonna cum?" Harry teases from beneath her. She nods jerkily, her nails digging into his stomach. "Let me see. Cum all over my leg, baby. Make a mess."
Harry's dirty talk is finally what does her in. With a few more rocks of her hips, she’s in heaven, whimpering out calls of his name as she peaks. He holds her hips to keep me on his leg as she bounces helplessly through her orgasm, her eyes slowly blinking open to find a smirk on his face when she finally begins coming down.
"You're heaven sent, y'know that?" he mumbles.
Y/N laughs breathily as she shakes her head, her blushy gaze falling to his lap. He thumbs at her bottom lip and gently nudges her chin up.
“Lemme take you home tonight,” he whispers, cupping her cheek in his palm, “I wanna take care of you.”
She nods. “Yeah, okay. You’ll wait for me to finish my shift?”
“Of course,” he murmurs as he presses his forehead against hers. “Always.”
#writing#harry styles#harry styles writing#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fan fic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles one direction#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#hary styles angst#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#one direction#fine line#harry's house#bodyguardrry#i went through ridiculous things to post this#i hope you all like it lmao
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fratboy!harry x you
hi hi! its been awhile. finally finished this after 3834273 weeks it feels like. its also my first reader fic so....hope you like it HAHAHA.... :)
the one where your friends introduce you to Harry, you go on a trip and things get interesting. featuring a lake house, hiking, and a cherry sucker.
wc: 5.8k
tw: smut 18+, spanking, choking, light dom!harry dynamic, brief clit slapping, brief face slapping, lil bit of cum play, size kink, breeding kink if you squint. idk if i missed anything but as always let me know if i did :)
cherry sucker
Finding solace in the chirping birds and chattering on the street that could be heard from your open window, you stood in front of your closet, clad in a little white tank and baby blue undies, preparing your bag for a camping trip you and your friends had planned. Spring semester has concluded and this trip will commemorate the start of summer vacation. You daydream about the sun glistening off the ripples of the lake water, the smell of the grass wafting in the wind as the sun warms the earth while you pack your bag.
While you were excited for summer, you wanted to get a head start on your reading for fall semester. You had a textbook or two in the bottom of your bag—poli sci books, because you had heard the professor was relentless with his lesson plan and you wanted to go in with no surprises. You hear the faintest footsteps down stairs, growing louder the closer they drew up the stairs. Your door swings open and Faye strides through, red hair flowing behind her at the pace she was walking. She comes up behind you, smacking your ass making you yelp.
“Faye!” You squeal, clutching the cheek that was now turning red with your best friend's hand print.
“I’m so envious of your ass, I just had to.” She falls backwards on your bed, arms sprawling beside her. “It’s just so tempting.” She giggles and you turn back to your closet.
“I’m so glad we actually have time to see each other now that classes are over. School’s been so busy I feel like all I’ve done is sleep and go to class.”
“Is that why you have a fucking textbook in your bag?” Faye raises her eyebrow at your duffle and picks one up. “Russian socioeconomic structure? What even is this?”
“It’s for Professor Sykes. I’ve heard he's brutal and I want to be prepared.”
“You are not bringing this. You have a whole summer ahead of you to study.” Faye scoffs, pausing for a moment. “If you bring this book on this trip I’ll throw it in the lake myself.”
“Then you’ll owe me $200. Besides, what if I get bored?” You cross your arms over your chest and Faye looks at you like you’ve grown another head.
“There’s a lake! A lake!” She throws her hands up in the air, laughing at your determination. You bend down, opening your drawer and pulling out a skimpy yellow bikini to throw in your bag. “By the way, Josh is bringing a friend. His name’s Harry…Styles I think. Do you know him?” You shake your head.
“Know of him, don’t know him though.”
“Oh. Well he’s single…and kind of hot.” Faye giggles and you shake her head again.
“No thanks. I’m not really into the dating scene right now.”
“No one said anything about dating. Just maybe for a little…fun.” This time, it’s your turn to look at Faye like she’s the one who’s grown another head. “Fine. If you don’t want to…maybe he’ll be our third.” She wiggles her eyebrows and you widen your eyes in horror at her suggestion of asking Harry to join her and her boyfriend in their sexual endeavors.
Before you can get another thought in, heavy footsteps clamber up the stairs and it’s Josh, Harry in tow with a backpack slung over his shoulder and suddenly your room feels very small. Josh flicks his eyes to you, smiling and sitting next to Faye on your bed.
“Pauly and Alex are on their way. We’re putting all the shit in their car and you guys are gonna ride with us.” He says, gesturing his finger between the two of you and you nod. The window open brings a warm breeze into the room, blowing your sketchbook pages until it lands on one with a drawing of a man.
Not just any man…it was your ex. Your eyes flick to everyone and you rush over to shut it before anyone can catch it. It was an old drawing, and a hobby you hadn’t picked back up since things ended and you really didn’t feel like rehashing the breakup with Faye. Faye wasn’t the biggest fan of him, and for good reason after he cheated on you with the TA in one of his classes last semester.
Harry stands in the doorway, chewing gum between his molars, his jaw flexing and glances around your room—the bedroom of a girl whom he’d never met, and it felt very personal…like he was getting a peak into who you were as a person. An overflowing bookshelf, handmade drawings stuck to a corkboard on the wall over the desk. Faye and Josh were talking in hushed whispers and he tilted his head to the side as he had the perfect view of your ass as you were turned around and facing your desk. He smirks at the red hand mark left there, and he could feel his cock twitching in his pants at the thoughts running through his head. He drops his gaze as you turn back around to walk towards your closet again. His eyes meet yours and you smile, a greeting showing you were just being nice, and he wonders if you always walk around half dressed in front of strangers. He clears his throat.
“Sykes next semester?” He asks, voice with a hint of an accent you weren’t expecting and you nod.
“How’d you know?” He gestures his elbow towards your bag, the textbook on top of your clothes and your mouth forms and “O” and you nod.
“He teaches that entire fucking book every year. It’s such a snooze fest.” He pauses. “Do you like Russian literature?” You nod again, gesturing to your bookshelf filled with classics and fantasy and romance. You had a few authors on the shelf, but not as many as you would like. He brings his backpack around to his side, unzipping and reaching in. He pulls out a tattered book, crinkles in the cover and the corners turning up, all characteristics of a well loved piece and hands it to you. “Read this instead. A lot more interesting.” He smirks and your gaze drops to the words on the cover. A collection of poems by Anna Akhmatova. In the short conversation you were having you didn’t realize that you had been left alone with him. He smiles, a sly grin spreading on his lips almost like he knew he was about to be a menace.
“By the way, blue looks good on you.” He flicks his gaze down before meeting your eyes again. You feel your cheeks burning instantly as he walks out the door laughing to himself as he stumbles his way down the stairs, leaving you to finish packing alone.
The car ride to the cabin had everyone buzzing with anticipation. Faye had called shotgun, and you and Harry shared a look when she did. He smirked and you looked away and quickly climbed into the backseat. The entire ride you were consumed with a nervous energy that you couldn’t quite place. Harry had his hand splayed out on the seat beside you and when he leaned forward to talk to Josh, the tip of his pinky barely brushed your skin and you tried not to think about it too hard for the rest of the ride over.
It took no time for you to clamber out of the car and claim your room inside for the weekend. Tossing your bag onto the floor by the door, you flopped down on the fluffy mattress holding the book Harry lent you to your chest. You were fiddling with the cover when Faye waltzed in and leaned against the foot of the bed.
“Get up. We’re going on a hike.” She said giddy with excitement and you cocked your eyebrow at her.
“Think I’ll pass.”
“Not an option. Everyone else is going.” She crosses her arms and leans on the doorframe.
“I didn’t bring shoes for a hike.” You half laugh at her with a shake of your head and she narrows her eyes.
“You can wear a pair of mine. Let’s go.” Faye gestures and you groan, tossing the book back onto the bed with a soft thud against the duvet. You pad down the hallway after her, slumped over feigning protest like a toddler and she hands you a pair of her sneakers once you reach her room. Slipping them on, you plait your hair behind your head quickly and messily as you find your way to the foyer where everyone is gathered and waiting to leave. None of them look thrilled either as they follow Faye out the door to the path behind the house.
The June sun was high in the sky and the only reprieve you were able to get from the heat was the occasional shade of the trees along the path. You and Harry had fallen behind, the rest of the group up ahead and through heavy breaths you would sneak glances from the corner of your eye as the sun glistened off the light sheen of sweat coating his shoulders and his chest. He had popped a cherry sucker in his mouth not long ago and you watched as he moved it from one cheek to the other with his tongue and caught your mind wandering to what his tongue might feel like running along the expanse of your skin. You walk in silence, hands brushing slightly from the uneven terrain and you want to apologize for repeatedly bumping him but you don’t.
“Does she always make you do shit like this?” He huffs from behind you, stepping over a fallen limb.
“Unfortunately.” You grumble back, trying not to roll your ankle stepping over rocks bigger than the palm of your hand.
Even though this hike was the last thing Harry wanted to be doing, he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed your company, though little conversation had been exchanged since the moment in your room. His eyes trailed over your body, noticing the bead of sweat rolling down your chest and his tongue darts out over his lips, wanting nothing more than to trail his tongue down the same path. He watched the way your thighs flexed as you stepped over limbs and branches and he thought about them wrapped around his waist, driving into you over and over while your fingers leave marks over his torso. He pulls his shirt over his head, unable to take the heat of the afternoon any longer and he tucks it into the waistband of his shorts. He’s noticed you watching him too, stealing glances out of the corner of your eye and biting your teeth into the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip. He’s convinced that he could do anything and you’d melt into the palm of his hand, so desperate to please him and be good for him. He smirks to himself as you divert your eyes ahead, away from his now bare torso and towards the ground.
He looks at you briefly before his eyes flick ahead, and you don’t know that he’s judging how long it would take for your friends to notice if he pulled you out of sight for a moment. He decides it’s worth the risk, lightly grabbing your arm and pulling you behind a nearby tree. You feel the bark against your back as he cages your head between his arms and you look up at him with wide eyes. All you can hear is the pounding of your heart against your ribcage at his close proximity.
So close you can smell the cherry on his breath, hear the faint sound as the confection clatters against his teeth. Your eyes focus on the white stick poking from between his lips and he watches you. His hands dig into the roughness of the oak and his chest pressed against yours. Suddenly the heat of the afternoon feels suffocating. He brings his own hand to his mouth, plucking the stick from between his teeth and the sticky residue touches your lips. Upon instinct, your tongue darts out to collect, catching the sweetness and savoring it for a moment.
“Open.” His voice is low and gravelly, and for some reason you find yourself obeying his command before you can even think too hard about it. Your lips part and you stick out your tongue in anticipation, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches you and he hums. “Can y’hold this for me, puppy?”
A heat swirls in your core, and without noticing your thighs clench together and a whine escapes your throat as you nod. Harry places the sweet candy on your tongue and your lips wrap around the stick slick from his own salivation. “Good girl.” He mutters, stepping away and creating space between the two of you. You snap out of the trance you seemingly had fallen into and scurry away, catching up to your friends and leaving him laughing behind you.
Nightfall comes before you have a chance to think about it. You had taken a quick nap after you returned from the hike and it was much needed, considering your mind was going haywire and you just needed a break from your thoughts drifting to Harry. It was quiet out here, you and Harry the only ones left sitting next to the fire Josh and Pauly had started a couple of hours ago. You were huddled up under a blanket, the air blowing off the lake making it feel colder than it actually was. Frogs were humming by the water and the crickets were chirping in the grass, the sounds of nature around you made you feel calm. You had the book Harry had loaned you resting against your thigh as you read the prose on the weathered pages. Harry had his head leaned back, fingers weaved together on his chest with his eyes closed. Occasionally you would peek over at him and he seemed tranquil. You weren’t sure why he was still here with you, but maybe he was just enjoying the fire like you were. You had purposely avoided him after the incident on the hike, the memory still causing an arousal to pool beneath the denim of your shorts and you tried like hell to push it from your mind.
“Let’s swim.” He states, pulling you from your thoughts. You raised your brow at him, a quizzical look.
“I’ll pass.” You blow out a laugh and he turns his head towards you then.
“Why? Faye and Josh are off somewhere, probably fucking, and Pauly and Alex are doing bong rips inside. Not really a fan of that…they're incessantly annoying when they’re high. So let’s go swim.” He says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as if it was the most sound choice of activity for this time of night.
“It’s cold, and I’m actually enjoying this book of poems you lent me.” You tell him, and because you’re not looking at him at that second you don’t see the way the corner of his mouth twitches into a half smile.
“Anna Akhmatova is interesting. But you have all weekend to read it.” He turns to face you then, you catch the movement out of your peripheral.
“I also have all weekend to swim.” You tease him. He’s silent for a moment and you turn the page to read the next poem. He shifts in his seat.
“Alright. I didn’t want it to have to come to this…” He says, sighing. He stands, making his way over to you. Before you can process what he’s doing, he snatches the book and throws it onto a neighboring chair. In one swift movement, he picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he walks towards the dock. You thrash and kick but it’s no use, not when he’s stronger than you’ll ever be.
“Harry! Put me down!” You exclaim, laughing in the process and you feel his chest against your thighs. He doesn’t respond. “Okay! I surrender. I’ll swim with you. Please just don’t throw me in.” You try to reason with him and he stops, pausing his movements and taking in your words. He plants your feet on the weathered wood, and you look up at him with narrowed eyes as he smiles down at you, a crooked grin that had your knees feeling weak. “That wasn’t funny. I don’t have a swim suit on either.”
“I guess that gives us a perfect excuse to go skinny dipping then.” He states as if there’s nothing wrong with that scenario.
“Respectfully, no. I’ll swim in my clothes.” You counter back.
“Sweet girl, it’s nothing you or I haven’t seen before. Be mature.” He teases and you want to laugh, but you cross your arms over your chest, instinctively making yourself smaller. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of his shorts before looking back at you, noticing your hesitation and he stops. “We really don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He puts his hands on your arms, and you shake your head, looking out at the ripples on the surface lit by the moon.
“No it’s—I’m not—it’s fine. I want to. I just haven’t really taken my clothes off in front of a guy in—since…” You pause, collecting your thoughts before looking up at him. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t know why I’m being this way. I think I’m just nervous.”
“You don’t have to feel that way around me. Promise.” He smiles and turns back around, pushing his shorts down so you have a view of his bare ass. Your cheeks redden as you avert your gaze elsewhere, and he jumps into the water with a splash. You can’t see him, not until he pokes his head back up and shakes the water from his hair. “It feels great.” He covers his eyes with his hands. “I won’t look if you don’t want me to. Not until you’re in the water.” He says and you nod, and then realizing he can’t see you clear your throat.
“Okay.” Your voice feels small. Hesitantly you unbutton your shorts, sliding them down along with your underwear and pulling the sweatshirt over your head leaving you bare and exposed, and you hoped and prayed that Alex and Pauly weren’t watching out the window. You drop it to the dock, your clothes and his making separate piles, taking a step towards the edge and looking down into the water. Here goes nothing, you say to yourself and leap in. And he was right, it really did feel great. It envelopes around you as you swim upwards and breach the surface, wiping your eyes and opening them. He’s there in front of you, a smile plastered on his face.
“See, s’not so bad, right?” He asks and you shake your head again as you tread the water. And you both stay like that for a while, swimming and floating. He floats on his back and you try a little too hard to not let your gaze travel south, focusing on his face and how content he looks with his eyes closed. You’re too busy staring at the tattoos littering his torso when he says something you don’t quite catch.
“Hm?” Your gaze flits back to his face and he’s smiling.
“I said,"Do you like what you see?” He laughs and you can feel your cheeks redden because he caught you staring at him.
“I’m sorry.” You apologize sheepishly and he swims over to you, closing the distance and you bite back a grin at the close proximity.
“Don’t need to apologize, sweet girl.” He says, his voice low and he brings his hand up to thumb over your lips, parting them before his thumb runs over your cheek. “Be lying if I said I haven’t been staring at you all night.” He confesses and you think if you were nervous before, then you’re not sure what you’re feeling right now. It feels like a stampede of elephants is running through your belly as he runs the backs of his fingers across your cheek. You decide to just rip the bandaid off and go for it. Your hands find his face and you crash your lips to his, and he’s taken off guard but the next second his hands dip under the water and he pulls you into him, the warmth of your bodies melding together underneath the surface. Upon instinct, your legs wrap around his waist as you push your chest into him, causing him to tighten his grip on your waist, dimpling the skin beneath his fingertips.
It was almost like neither of you needed to speak, once the kiss had broken you both swam fervently towards the dock. He hoists you up by your waist, quickly dressing just to go inside and get undressed again. He pulls you by your hand towards the cabin, and you say a silent prayer that your friends who were in here made their way outside.
By the grace of some higher power, the house was empty and the air inside was cold and smelled of the aftershocks of bong rips and a half smoked joint. Harry pulled you down the hall, into his room, and shut the door behind him with a click of the lock.
He smirks and he pushes you down into the bed, hair wet and sticking to the skin of your neck. He crawls over you after pulling your shorts off and throwing them somewhere across the room, slotting a knee between your thighs and instinctively you grind against him, gripping onto his biceps. He hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties and slides them down your thighs in one swift move, and you kick them the rest of the way off in anticipation.
“Been thinking about taking those off since I saw you prancing around your room in them this morning.” His voice drops an octave as he ghosts the tip of his nose along your cheek , tracing the outline of your jaw as you desperately move your hips seeking for any friction it would give you. He pulls back, looking over your features and you can see his pupils blown from his own pleasure.
“Look at you.” He coos, clicking his tongue behind his teeth. “Taking before I can even give anything to you, so selfish.” He purrs, and somehow the tone of it makes you stop, halting the movement of your hips.
“No. Go ahead, angel. Wanna watch you get yourself off just from riding my thigh. Need it so bad, can’t even help yourself.” He coos, but his tone is condescending and you almost question him. He raises a brow, running a thumb over your cheek delicately. The harsh tone of his voice and the softness of his touch playing mind games with you. “Do it. Be a good girl.” He encourages you, and you feel like it’s a trap.
“N-no. Want whatever you wanna give me. I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” You pout your lower lip out and he thumbs over it, pulling it down before it bounces back into place. You like that he takes initiative, being dominant over you like it comes so easily for him. He can see the wheels in your mind turning and he cocks his head to the side.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just never done this before. Never had someone be…” You trail off, but he nods like he already knew what you were going to say.
“I see. Sweet girl’s never had someone take control over her?” You shake your head. He rolls his lip between his teeth, eyes flittering around your face. “But you crave it, don’t you? Just wanna be a cock-drunk little slut? Wanna have someone filling you, telling you what to do?” His words penetrate your brain and your eyes flutter closed. “Answer me. Is that what you want?” He demands and you nod, faster than you ever have and he flashes his pretty smile at you.
“Yes. Please.” Finding your voice, begging him. He shifts, pressing his thigh into your center and a whimper falls from your lips, the heat growing between your thighs.
“Go.” He leans down, pressing his lips to your pulse point and trailing kisses down your collar bone. Slowly, your hips begin to move and you’re almost embarrassed at your arousal coating his skin, glistening in the soft glow of the lamp. You push the thoughts away, focusing on your pleasure as you feel his hardening length against your thigh, pressing into you. You reach down, palming him through the material before he grabs your wrist and pins it above your head. “Didn’t tell you you could touch.” He mumbles against your skin and you whine in protest. Your hips move faster now, and you’re so close. Just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls away and your lungs deflate, a breath being taken away from you. He stands over you, pushing his shorts down and your eyes widen at the sight of him. You want to reach out and grab him, pump his cock with your hand but you refrain. He leans over you again, planting kisses down your chest and dipping in the valley between your tits, his nose ghosting over your skin.
“Want you to tell me red if you wanna stop, okay? Green if you wanna keep going. Got it?” He asks and you nod. He peeks up at you through his lashes and cocks his brow. “Words, puppy. Can’t hear a nod or a shake.”
“Yes. I’m—yes. Got it” You’re breathless with your answer. He peppers small kisses over your navel, gripping your hips between his fingers as his head dips lower, kissing the insides of both thighs, trailing his tongue over your skin and purposely skipping over your weeping hole just to make you squirm under his grip. He parts you open then, collecting your arousal on his tongue and the wicked sensation makes your back arch from the bed, pushing your core closer to him and he forces you back down.
“Uh-uh. Stay still or I’ll stop.” He mumbles, and a whine bubbles in your throat. He laps lazily st your core, circling and flattening his tongue over your clit as you try your hardest to keep your hips still. His fingers dimple your skin, digging into the muscle underneath. He knew he was gripping hard enough to leave small bruises in the shape of his fingertips, and he wanted to. Wanted you to remember his head between your thighs as you shattered just from the flick of his tongue against your sensitive bud. You’re a mess of moans and panting his name over and over. He pulls your clit between his teeth and your hips jolt upwards and he pushes you back down to the mattress. He pulls away, and your chest heaves at the loss of contact but a cry escapes your throat when he lands a light smack to your center, and the pain morphes into pleasure as tears well up in your eyes at the sting.
“Told you to stay still. Can’t follow simple directions, angel?”
“M’s—sorry.” You gasp and he glances up at you, noticing your wet lashes and he props himself up on his elbows.
“What's your color, sweet girl?” His tone is gentle, planting a soft kiss to the top of your thigh and peeking up at you from under his lashes.
“Green.” You answer eagerly and he smiles against your skin, crawling back up to level with your eyes. His lips find yours and you open, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth against your own, the room around you melting away. It’s slow, sensual and full of desire. He doesn’t pull away as he lines himself up with you, the tip of his cock teasing your aching hole and you move your hips trying like hell to get him further inside.
“So needy.” He mumbles against your lips and pulls your bottom one between his teeth, nipping gently. He pushes into you slowly, your mouth dropping open as he lays his forehead against your collarbone. “So tight, sweet girl. I don’t think m’gonna fit.” He pushes into you further, teeth marking your skin as he groans against your skin and you whine at the sting of him stretching you.
“Fuck, Harry.” You whimper, he cages your head between his hands, holding himself up as his biceps flex and extend, the sinewy tissue underneath his skin prominent. He looks down between your bodies, where he's halfway sheathed inside your pussy and he chuckles, a breathy laugh that morphs into a sigh.
“Pretty little pussy looks so pitiful like this. Can’t do it, puppy.” He pants, and you know somewhere in the back of your mind that he’s just playing a part, but it doesn’t stop the cry that escape from your throat as you beg him to fuck you.
“Please, Harry. Need you. Want you so much. Can take it, promise. Please.” You look up at him with wide eyes and he admires you for a moment, taking in the pout playing on your pretty mouth that he just wants to kiss away, the tears welling in your eyes that he’ll wipe away if they fall. The need in your voice letting him know you’d do anything he asks of you in this moment.
“Alright, I’ll give it to you. Gonna go slow til you’re all stretched out f’me.” He palms your thighs, hiking them around his waist and continues to fill you, your head lulling to the side as your eyes flutter closed and your jaw falls slack when he reaches to the hilt, balls resting against your ass as his head falls back. “So fucking good, angel. Look at me, wanna see those pretty eyes.”
So you listen, do the best you can to force your eyes open as he starts to rock his hips into you, pulling out to the tip before filling you up again and again. He hikes your leg over his shoulder, kissing down your calf as he sets his rhythm, going deeper from this angle. His eyes never leave yours as he groans and nibbles on your skin, peppering small bites and then soothing with his tongue. He hits the right spot every time, and when your eyes finally betray you and fall closed, you feel a smack land on your cheek. Not hard, but just enough to sting and you whimper.
“Thought you were a good girl.” He says through gritted teeth and he drives into you harder.
“I-I am. Want to be good for you.” He grunts at your response, he pulls out and flips you over before pulling your ass up in the air so you sit on your knees with your face down in the mattress. He palms your ass, landing a smack to your cheek. He rubs over the spot gently, soothing as you push closer into his touch and he's climbing behind you, lining up and pushing back in and it feels even better from this angle. Hitting every spot just right and you swear you see stars. He reaches around you, pushing on your tummy just under your navel and wraps his other hand around your throat lightly, pulling you up.
Your back is flush with his chest, skin sticking together from the light sheen of sweat coating both your bodies. One hand squeezing the sides of your neck and the other pressing still on your belly and he nips at your ear.
“Can feel me all the way in your tummy, can’t you? This is what you like right? Nobody’s ever had you like this have they?” He whispers and you shake your head. His hand finds yours and he brings it back to the spot just below your belly button. “Feel that? Feel me so deep in this pretty pussy. Gonna get you all full of me, fill you with my babies.” He grits and squeezes your neck a little harder, the corners of your vision darkening before he lets go and you take in a full breath, feeling high on him…and he’s all you know. His words, his hands roaming your body and his cock stretching you.
“Harry, I’m so close.” You breathe out and he grunts, lips ghosting over your shoulder blade.
“I know…can feel you squeezing my cock so tight angel. C’mon. Cum for me.” He encourages you and you shatter around him, pussy pulsing around him bringing him to his own release as he paints inside you. He wastes no time pulling out and you topple over from your legs feeling weak and he dips down behind you. You feel him dripping out of your hole, and his fingers spread you open. Pushing one inside with no warning, he fucks his cum back inside of you with his fingers and you hum, unable to make any other noise and he chuckles behind you.
“Like being filled like this? Look so pretty full of me, dripping out of you. Never gonna forget it.” He mutters, planting a kiss on the small of your back before standing. Finding the energy to roll over, he offers his fingers to you and you take them between your lips and taste the mix of both of you on his fingers. He curses under his breath at the sight of you, feeling his cock twitching back to life and he pulls them away to stop himself thinking about fucking you again and again.
You slept in his bed that night.
The weekend ended all too quickly, and you were half asleep in the back seat of Josh’s car with your head resting on the window, holding Harry’s book on your thighs and fiddling wither cover, something you had become accustomed to as you read the prose on the pages or when you closed in while engaging in conversation. Truthfully, you didn’t know if you’d see him in that capacity again after this weekend and didn’t know if you wanted to go back to being strangers that passed each other in the economics building on campus.
Josh pulled up to the house you and Faye shared, and Harry follows you out of the car. He retrieves your bag from Pauly’s car for you, carrying it up to your room and putting it down on your bed. You almost felt like you were having deja vu, the scene similar to one from Thursday afternoon, except this time you weren’t half naked in front of him and he wasn’t just a stranger in your room anymore. You look around, then to the floor before meeting his eyes and he smirks as he leans against your doorframe.
“Here.” You hand him the book but he puts his hands up, shaking his head.
“Keep it.” He says, and you almost refuse but accept it anyway. He bites the inside of his cheek, shifting his weight and shoving his hands in his pockets. He steps closer, brushing your hair behind your ear as you look up at him. “Don’t be a stranger, angel.”
“I won’t be.”
He leaves you there, standing in the middle of the room with his book clutched to your chest with a cheesy grin plastered on your face.
And you knew it wouldn't be the last time you saw Harry Styles.
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Ever since New York
what it is: in which YN is Harry Styles's personal assistant, but maybe she should quit her job?
September.
Harry was running late. He knew he was running late because he didn’t even have the time to check on his phone how much late he was running. He hated being late. It wasn’t really in his character. In his manners. It’s not because he didn’t like people waiting on him, he loves being the center of attention; he loves having all eyes on him when he enters a room.
He just didn’t like being late because of the wasted time. Wasted time he took off work. And as of right now, work was pretty much his life. His purpose.
So being late, was kind of a big deal to him.
Y/N, on the other hand, was used to being late. And she, too, hated it. She hated the attention it came with it. But it was just in her nature, not because she wanted it, but because it happened to her. Like this morning. Her go-to local Starbucks was swamped with people, and she really wanted a pumpkin spice latte, since it was almost the beginning of fall and she still hadn’t had one.
So, it’s not like she could skip the coffee run. But said coffee run took longer than expected and made her late to her job interview. On top of that, once she exited the cafe, winning cup of coffee slightly burning her hand, it started raining, and of course she hadn’t bought her umbrella, because who brings an umbrella to a job interview?, and plus she really couldn’t be bothered to carry the weight of said object with her all around New York.
So, when she enters the Madison Square Garden Arena, she’s soaked. She almost can hear the squishy sound her Converse make as she walks, her socks feeling rather scratchy against her skin.
She jogs a little towards the backstage area, trying to recall what was said on the email that was sent to her with all the interview details. She’s breathing heavily through her nose, not really used to all the running she had to endure, and she feels hot. She’s positive the heater is on and the sudden contrast with the chilly September air makes her coat feel too warm and her jeans too tight.
She takes a moment to stop herself, trying to calm her heart and breathing down as she takes small sips of her drink. She’s already late, soaked, and sweaty, she might as well enjoy her well awaited drink in peace. She’s sure she’s not going to get the job, anyway. Leave it to her to think she’d fail before even trying.
Harry Styles personal assistant? Yes, she’s known to be a dreamer, but not to that extent. When her friend Anna had told her that her boyfriend had a friend that went to college with Jeff Azoff (she didn’t even know that said Jeff went to college), that he was looking for trustworthy people who could be fit for the job and that he had recommended YN, she thought Anna was pulling a sad excuse of a prank on her. Little did she know, about ten days later, she’d gotten an email from Jeff himself where he asked her if she was down for a little get-to-know-me interview.
Anna knew how much YN needed the job.Young, jobless, and living in New York didn’t really go together too well, and she knew that YN wanted to save as much money as possible to fulfill her life’s dream of studying art in Florence, so she pressured her friend to at least go to the interview. So that’s how she got herself in this situation, sipping her coffee while she regained her breath.
She’s so lost in her own train of thoughts that she doesn’t even realize she stopped in the middle of a hallway. She’s reading a flyer on the wall absentmindedly when she’s hit by a big, sturdy object that makes her loose her balance. She tries to grip her hands onto something to gain some kind of balance, but that only results in her coffee exploding from its own paper cup that she squeezed too hard, the cap flying off and falling on the ground.
“Fuck!” She exclaims as her bum hits the floor with a loud thump. She can feel the coffee on her coat and all over her hands as she raises her eyes from her pumpkin scented, soaked coat and lays her sight on what she thought was an object, but was, actually, a person. Her employer, more like. If she wasn’t convinced enough that she wasn’t going to get the job, she’s sure as hell now.
“What the fuck!” Harry, who had been running really fast to try and get on time to this stupid interview he had to endure, really hadn’t taken in consideration that someone could be standing in the middle of the hallway he was running down on.
So, he really thought it was safe to run and check his phone at the same time; big mistake.
It’s not like he was checking his phone for his own personal business, he was just texting Jeff that he was on his way.
“Who stands in the middle of a fucking hallway!” He shouts, but he isn’t even looking at her as he speaks. He’s looking at his shirt, that now has a big, beige colored, stain on it.
He grips the hem of the shirt with his hands and brings the stained part to his nose, which he scrunches immediately in disgust: “is this regular milk? God, it’s making me sick”.
YN really couldn’t get anything out of her mouth as she slowly gets up from her position on the floor and raises to her feet. She knows she’s supposed to say something, maybe apologize, but it suddenly feels like she doesn’t know how to talk anymore. She’s afraid, if she speaks, she’d blabber something incoherent and make a fool out of herself. Not that she didn’t already.
Plus, if she’s really being honest, he kind of sounds like an asshole, so she’s not particularly keen on begging for his forgiveness.
“If you were walking like a normal person, this wouldn’t have happened!” She murmurs, but he’s already too far out of reach to hear, otherwise she’s sure he would’ve said something else. She heavily sighs as she walks behind him, careful to leave a big amount of space between them so it doesn’t look like she’s following him.
When she enters the room, after knocking gently on the door, he’s already sat on the chair next to Jeff, a bunch of papers scattered on the desk in front of them.
She clears her throat a little and Jeff raises his eyes to her, giving her a small smile and gesturing to the chair in front of them.
Harry, arm bent at the elbow, one hand under the table and the other holding his phone, doesn’t bother to look at who came in until he’s finished reading his emails. He wouldn’t have to read his emails if he hadn’t wasted his time by being late, and mostly by being tackled by a wet puppy looking girl and her stupid pumpkin spice latte. The said pumpkin spice latte that is all over his designer shirt.
When he finally raises his glance, he’s met with a pair of big, wide eyes that remind him of those of a scared deer caught in headlights, and there’s no hint of a joke in his tone as he says: “fuck no.”
...
YN wonders whether she should quit.
It’s not her fault, really, and it’s not like she isn’t trying. She thinks she’s doing a fairly good job.
She’s trying really hard to make up for the coffee incident, and she begged Harry to tell her where he got his shirt so she could at least repurchase it for him, but once he’d told her it was Gucci, she realized it cost more than her rent so she let it go… trying the best she could to watch where she was going as to not repeat the accident again.
Harry is… well, he’s kind of difficult to work with.
She doesn’t know whether it’s because of the coffee incident or because he just doesn’t like her, but he’s really stand-offish.
He doesn’t talk much to her — only when the work demands it, and at first it was fine, YN understood why he’d act like that, but now it’s just getting kind of frustrating, especially because he’s making her job ten times harder than it already is.
She’s determined to show him that just because they started off on the wrong foot, she’s not just some clumsy little girl that had to have friends in the right places to get a job!
“Harry?” She trails off, peeking her head inside his dressing room.
He’s sitting on the couch, his back bent down and his hands fiddling with his shoe laces.
YN notices he’s dressed in his workout clothes (a pair of Nike shorts and a black tee), and she wonders whether he’s going to the gym? Maybe back at the hotel? It would be rather bothersome to go all the way back but she doesn’t say anything since it’s not her place.
When he hears her he raises his head to look at her, his brows hiking up high on his forehead. YN wonders why he’s even surprised to see her… she’s been on his ass for a month straight now, never really leaving his side unless when necessary.
“Hey” he greets her, nodding his head towards her.
“I finished everything you asked me t’do” she smiles, and if she wasn’t sure he’d find a way to piss her off, she would’ve felt at least somewhat triumphant. But she doesn’t.
Because she knows Harry doesn’t like her, so no matter what she does, it will never be good enough to redeem herself.
“Everything, really?” He asks surprised, “hav’you folded all the merch like I asked?” When YN nods he goes on, “ironed my outfit?” She nods once again, “and ‘s my schedule ready for tomorrow?”
“Yes.” She nods swiftly, “I even color coded it” she grins.
He seems to think a bit about his next words, and then, “okay, then. Help me work out, will ya?” he says, refraining himself from smiling a mischievous smile at the sound of her groan.
He’s sure it wasn’t intentional, and she feels extremely embarrassed and hopes he hasn’t noticed or at least won’t call her out on it.
“Let’s go, YN, I don’t have all day” he chuckles darkly, patting her on the cheek as he walks past her.
YN knows she should definitely quit.
...
“What the hell is this! I thought ye said it was all done?”
YN really feels like she could cry. She’s 22 years old and she’s on the verge of crying on her job. A job she begged God to get, a job that’s fundamental to get her in the art school she’s always dreamed of.
Things haven’t been easy.
Harry has been a dick to her every day and there’s only so much one can take.
He’s mean, rude, and always cold. He never smiles even when she brings him coffee (black with no dairy milk because it nauseates him), he never praises her (not even when she color codes his google calendar), and every time she enters a room he hushes as if he’s telling this great secret she’s not supposed to hear.
Today has been a long day.
She’d woken up at 5 am to grab him breakfast (not that he demanded it, but she felt as if she needed to in order for them to start the day on a good note — it hasn’t worked, it seems) and after that, she’d watched him workout at the gym in the hotel, the stuffy room nauseating her to the point where she had to beg him to turn the AC on to let the air change.
After his workout, she’d made her way to the venue.
He’s playing at Madison Square Garden tonight, and even if it’s not his first time, the tension could be felt in the air and in the way he huffed and puffed at everything she did.
It’s her job to take care of the merch stand inside the arena, no matter what city they are in, she has to fold the merch and make the stand presentable and organized, so when the staff comes in before the show everything is neat and clean.
She’s been doing this for a month now so she knows what Harry likes and how he demands it to be cleaned, and until now nothing about her work had disappointed him. So why is he acting like she’s this major screw up that can’t fold clothes?
It’s not the fact that he’s doubting her that hurts her, it’s the fact that he’s doubting her honesty.
It was all finished. She had folded all the merch like he asked and the stand was in perfectly good tidiness when she left it; sadly, that’s not how Harry had found it, much later and much closer to the show.
Maybe his pre show jitters made him a little more on edge, because the way he’s stomping his feet and pointing at the merch is making her feel really guilty for not doing her job correctly. Even if it wasn’t her fault, she should’ve checked before telling him she was all done!
“Harry,” she trails off, and she feels pathetic as she hears her voice come out all watery, “I swear, i did like you asked. Why would I lie!”
She’s almost begging and pleading him, her eyes stinging with the devious tears she’s trying really hard not to let fall.
“I don’t know why. But why is the stand in this mess? You know this can’t happen before a show, YN!” He reprimands her sternly.
YN feels like she’s a bad student getting yelled at by her teacher, and she gulps before saying “I know, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it now! Tidy here and then sod off!”
She nods her head quickly and hurries to get back behind the stand, folding the clothes as fast as she can to fix the mess quickly. She hears him walk away with a grunt, and once he’s out of her line of sight she feels the warm tears start falling from her eyes.
Finally.
She chokes down a sob as she keeps tidying up, wondering what the hell happened to the very organized stand she’d left.
Once she’s done, she double checks everything to make sure (just in case) and then she climbs over the counter to get out. She quickly makes her way to the dressing room as she hears the buzzing of the fans standing outside the venue, waiting trepidating for the gates to open, and she’s thankful she’d been fast, otherwise Harry would’ve fired her on the spot.
She gathers her work bag and tosses all her belongings inside, sneaking out of the door when she realizes Harry is inside the bathroom showering.
She doesn’t bother to call a Uber. She chooses to walk, hoping that the fresh air could soothe the headache that crying had left her with.
It’s a little bit chilly, but she welcomes the cold October weather with contentment, finally free of the heat weave that had populated her summer days. She wishes she could enjoy it more, and if it wasn’t for her mood, maybe she would’ve grabbed a little drink and a sweet treat on her way back. But there wasn’t anything sweet about the way Harry had treated her, so she walks sulkily back to the hotel, ready to pack her bags and leave. She’s decided. She doesn’t want to be his assistant for not even another day.
It had been a long day.
…
it’s past 11pm when Harry crosses the threshold of his hotel room, immediately tossing his sweaty clothes on the chair next to the small desk. His room is nice, big but not uncomfortably large to the point of making him feel lonely, and his bed is soft just the way he likes it, and he can’t wait to shower and get under the covers, but… there’s something he needs to do first.
So, he quickly showers and changes into way more comfortable clothes, a pair of black sweats and a grey treat people with kindness hoodie, slipping his vans on and walking immediately out of the door.
He’d like to say the uneasiness he feels in his belly is hunger (he had only soup for dinner), but it’s definitely not. He’s nervous. And he feels like a dick. And he doesn’t really know what to say to YN to make it up to her.
Should he say he was just tense because of the show? In his mind he knows that wouldn’t be too believable, because he’s been doing shows for most of his life, and if he acted the way he did before any of them, he probably wouldn’t have many friends.
As he’s searching for things to say, he hasn’t even realized he ended up in front of her door, the light beige wood dooming on him and almost making fun of him.
He closes his hand into a fist and knocks on the door, the pit of his stomach prickling.
YN opens the door almost immediately, and he wonders whether she was waiting for him.
He knows she wasn’t as soon as he sees her face fall once her eyes land on him.
She actually looks pretty cute, all snuggly and sleepy dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and sleep shorts, but when she looks up at him he notices her eyes are a faint red color, and his heart tugs in his chest when he realizes she had been crying.
It was never his intention to make her cry, and he really does feel bad.
“What?” She asks dismissively, her body still shielding the room from his view.
“Know ‘s late but… Can I come in?” He asks wryly, his breath coming out in puffs out of his nose as if he had been running.
“I don’t know” she ponders.
“Please, YN”
She takes a moment to reflect and then opens her door wider (he’s technically still her boss), turning to the side to let him in.
She closes the door behind him and waits for him to talk with her arms crossed against her chest. He doesn’t really know where to start, whether he should address the fact that she’s been crying or how he treated her, so he settles on “how are you?” And he feels stupid as soon as the words leave his mouth. She sniffles before shrugging.
“Sorry, that was stupid” he pinches the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head.
YN doesn’t know what happens next.
She’s probably just tired, and maybe really hurt by how Harry treated her so she… she starts crying.
She feels her eyes fill with tears, stinging her water line. And it’s really embarrassing but she really doesn’t care. She figures he’s going to fire her anyway so she might as well let it all out.
She chokes down a sob, turning her head to the side to be as subtle as possible, but he notices straight away, walking quickly towards her.
“YN please don’t cry” he pleas, stretching a hand out to her to squeeze her shoulder.
“I’m sorry” she sobs, hiding her face and her tears behind her hands, pressing the tip of her fingers to her eyelids.
Harry really doesn’t know what to do. He thinks of himself as a good person and a good friend but this is different. He’s supposed to be her boss. But, he realizes, he’s also the reason she’s crying, and Harry is everything but cruel, so he tugs her by the shoulder into his chest, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his hand caressing her back soothingly.
She sobs into his chest, and “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened with that stand. I did everything like you asked”.
“It’s okay, it’s okay” he comforts.
To really tell the truth, Harry had forgotten all about the clothes. Yes, he had been pissed about the conditions he found the merch stand in, but she had tided up quickly, so in his mind everything was forgiven. He hadn’t really realized how stern he had come off to her.
“YN I’m not mad about the merch stand. I’m so sorry I was so rude”
“No,” she’s quick to object, “I get it, you want everything to be perfect. Trust me I know! But I’m trying my best to make everything perfect like you want” she sniffles, pulling her face away from his chest.
She dries her face with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, sighing heavily.
“You’re doing a great—“ he starts, but she interrupts him immediately, “I don’t know how to work with you if you’re like this. You’re probably going to fire me for saying this but I can’t stand this anymore” she shakes her head to reinforce her words.
“Please don’t say that! I don’t want to fire you! I think you’re doin’ a really good job”
“Really?” She asks surprised, he’s never really told her that.
“Yes, of course! I’m so sorry I’ve been a dick to you, for this past month. I… I’ve got some trust issues, ya know? and It takes me a while to get accustomed to new people but… I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. It’s not your fault”
“I thought you kind of hated me” she admits.
“I could never,” he shakes his head, “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way”
“Yeah” she sniffles, “you really were a dick” she chuckles once she sees the surprised look on his face. “Plus I’m the only one who knows how to make your little soup” she adds.
“Oh, you’re right” he agrees, “I could never fire you, then. You’re trapped”
“Ah! You’re trapped” she giggles, the tears starting to dry on her face and a bit of color returning to her cheeks.
“But… really, I’m so sorry. I promise it won’t happen again” he says again, looking directly in her eyes to make sure she understands he’s serious.
“Okay” she says softy, sniffling.
“Now” he trails off, “I’m really hungry. Should we go get something to eat?”
October
“Halloween is not fun.” Harry says, crossing his arms on his chest like a petulant child.
YN rolls her eyes for what seems like the millionth time, a groan escaping from her parted lips: “but it is!!” She says again.
The discussion had been opened by Harry himself, claiming he didn’t understand all the excitement YN had claimed to be feeling about Halloween.
It’s not like he doesn’t like Halloween, he just doesn’t like… scary stuff.
He hates horror movies and he hates everything paranormal — sure, he loves Twilight (he’s watched it twice already since fall started) but that movie according to him is on a whole other level, and it can’t be described as scary as much as it is angst-y.
So, when he heard YN all giddy and giggly about this god awful day, he couldn’t just not say what he really thinks of it. Of course she’d love Halloween, Harry thinks.
“I think you just never truly had the whole Halloween experience” she shrugs from her position on the couch.
“Trust me,” he says seriously, “I did. Jeff forced me to watch all the Saw movies… it was awful. Couldn’t sleep properly until Christmas”
YN has to refrain herself from laughing.
“That’s not what I mean! Watching scary movies is like… the last thing on the list of fun things to do for Halloween”
“Yeah?” He challenges, turning around in his turning chair to face her, his skin dewy with the moisturizer he’d been massaging on his face.
“Yes! My favorite is pumpkin painting” she beams excitedly.
“Pumpkin painting? You have to have made that up” he furrows his brows.
“What! No! It’s been a thing for… Ugh I don’t know but it’s really fun and I always do it. Come see!” She pats the couch next to her and grabs her phone from the pocket of her hoodie, opening her camera roll and scrolling with her finger until she reaches last year.
He rolls his eyes at her, getting up from the chair nonetheless.
He doesn’t sit next to her, instead he towers over her and lowers his head to look at the screen of her phone, his shin touching her knees “ye have a lot of pictures on that damn phone”.
“Shh!! Here!” She opens the pic and shows it to him: a big pumpkin rests on what seems like a kitchen counter, its previous orange skin painted the brightest shade of pink, with some white splotches of paint that Harry thinks could be little ghosts by their pair of eyes made with two black dots.
“Wow… that clearly is something…”
“okay! — she sighs, locking her phone — I didn’t say I was good at it. ‘S just fun an’ I always do it with me mum!” She lifts her head and their eyes lock, his are a bright emerald green today, and she can see herself reflected in them, clearly, and she wonders for a moment how he sees her, what he thinks of her. It lasts only a moment, though, because he averts his gaze quickly, and just as quickly he straightens his posture, towering over her once again.
“‘S a cute idea” he agrees, taking a step back to put some distance between them.
YN nods in agreement, picking up her laptop to get back to work immediately.
Everything is green.
…
Harry is hiding something.
He’s been giddy all day and YN noticed first thing in the morning, when she happened to toe his shoe off when he was walking in front of her and he didn’t say anything (it’s the only thing that drives him mad. Like… really mad. He once snapped at her in front of everyone because she kept doing it — accidentally of course). Now, this is not to say Harry can’t have a good day. Since that night in her hotel room, things have been really good between them, and even if their relationship is strictly professional, YN wonders whether a friendship could blossom between them.
But, she’s also gotten to know him rather well in the two months she’s been working for him, and she knows when he’s hiding something.
It all started yesterday, when he pretended he had to run some errands alone, and demanded YN stayed at the hotel “to check no one broke into his room” which is a really fucking stupid excuse. When he got back to his room it was late in the night and YN was snacking on some chips, all snuggled up and cozy in his bed, on the verge of falling asleep.
Nothing seemed different about him since the last time she saw him, and she wondered for a brief minute whether he went out to meet with someone. Having a personal assistant be with you 24/7 can be really invalidating to any romantic relationship someone could want to establish.
If the only way harry could get a significant other (or even only a sneaky link, YN isn’t one to judge) was to hide from her and demanded her to stay back, it was really pathetic on her part. She pretends like the thought of Harry with someone else doesn’t irritates her. (She’s been stuck all evening in his hotel room while he went out and about!!)
“Whatcha doin’ in my bed, pet?” He teases once he enters the room, toeing his shoes off and leaving them by the door.
“Your bed is way comfier than mine” she grins, squeezing the comforter closer to her body.
“I bet” he chuckles.
“Yeah. But I’m the one working all day so I should get the comfier bed” she shrugs.
“You’re working?” He says, feigning shock as he brings a hand to his chest, “I thought you were my friend willingly!”
“Oh fuck” she sighs, “Jeff told me not to tell you… I must have forgotten”
“You really are a menace” he chuckles and she giggles, making room for him as he plops down next to her.
“What are ye watchin’?”
“Just an old episode of How to get away with murder” she says, pressing the “ok” button on the remote to show him the title.
“Never heard of tha’” he furrows his brows, repositioning himself so his legs are stretched out in front of him.
“You’ve never… what?! That’s crazy! This is probably the best tv show since Grey’s Anatomy went down hill!”
“Is it scary?” He asks, his brows furrowing on his forehead.
“No, not in that sense at least”
“Okay, then.” He gestures to the remote, “let’s watch it.”
She grins at him and nods, selecting the first episode from the menu. She presses play and when the show starts running, she grabs the chips she was previously nibbling on, putting them between their bodies and telling him that if he wants some to just take them.
The light from the tv illuminates the otherwise dark room, and YN has to refrain herself from turning her head to look at his profile.
She smiles Every time he gasps when something unexpected happens, and when the first episode ends, he begs her to put the second straight away. She does, and she listens to his calm breaths that almost lull her to sleep. The bed is comfortable and his warmth from beside her makes her feel safe and soft, and YN thinks it’s really nice he’s doing this with her. She doesn’t stop to wonder what it means.
…
It’s only the next day that YN gets to finally find out what Harry has been hiding.
Turns out, he actually wasn’t sneaking out to meet someone behind her back!
That morning Harry had knocked loudly on her door, tantalizingly sing-songing her name. When she had opened the door, still wearing her pjs and her hair all messy, she had furrowed her brows deeply on her forehead: “Harry!” She had reprimanded him, “it’s 7 in the morning!”
“Shh, lemme come in” he begged, jumping on his place excitedly.
He’s wearing his workout clothes and YN knows from his schedule that he has an appointment with his personal trainer at 7.30.
“What’s wrong?”
“Tonight, after the show, don’t make any plans. I need you for something very serious and very important.”
And YN would really like to tell him that it’s not like she’d ever make any plans that didn’t revolve around him, but she nods nonetheless, still a bit startled from his irruption in her room that early in the morning.
That’s how they ended up here, on the floor of his hotel room, probably more than thirty tubes of paint splattered messily in front of them, and two giant pumpkins resting between their legs.
“It’s officially a week before Halloween!” Harry had said, taking the pumpkin out of the bag and showing it to her triumphantly.
YN had gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth shockingly. Never in a million years would she have thought that was what he planned to do.
She feels warm inside, like a light has been switched up and is warming all her limbs, her chest, her belly. She doesn’t know if he realizes how much this means to her.
She carefully takes the pumpkin he’s handing to her and sits cross legged on the floor. He sits down next to her, and their knees are brushing with every movement one of them makes.
“Pass me the remote, please?” He asks.
She nods and grabs it from the bed behind her, handing it to him.
“I really need to find out who killed her” he says seriously, turning the tv on. “Is it Sam?”
YN chuckles sitting next to him, shaking her head as she bends her back down to grab a paint brush.
“I’m not tellin’ you! That takes away all the fun”
“I don’t care, YN. I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t tell me!”
“You’re so dramatic” she giggles.
She hands him a brush too and he thanks her with a mischievous grin, “if I end up dying from exhaustion it’s on you!”
“Shhh, ‘s startin’” she gestures to the tv and they both turn their head to it.
YN grabs a tube of red paint and opens it, squirting a small pump on the plate Harry had gotten her.
“What are ya making?” He asks her after a while.
“I don’t know” she shrugs, “I was thinking something simple like… red hearts”
“Tha’s cute” he agrees, “should I make it How to get away with murder themed?”
YN starts giggling, pushing his shoulder with hers, “that would be cute I guess”
“I’m just kidding. Although I think I could totally rock that”
“Yeah, you would” she agrees.
Harry ends up making it Mickey Mouse themed, drawing two big red ears a pair of big black eyes. He even helps YN with hers (she settled on something more minimalistic) which is ironic because even though she’s the one that loves art, she’s not really good at it.
Harry even snapped a few pictures to send to his mum, one with YN too, “wait, stay right there. Show the pumpkins!!”
“Harry the paint is still fresh I can’t — ugh fine!” She says lifting her pumpkin by the stem.
He leans in next to her, their temples almost touching, and Harry snaps the picture, a warm smile on his face, dimples showing and all. “Mum’s gonna love this.”
They watch a couple more episodes of this tv show Harry has gotten obsessed with, and once the clock strikes midnight YN is so exhausted Harry has to finish her pumpkin for her.
Her eyes are aching and she brings her fingers to press on them, hoping to relieve some of the burning.
“Everything all right?” He asks turning his head to look at her.
“Yes” she nods, “just forgot my glasses and the tv is hurting my eyes”
“Wait” he tells her, standing up on his feet quickly. He heads over to his bedside table and opens the drawer, rummaging through all the stuff he keeps inside it.
He sits back down after a minute, closer than he was before, and he shows her a pair of glasses, “here”.
She looks at him surprised, and “thank you” she says, grabbing them from his hand and sliding them on.
The glasses are comfortable, with a kind of thick frame, and she understands immediately they are a much better quality than hers.
She’s surprised she can see clearly with them, and she enjoys the much needed rest the glasses provide. She leans her head on the back of the bed behind her and sighs contentedly.
“Better?” He asks.
“Much better.”
“I didn’t know you wore glasses” he says after a while, his gaze still on the tv, “never seen you wear ‘em”
“Yeah” she agrees, embarrassed, “‘s just… don’t really like the way I look in them. Plus it’s not like I’m completely blind!” She hurries to add “they just get really tired and… yeah”
He turns his head to look at her, his brows furrowed on his forehead and his eyes scrutinizing her face.
She feels embarrassed under his gaze and she squirms imperceptibly in her spot.
“You look proper cute, actually” he says with a swift nod as to reinforce his words.
She blushes and prays that he doesn’t notice, mumbling a ‘thank you’ and quickly averting her gaze back to the tv.
She feels once again that warm feeling inside her, but this time it’s all over her body and it’s kind of overwhelming.
She debates whether she should leave or stay, but Harry’s presence is so comforting beside her, and it’s not like his comment has to mean anything.
It’s just a compliment.
Like a friend would to another. Right?
…
It’s not easy to avoid your boss.
Harry is everywhere, and it’s not like YN wants to avoid him, it’s just inevitable since she realized she actually has a crush on him.
On the span of these three days YN tried to tell herself it wasn’t that big of a deal; Harry is handsome, he almost resembles an angel, and he’s funny, and since he’s warmed up to her she realized he’s also nice, and caring, and soft. His smile is bright as the sun. His eyes are a peculiar shade of green she has never seen before and she noticed some nights they turn almost blue and she really would like to ask him why but she figures that’s way overstepping her boundary so she just keeps quiet every time she notices it.
And he’s many things all together.
And maybe if she avoids him this feeling will go away and everything will go back to normal sooner than later.
On the fourth day, he catches her on her way back to his dressing room and she almost has an heart attack. She had been so careful up to that point!!!
She was sure he was still in the shower, and she needed to grab her sweatshirt from the dressing room since it was starting to get chilly, but once she opened the door, there he was, sitting on the couch in only a towel and a sweatshirt. Her sweatshirt. She feels like she could combust any second.
“YN! Hey!” He cheerfully greets her once he notices her, locking his phone and leaving it next to him on the couch.
“Hi, H” she replies “just needed to grab my… sweatshirt” she clears her throat embarrassed, pointing towards his torso.
He looks down to himself and then his eyes widen in surprise, “this one’s yours? I’m so sorry pet, thought ‘t was mine!”
“Tha’s fine” she shrugs, trying not to dwell too much on the fact that he called her a pet name.
“You wan’ it back?” He asks, grinning.
“No, no that’s fine, I’ll find something else” but before she can even answer he’s already getting up, slipping out of the sweatshirt. He walks towards her and hands it to her, “hav’to get ready soon anyway”.
She nods and as he walks to his clothing rack where his outfit is already displayed, and YN lets her eyes linger for a brief moment on his back, his skin is already moisturized and YN wonders if it feels as soft as it looks, his little moles and freckles look like little constellations on the skin of his back, like the Gods blew stars onto it when they created him, and the color of his skin is almost lunar-like, despite how much sun he gets.
“Feel like I haven’t seen ya in ages” he interrupts the silence after a while, and YN watches as he picks up his tank top from one of the hangers and slips it onto his head.
She nods when he turns to her, the tank top is white and she can see the faint ink of his tattoos, “had so much work to do” she sighs.
“Are you sayin’ I’m overworking you?” He chuckles, and she’s quick to say: “no! No! Just… you know with Harryween coming up there’s so much stuff to do”
“Yeah” he agrees, “maybe tonight we can watch a couple of episodes…?” He questions tentatively.
YN would really like to say yes. She really would.
“I’m really tired, Harry…” she trails off, “maybe another night?”
“Yeah of course” he shrugs.
He leans down to slip on his leather trousers, tossing the towel on the couch next to him.
“But you can obviously go on though!! I already know what happened and…”
“What? No! I don’t want to watch it without you, that’s our thing.” He says, shaking his head and furrowing his brows, “‘s okay, I can wait a couple days. Even though I hav’to tell ya… i think I may be in withdrawal… i have been tempted to look up spoilers online”
She giggles at his playfulness, “Harry! I told you not to do that!”
“That’s why I didn’t! But eventually I have to know, I have a couple of ideas on who did it though”
“I’m not saying anything”
“Fine” he groans jokingly, “but you have to admit I deserve an award for putting up with all your torture”
“You’re so dramatic!” She laughs through her teeth.
“Yeah, yeah. Actually!” He starts, and he smiles a malicious smile YN is afraid to know what it means, “everything would be forgiven if you came shopping with me tomorrow”
“Harry! I have so much stuff to do! I can’t just ditch everything to go shopping with you”
“Please!!” He pleas almost like a petulant child, “I don’t want to go alone! ’s boring!”
“Jeff gave me so much stuff… you know how he gets when I don’t get things done” she sighs. She’s still holding the sweatshirt he gave (back) to her, and she squeezes it against her chest.
“Screw Jeff” Harry shrugs, passing a hand through his hair to comb it.
“He’s literally my boss”
“No” he’s quick to say, walking towards her and stopping when he’s in front of her, crossing his arms on his chest “Jeff is your employer. I’m your boss” he chuckles darkly, poking her in the stomach playfully.
“Uggh fine! I’ll come” she sighs, finally giving in to his demand. “But you’re buyin’ me coffee tomorrow”
“Deal” he nods his head swiftly.
She rolls her eyes and gives him a little shove on the shoulder, “see ya after the show! Good luck”
“Thank you pet” he says smiling at her softly.
She gives a small smile back and turns to walk out the door.
Once she’s out, the cold air of the AC hits her, and she’s quick to slip over her head the sweatshirt she actually came to get in the first place.
It’s still warm and his sweet musky scent lingers on it. She buries her nose into it and walks to find Jeff, telling him the new plans for the next day.
…
“I need you to do my makeup”
It’s the 31st of October, just a couple of hours before Harryween, and Harry still isn’t dressed in his Dorothy costume.
His makeup artist had texted him that she wouldn’t be available to work on Halloween (she has young children and couldn’t miss a chance to spend the holiday with them!), but Harry was so busy he hadn’t paid too much mind to it. He knew if it got to the point where no one else was available, he could do it himself. It’s just makeup, it’s not supposed to be hard.
Well, turns out, it is hard.
So, YN was really his last hope.
That’s why he knocked loudly on her hotel door, impatiently waiting for her to open it.
He heard her groan and then the sound of feet walking quickly towards him.
“What!” She says before even checking who it was.
“I need you to do my makeup”.
That’s how they ended up in her room, both sitting cross legged on her floor with a bunch of makeup bags opened next to them.
She would really like to be fussy and pouty about it, because not only he has her working on Halloween (she didn’t specifically ask for the day off, but she figured it wasn’t necessary for her to be at the entire show and he could’ve maybe let her off a little earlier, but, no — he had demanded she stayed through the entirety of the show) plus now she’s going to be late and she probably won’t have time to do her own makeup like she wanted specially for her costume!!
but… how can she possibly complain when he’s sitting in front of her like an obedient puppy, looking at her with curious green eyes every time she takes a product out of her bag?
This little crush she has on him is starting to get out of control! Instead of being annoyed at him she’s referring to him as a cute puppy! what is wrong with her!
“Wha’s that for?” He asks, pointing to the little tube of moisturizer she takes out.
“Moisturizer. This one’s lighter than the one you use because I have oily skin, but I reckon it could work as well” she pops the cap open and squirts a small amount on the tip of her fingers.
She warms it between her hands before looking at him questioning, silently asking for his permission to touch his face.
He nods immediately once he understands, his eyes fluttering shut.
“Hold your hair for me please”
He brings a hand to his forehead and tucks away the curls that fell onto it.
YN feels her heart beat hard against her chest as she gets closer to smear the cream onto his face, massaging his cheekbones and his sinuses to ease the product into his skin.
Harry sighs once she starts massaging his temples, and he makes sure to thank God in his head for his makeup artist and her children, because YN is really gentle.
She has really soft fingers and her touch is delicate, and he thinks she touches him like something fragile that is worth preserving. And he likes the feeling a little too much.
“All done!” She beams, removing her hands from his face (she even dragged the cream onto his neck!).
“Now I think we should do eyebrows” she takes out a small black spoolie and she starts brushing through his brows, “I don’t think yours need much filling.” She ponders, “maybe just in a couple spots we can make ‘em more thick if you’d like”.
He nods, “I’d like that”.
“Okay!” She grabs her pencil and draws a couple of stray hair.
“Now… I think mascara. And then we’ll do the blush. Close your eyes” she instructs, unscrewing the tube of mascara and removing the excess on the tip. She brings a hand to his eye and presses her thumb to his eyelid, that way she can see his eyelashes better.
She starts coating them with the mascara, first one eye and then the other repeating the same process as well, “your lashes are so long” she whispers, almost to herself, but she hears him chuckle through his nose nonetheless.
“All done!”
He opens his eyes and they flutter a couple of times, the new added weight of the mascara kind of uncomfortable at first.
Once he gets accustomed to it, he looks at her with his piercing bright green eyes.
YN looks between them as she closes the tube mascara; they’re the deepest shade of green today, and the black coating his lashes is only making them stand out more.
“Now?” He asks, and she tries to hide her blush as she tilts her head down to rummage through her bag.
“Blush! I’m thinking lots of blush!”
She takes out a bright cherry blush and “that’s way too red” he protests, furrowing his brows.
She shushes him immediately, “just trust me on this ‘s gonna look so cute!!!”
This time he doesn’t close his eyes, but he chooses to look at her.
The concentrated expression on her face is really cute, her brows are furrowed as she applies the blush with her fingers (she explained she prefers fingers because brushes can irritate the skin and cause break outs and she doesn’t want that).
He feels her apply some on his nose too, and he involuntarily scrunches it. She giggles at it and then keeps blending the blush on his skin.
From this angles YN can see he has freckles on his nose, and she doesn’t know why but it makes her feel warm. He seems more real like this, his nose sensitive and with a constellation of freckles on it. She wonders if they get darker in the sun, and she figures she’ll probably know once the summer arrives.
“Looks proper cute!!!” She sighs dreamily, looking at his face to admire the finished look. “I just know your fans will go crazy” she smiles softly.
He grins at her and gets up on his feet, heading for the bathroom to look at himself.
“Fuck I look good!” She hears him say from the bathroom, “the blush is my favorite part”.
She smiles to herself as she starts tidying her makeup back into the bags, even if it’s pointless really because she has to do her own now.
She gets up from the floor and checks for the time on her phone that’s charging on the bedside table, just as Harry gets out of the bathroom. She still has a hour and a half to get ready, and she thinks she could make it work.
“Thank you again, pet” he smiles down at her and she suddenly feels too hot and breathless.
“It’s okay, no problem at all!”
…
It’s past midnight once YN finally returns to the hotel.
A guy from the crew named Peter (he’s a light technician) invited YN to go out with him and his friends, but she’s so tired she declined politely, promising to make up for it another time.
She doesn’t really know what Harry is doing, and she wonders if Peter invited him as well and if perhaps he declined, but she doesn’t have to wonder much because not even half an hour later she hears a knock on her door.
She’s already wearing her Halloween themed Snoopy pajamas, and if it was any other situation she’d probably feel embarrassed, but she’s so tired she just can’t wait to get to bed.
When she opens the door she sees it’s Harry, and she notices — happily — that he’s wearing his pajamas as well (His consist of a pair of plaid pants and a grey hoodie, but still a pajamas nonetheless), and his face is free of the makeup she’d put on him that same afternoon.
He holds in his hands two full grocery bags, and she looks pointedly at him.
“Can I come in? My arms are starting to get sore”
She nods and moves to the side to let him in, closing the door behind them after.
“So.” He starts, placing the bags on her bed, “I was about to go to bed when I realized it’s still Halloween”
She furrows her brows at him, “I thought that was like the whole point of Harryween?”
He chuckles at her, “of course, I know. That’s what I’m saying exactly.”
“I don’t follow?”
“I had you work on Halloween! You told me before how much you love Halloween and I didn’t think to give you the day off”
“Oh, Harry. It’s okay, really! Don’t worry about that, it’s stupid!” She says, but not without blushing a little.
She knows it’s just decent courtesy to remember conversations one shared with another, but she says a lot of stuff and she didn’t really think he would remember! Plus, he doesn’t really like Halloween, so she thought he’d actually regard her interest in celebrating it as annoying.
“It’s not stupid” he shakes his head, “I thought to remedy as best I could. But I have to confess, Jeff did the grocery shopping so I can’t take credit for it.”
She giggles and walks closer to the bed, peeking her head to look inside the bags, “it’s okay. You were busy”.
He laughs and nods, spilling the bags onto the bed. An undefined amount of sweets fall on the bed, and YN gasps at how many choices of candies and chocolates Jeff picked out.
“Fuck! i think he got every possible candy available” he snorts.
She agrees with a laugh, “what are we supposed to do with all this food?”
“I know it’s not the best but I thought we could watch a movie and eat it? But if you want to go to sleep that’s fine I mean I-“
He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels embarrassed.
What was he thinking? Walking into her room like a maniac with two bags full of candy and expecting her to be down to watch a movie with him. She works for him. This is entirely not appropriate and he’s aware of that, but… when he saw her on the side of the stage, singing mindlessly along to Golden, dressed as Princess Belle he realized how cruel he had been to take Halloween away from her.
Not only had he deemed it as “not fun” right in front of her enthusiasm, he also specifically requested for her to work, and even if she had not expressed formal complaints, she probably should have.
Because he had been a dick.
So, in his quick pee break, instead of freeing his bladder, he texted Jeff if he could do him a big favor and grab every single candy he could get his hands of, recommending specifically to get as many choices to pick from as he could (he didn’t know what YN liked and he couldn’t risk it).
YN quickly interrupts his train of thoughts, “okay!!! But I get to choose the movie though”
“Okay, -- he nods amused -- Deal. But — he says, picking up the remote from the coffee table to hand it to her — Nothing too spooky”
YN gets comfortable on the bed next to Harry, the candies resting at their feet. He has a package of Sour Patch Kids resting on his tummy, and every time YN wants one she has to move her arm, and it brushes against his chest.
She feels… weird. It’s weird to her that he would do something like that, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. If it was any other case, if a guy did something like this for her, she’d immediately thought of it as a date, or a way to show interest in her but with Harry… it’s different.
She doesn’t think he likes her like that.
Maybe he sees her as a friend? She doesn’t think she’s particularly fun, but he always chooses to hang out with her, even after a tiring day…
She gets shaken out of her thoughts once she hears him gasp from next to her.
“Oh God, what happened?” She looks at him pointedly.
“I told you no scary movies!” He whines childishly, closing his lips in a pout.
“Harry! ‘S Caroline! It’s not scary!” She can’t help but giggle at him.
“It’s scary to me” he huffs, taking a candy from the package and popping it into his mouth. He takes another one and shows it to her, which she gladly takes from his fingers.
“I promise if you get past the scary part it’s really good”
“Fine” he nods, “I’ll watch it. But please tell me once it gets scary again”
She smiles fondly at him and nods back, “yes, don’t worry about it.”
...
“You know, you were right… once you see past the scary scenes it’s actually a pretty good-“
It’s after the movie has finished that Harry realizes YN has fallen asleep next to him.
He rolls his lips into his mouth to bite back a smile, grabbing the remote to shut off the tv.
She must be so tired.
He has her working non stop while she should be out and having fun at her age. She isn’t that much younger than him, but he knows how much can change from your early to your late twenties.
He also knows he should get up from the bed and go sleep in his own one, but… he’s really comfortable right now and she’s really warm next to him, and she smells like candies and vanilla, the perfect scent to lull him to sleep.
He’s also very tired, and before he knows it, his eyes are closing shut and his mind is already wondering to faraway countries, with cotton candy skies and chocolatey grass.
The air smells like vanilla, and he doesn’t know if he’s dreaming or if it’s her next to him, he just knows he was definitely wrong; Halloween isn’t as bad as he thought.
it's hereeee and it's halloween themed ;))) (!!!!!) let me know what you think and if you want part 2!!!!
taglist: @gem1712 @jerseygirlinca @lexiecamposv @ameerakane20 @lovrave @mema10 @sunshinemoonsposts
#assistant!yn#harry styles blurb#harry styles fluff#harry styles one shot#harry styles#harry styles angst#harry styles x reader#harrystyles#harry styles imagine#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#one direction#harry styles one direction#harry styles x you#harry styles x oc#harry styles love on tour#love on tour#harry styles tour#assistant!reader
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pairings: boyfriend!harry x fem!reader [1.8k]
content warnings: cockwarming, small bit of fluff
“Don’t. Move.”
Harry’s voice is low enough to not be picked up by his computer microphone but loud enough for the girl before him to hear. She looks up at him from her spot on the floor, her knees aching from sitting in the same place for long periods of time. She’s unsure of just how long she’s been sitting on her knees, eyes watery and mouth full of his cock, but she thinks a good chunk of his meeting has gone by she’s been sitting down. He had told her before the meeting started that it was an important one and that she should be good and keep herself busy until he’s through. That was his only request, she needed to leave him alone.
She nodded then, sure of herself and her ability to stay away from him. She was wrong. It only took twenty minutes into the meeting that the heat started to bloom within her. It started off as a small little feeling in her chest and she frowned. She started to read to try to distract herself from it but then the book started to get a little steamy which only made the heat worse. The longer Harry stayed in that room on his call, the more antsy she became, the more the heat grew.
He’s been in there for at least an hour by now, talking and laughing on the other side of the door and Y/N can’t wait any longer. She walks quietly into his office and he shoots her a warning look, reminding her of what he said earlier. Be good. She shakes her head and sits on an empty chair near him. She’s hoping that the close proximity will calm the heat licking at the inside of the girl’s body. She just watches him, her eyes roaming over every part of him, his slender fingers free from his rings minus one. It’s a simple little ring that Y/N had bought for him when they were just friends, a plain gold ring with a couple of small gems in a circle that just somehow reminded her of him.
Time passed and the girl was bored and horny and just itching to tease him just a little. She scooted herself closer to Harry, just out of sight of his camera. If Harry saw, then he acted as if he didnt, completely ignoring her, nodding along to whatever the man on camera was saying. She lays one hand on his knee, a touch so innocent seeming and just lets it rest. She watches him out of the corner of her eye, her main gaze focused on the screen, watches as he flares his nostrils and exhales deeply. He cuts her a brief glance with a hard look, another warning. He’s normally a very patient man, hard to visibly upset. She knows that he enjoys her being the slightest disobedient on a regular day, but he doesn’t tolerate it as much when he’s in business mode. He doesn’t like being distracted and she’s his biggest and main one.
Slowly she begins to start trailing her hand upwards on his lap, the feel of the rough cotton against her palm rewarding her but doing very little to calm the fire burning inside her. One hand swats at hers, a lingering tingle on the back of her hand remains. She can hear his mouse click a couple times before he turns his head to look at her.
“What did I say, hm?” He asks and she just shrugs.
“You’ve been on this call forever. I miss you.” She says and he just chuckles, a dry sounding laugh that just says he doesn’t buy it.
“So you think you can just ignore what I told you? You can do whatever you want, hm?” He says and she watches a glint pass through his eyes, one that only happens whenever she’s being a brat and she clenches her legs as the fire burns stronger inside of her. She’s warm, a little warmer than she’d like to be in all honesty. She shrugs, all faux confidence and brattiness. She’s trying not to seem eager at all this attention she’s getting from him and trying to ignore the wetness pooling in her underwear.
It’s no use though and she knows this, he’s able to read her like the back of his hand. He knows she’s turned on and trying to seem big and confident, knows that she’s squeezing her legs as tight as she can. He simply smiles, a genuine one as he turns back to his computer. He’s able to pick right back where he left off, adding onto the conversation as if he wasn’t talking to her just a second ago. She watches in disbelief as he goes back to ignoring her, acting as if she was outside of the door instead of right next to him. She huffs in annoyance before her hand is resting back on his leg, sliding upwards faster before she reaches his covered dick that’s beginning to harden underneath her touch. He breathes through his nose as she smiles and starts rubbing him over his clothes. He clicks his mouse and turns to look at her, the look in his eyes is one that she loves to see.
“On your knees, in front of me. Hurry up.” He says and she just tilts her head at him, feigning innocence.
“Why? Aren’t you supposed to be focusing on your meeting? I’d hate to distract you.” She says and squeezes his dick once over his jeans. He closes his eyes and sighs, she’s really pushing his patience and the both of them know it.
“On. Your. Knees. Now. Don’t make me tell you again, pet.” He says as he turns back to his computer and unmutes himself, she stares at him a little longer and then decides to listen to him. She stands up and sinks to her knees, crawling so she’s in between his legs, looking up at him with a smirk. She thinks she’s in control, she’s gotten what she wants so there’s no way she’s losing anything right now.
She has him wrapped around her finger normally as does he, they’re both equally whipped for each other and there’s no denying it. She thinks she has him in the palm of her hand, has him right where she wants him, but it’s quite the opposite actually. Harry knew she could only stay away from him for so long. Knew that she could only take so much before she gets all antsy and needy for him, just like she is now. He offers a soft smile, full of love and warm, opposite of the fire burning in his emerald eyes. He’s full of lust and the thought of punishing her while he’s actively on a call makes the fire burn brighter, hotter.
She stares at him, one hand tracing random shapes into his pants as she waits for instruction. He hums, an agreeing noise.
“Go ahead and take me out then, baby.” He says after muting himself, not wanting to alert his other coworkers, it’s none of their business and he does have a professionalism to maintain after all. She smiles up at him with excitement in her eyes as she begins to trail her hands up his legs, over his knees and begins to pull his pants down slowly. He lifts himself off of his chair as subtly as he can, disguising it as getting himself more comfortable. After all, he has been sitting in that chair without a break for over an hour. She stares at his hard cock, standing straight up and a small bead of pre cum begins to dribble out. Her mouth waters instantly at the thought of sucking him off, it’s one of her favorite things. He smiles at her again, this time it’s more of a smirk if anything. He knows she’s eager for it, she always will be. He coos at her gently before nodding once, letting her know it’s okay to go ahead. She wastes no time, eagerly leaning forward and taking him into her mouth. He closes his eyes briefly before he opens them again and tries to pay attention to whatever’s being said from the other side of the screen. He does his best to ignore the feeling of her mouth on him as she bobs her head and sucks on him greedily, her tongue gently circling around him whenever she reaches closer to the tip. Before she’s able to get too into it, Harry has to remember that this is supposed to be a punishment. She’s not supposed to be enjoying herself so he calmly takes one of his hands and tangles his fingers into the back of her head gently tugging on her roots.
“Don’t move now, just keep me warm.” He says softly, doesn’t want to keep having to mute himself in order to protect their ears and just chooses to talk quietly in hopes that his mic won’t pick up his words. She whines and shakes her head slightly, showing her displeasure but he doesn’t care. She brought this on herself. He sits hot and heavy on her tongue, the taste of his pre-comeum is salty and intoxicating. She’s always loved the way he tastes, and can never get enough of it.
She hates when he has her do this, hates just being still even though her mouth waters heavily, desire swirls in her stomach and courses through her body. She huffs at him to show her annoyance, trying to show her attitude even with her mouth closed. He simply chuckles at the girl and her efforts, amused at her antics. He pays attention to the screen, his boss droning on about numbers and marketing techniques that could help business. He finds that she listens to him, aside from a couple of tongue swirls around his sensitive tip and a few swallows whenever too much spit pools in her mouth. He smiles to himself as the meeting continues.
He’s not sure how much time passes, these meetings always end up being several hours long simply because no one can agree on one thing. He checks the time on his computer to see that thirty minutes passed, and he feels content. She’s been good, being as still as she can with just a few teasing licks and sucks. He smiles as he mentally decides to reward her, ettling deeper into his chair and subtly thrusting himself into her mouth and she immediately moans, her eyes fluttering close and the vibrations flow through him and makes him curl his toes. He clears his throat in an attempt to hold back the throat making his way up his throat.
He’s being mean, he knows he is. He can’t help it though, as he thrusts softly into her mouth again and she eagerly hollows her cheeks as she sucks him in deeper. He quickly mutters something to his team, some pathetic excuse of needing to get something as he mutes himself and turns off the camera. He begins thrusting slowly into her mouth and a rumble comes from deep in his chest as he watches her.
“There you go, baby. You did so good, I think you deserve a reward.”
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry edward styles#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fan fic#harry styles one direction#harrystyles#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shots#harry smut#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles smut#my writing
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idk if you write smut so if you’re uncomfortable totally ignore this!!! but!!! imagine y/n and recently fiance!harry and him fingering you with his ring finger talking abt marriage and shit 🫣🫣
future husband
Harry styles x reader (masterlist)
summary: Harry proposes and it leads to sex
warnings: smut
a/n: IM SORRY THIS TOOK TOO LONG I JUST NEEDED TO BE IN THE RIGHT MOOD TO WRITE SMUT AND THEN TUMBLR DIDNT PUT IT IN THE TAGS AHHH
Harry's ring obsession started when he was in his early twenties.
He rarely wore any type of a jewelry or anything flamboyant when he was younger. He painted his nails on occasion, something to relax himself with or whenever Y/n was doing hers, but nothing too grand.
But a simple silver chain given by his one and only changed that.
He started getting a little more into jewelry, necklaces, earrings, and his favorite, rings. He liked the intricate designs that rings ment; they could be loud and a stable piece, or they could be a subtle addition to the outfit.
They could also symbolize love.
After dating Y/n for three months, he knew he was certain that he wanted to stay forever with her, he just didn't allow himself to think of marriage this early into a relationship--at least not until his mother asked when he was going to propose after meeting her around their six-moth anniversary.
Finally though, after just under two years, he popped the question. He got a beautiful engagement ring, a band with beautiful engravings throughout, and of course, a huge fucking rock.
"Harry." Y/n sniffled, seeing Harry on his knee, ring in hand. "Of course, yes!"
A lovely proposal in a quiet and quant cottage away from civilization was perfect and exactly what they needed, not only for their privacy but for the ability to have sex in the middle of the woods. Harry bought this property not too long ago and waited for the right moment to take Y/n there, a proposal seemed like the best time.
The kissing of course led to more, how could it not? Harry was always a passionate lover, always eager to please, so it was honestly no surprise when the soft kiss turned more sensual.
"Fuck, I'm so glad you finally asked." Y/n mumbled softly as their lips kept touching, coming back for more. "Can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you as my husband."
Harry moved onto her neck, biting softly as he went down. "It's all I've ever wanted." He groaned as Y/n's hand trailed down to his pants, she teased him slightly, earning a moan from him. "And to please you again. Lay down."
Y/n made herself comfortable on the blue and white picnic blanket. Harry moved the basket and wine bottles out of the way. He pulled flipped her dress up, revealing her lacy set on panties.
"Planning to seduce me today?" He asked with a raised brow.
"I had a hunch you might be asking me to marry you." She shrugged her shoulders, biting her lip to hide, poorly, a cheeky smile.
"How?" Harry gasped, his fingers tracing the band of her underwear. "It was top secret!"
"Oh come on, H." She giggled, her hand coming up to stroke his cheek. "You take me on a surprise getaway, no one around, to a cottage that is darling... It's the most romantic thing you have ever done."
Harry blushed. The midday sun gleaming perfectly on his skin, twinkling his green eyes and highlighting the freckles that scattered his slightly tanned skin. Y/n couldn't help but feel so lucky. This beautiful man, inside and out, is now her fiancé; she started to tear up, which, of course, caused Harry to tear up as well.
"No don't start baby." She told him. "We need to focus so we can have sex. No tears now."
She wiped her tears then Harry's. "You started it." He mumbled, smiling as he finally pulled her panties down. "We just love each other too much."
"I guess so-" Y/n gasped as Harry entered a figure into her. The familiar feeling was welcomed as the subtle feeling of pleasure began to buble up inside of her. "Fuck that feels so good."
Harry was leaning half on and half off of her, his right hand fingering. her while his other held him up so he could kiss by her ear.
"Don't get one of your rings stuck in me." She warned, looking sternly at her love. Harry shook his head and kissed her softly.
"I would never."
Harry had on a simple band, one similar to the new one adorned on Y/n's finger. He figured while he was buying the engagement ring he could buy a matching one for himself.
"I can't wait to marry you." He spoke softly, creating a new hickey just under her ear lobe. "Gonna wanna fuck you again when I see you in that dress, don't know if I could wait till the honeymoon."
He added a finger, adding to the pleasure.
"And seeing you with that ring...It's going to be as sexy as your lingerie. Just knowing you're mine and I'm the only one that can ever see you like this."
"Fuck, H. Gonna come."
"I'm the only one who will get to see my wife like this. And everyone will know I can only to this do you...I'm the only one capable." Harry's words were possessive yet reassuring, the constant validation that he was the only one for her pushed her over the edge, leaving a gasp from her mouth.
"Har I need you inside." She yanked him fully on-top of her, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down after Harry quickly pulled his fingers out of her, but not before a little taste.
He helped her strip himself, knowing she is just as possessive as him but just doesn't always vocalize it, but her actions speak louder than her lack of words.
Harry entered Y/n, the euphoric feeling washing over him as he let out a loud moan, mentally thanking himself for buying the isolated land. "Feel so good."
"You stretch me out so much." She gasped. "My future husband."
Harry thrusted, a reflex from her words in her sexy, faint, voice. "Don't say that or else I'm going to come in less then a minute." He paused, staring into his loves eyes. "Want to impress my future wife."
"You impress me every day. Every time I see you I have something new I love about you." Y/n leaned in a kissed him, it was mainly teeth, but still perfect nonetheless. "Today it's your cock."
Harry stopped thrusting briefly. "You mean it hasn't impressed your before today?"
"It's the first time I've been impress by my fiancé's cock, I was already impressed when he was my boyfriend." She assured. Harry rolled his eyes and got back to thrusting, moving his ring finger down to her core and rubbing soft circles on her clit, making her jolt slightly.
"I'm gonna cum again, H."
"Me too."
They both moaned as they climaxed at the same time. Harry collapsed onto Y/n's chest, arms exhausted from keeping himself up. They stayed like that for no more then five minutes, Harry's cock softening inside of her as they relaxed.
"I can't believe you're going to be my wife." Harry thought out loud. "Never thought I'd work up the courage."
"Why? You knew I'd say yes."
"I dunno, just all the what-if's got inside my head. You know how that is." Harry mumbled, nuzzling his face into the side of her neck. He kissed over her blooming hickeys too, soft contrast between his sexual and romantic desire for her.
"Well your next biggest concern is finding were to go for our honeymoon." Y/n said. "Might have to go all over."
"I'll pay for every penny of it."
"Most defiantly. You know I have expensive taste." Y/n joked. "The wedding is going to cost half a fortune on its own."
Harry smiled, kissing her cheek then her lips. "I'd spend all the money in the world to make you happy. I'd go broke to see you smile."
"Stop, you're going to make me cry again." She whispered, tears starting to form.
"I'll just kiss them away, my love." He sighed. "It's my job as your future husband."
#harry styles x reader#harry styles#harry styles fluff#harry styles x y/n#harry styles smut#harry styles x you#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfic#harry styles one direction#bf!harry styles#husband!harry#husband!harry styles#harry styles fic#fiance!harry#fiance!harry styles#harry edward styles#harry styles x fem!reader
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Familiarity
in which you and Harry have a strange relationship...
Sugar Daddy!Harry Styles × Sugar Baby!Reader
[Warning- Angst, Little fluff, children, sadness, Harry being filthy rich]
Masterlist
*****
You were painting your nails when you heard the knock on the door. You got up from the floor fanning your hands in the air to dry down the nails.
You opened the door and there he was the same old man who visits you every weekend. Alberto, his name, you got to know after a few weeks in.
He hands you a new bag full of brand new clothes like every weekend, you take them with a smile and close the door as he starts ascending down the stairs.
You set the bag down on the floor where you were sitting previously when your phone buzzed. You picked it up from the floor and looked at the text sent by him.
Be ready at 5.
That was all it was, always. He was never the man of many words you got to know. You sighed as you took out the outfit he sent you this time.
It was an oversized sweater and a plaid skirt. This weirded you out at first. You expected a sexy lingerie or dress at first, but he never sent you anything like that. It was always casual outfits like this.
The clock stared back at you. It was 3 already, and if you didn't want to be late, you had to get up and get ready.
You had whole weeks to yourself but weekends you had to day how he wanted you to, every single step. He gave you shampoo, to body wash, skincare everything and that only reserved for weekends. Yes, if you liked something you could use it everyday and he paid for everything and even more.
He was sort of like your sugar daddy, well who were you kidding you did found him on sugar daddy website. Well not you technically, it was your best friend, Taylor. She was the one who suggested you go on the website when you were struggling to pay for your college, she was also the one who found him.
You couldn't even say no when you saw him. Those beautiful eyes held so much familiarity that you just couldn't.
He pays for you everything, from college to your groceries, everything anything. In return, you just had to play dress up and go on a date with him, not even sex which you were mentally prepared for, well sort of.
You got on with your usual routine of showering, washing your hair, putting on moisturizer, sunscreen, and then getting started with the same makeup you always did on weekends for him. Simple makeup, no foundation, and a bold red lip.
Soon enough, it was 5, and Alberto was on your doorstep, ready to take you with him. You got in the car. Very luxury car, something you only saw in your dreams.
Your heart was racing, even though it was a deal which you have been doing for the past 7 months you didn't know when it became more than that.
I mean, can you blame the girl for falling for a tall, hot, rich, generous man? with eyes like his? you were bound to.
Car stopped, and so did you thoughts. Alberto stood with open door, you got out and saw what was a small restaurant nothing fancy but not bad, it looked cozy.
You walked inside and saw it was empty, all the chairs were made but not a single person was there not even staff, from what you could see and guess with your intuition of knowing him for past 7 months, there was not more than 3 to 4 staff inside.
There, he was sitting on the bar stool, the lights from the small bar illuminating his side profile. His messy hair fell on his face just right, his ring cladded fingers holding the whiskey glass. He was dressed in nothing fancy himself, a simple orange sweater, and blue jeans.
You slid in beside him, catching his attention. His face lit up in a smile, and you just melted.
"You're here" He said, breathing out looking at you up and down. Your cheeks turned flaming red under gaze, "You look beautiful" He said, looking up into your eyes.
"Thank you" You mumble out. You didn't know why you felt this shy. You should be used to it by now, but his charm, his face, his hair, everything just made you fall and fall deeper.
You guys talked like you do, him telling you all about his week from his hectic work, the meetings, the annoying investors, to his daughter going through her runner phase.
Oh yes, he has a daughter, Aira who is 7 and going through her runner phase. She runs anywhere and everywhere whenever she gets a chance.
He shows you the pic of her showing off the teeth she lost yesterday, and you smiled. She had his eyes and curls and was an adorable child. He always kept you updated on her every single detail about her, and it never felt odd. Which you should have cause she was a stranger's child, to be honest, but she felt like your own.
It was late when you stumbled out of the bar with him. His arms around your torso holding you so you wouldn't fall down on your face.
You squealed when he picked you up in a swing, followed by a hearty laugh, which made him laugh also.
It felt like this had been happening for so long, not just 7 months or so but forever. It was as if he had been picking you up like this for years, but it wasn't. Was it?
It further got proven when he called you the name he always does, "Cherry". It would've been cute if you would've fed into your delusions and thought it was a nickname he gave you, but no.
The contract, the talk, you weren't here on a real date with him no, you were playing a part. You were not you but Cherry, his first love the one he couldn't have.
He slid in beside you, his arms around your shoulders. You put your head on his and closed your eyes. You wanted to sleep, fall into a deep slumber with his smell all around you forgetting who and what you were here for just him and him only.
So, you did. You fell asleep.
Harry smiled when he saw you fell asleep on his shoulder. It was your usual habit, every car ride no matter how long or short you fall asleep.
He sighed as he pushed some hair away from your face, your cheeks still red from all the booze, you were never one to hold liquor.
It was a sweet torture for him, this whole thing, this whole persona, yours and his both.
Alberto stopped the car in front of your apartment complex that was also chosen by him. He got out first carefully not to wake you up and rounded around to your side and picked you up to start to walk towards your apartment.
The familiarity of those steps always made him tear up, can't blame a guy for being emotional, right?
The routine had become so usual for him that he could do it with his eyes closed.
So, he opened the door, walked towards your room, and set you down on the bed. He took off your shoes and jewelries he knew you don't wear every day and set them on your nightstand.
Taking off his sweater, he walked out of the room to get some water when he heard the sound. He looked down and saw the cat circling around his legs purring.
"Yes Evie, still doing your witchcraft, huh?" He said, chuckling. He sat down and gave her all the belly rubs and scratches, "You being a good girl for Mama? I know you are" He said, kissing her forehead and getting up.
He took out the cold water bottle from the fridge, knowing you would have a headache in the morning.
He set everything on the nightstand and then slid in beside you. You smell engulfed him, and he melted into the bed.
For the first hour, he just watched you sleep. Was it creepy? totally, but he couldn't help it. He never could.
His phone buzzed, taking him out of the trance. He smiled when he saw the selfie Aira had sent him with her gummy smile.
Grandma made me pancakes for dinner.
How much did you bribe her darling?
I didn't! She loves me
That is true. Still
When you will be back Dada?
On Monday morning love
Okay
He heard the voice note say. She still couldn't type properly, but god did she sent him voicenotes.
Are you with Mama?
His heart stopped for a second as he looked over at you sleeping beside him. It was a difficult situation. It was difficult for an adult while she was just a kid. He couldn't even think how she was coping.
Yes my love.
Tell her I love her and miss her.
I will. Now go to sleep or I will sell all your toys.
He chuckled when a shrill No came in the reply. He put the phone down and shifted closer to you and brought you into his arms, and as always, you fitted right into it.
He kissed your forehead and closed his eyes, "One day Cherry. One day you will remember me"
*****
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I think my writing is getting a bit rusty. It's not that good but I wanted to write it so yeah
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Lean On Me (Don’t Knock Me Over)
or: harry is a touring musician and you're here to interview him
feat: childhood friendship, flashbacks, friends to enemies to lovers,mention of panic attack/anxiety/puking
note: this is part one of a three-shot. Side note: I made up names for harry’s band, it’s an up and coming pop punk band so there’s that
Much like most things in life, when the paper slid through your desk, you immediately shoved it under the outgoing mail box.
anything that causes you stress immediately went there, a future problem for yourself.
It wasn't until the night before the show, when your manager turned best friend, Cindy sat in front of you tapping her new manicure on the desk in front of you that you even remembered it.
"I just don't see the big deal," she huffs, stopping the tapping of her nails long enough to push her blonde hair out of her eyes, "like, you two were kids. He probably doesn't even remember you. And besides, I have three people lined up who would literally kill you for this chance."
You groan, resisting the urge to fling your body on the floor and ahve a full body temper tantrum.
Instead, you act like an adult and throw a mini fit, throwing your head back and shoving the papers away from you.
"he'll remember me." you groan, rubbing your temples, "It was a small town."
"Good," Cindy shrugs, "Make him regret it, or whatever."
she pauses, and her voice drops, some of the hard that radiates off of her melts away for a second.
"I don't see what the big deal is still," she says quietly, "What happened?"
You remember the first time you heard him on the radio.
Driving down a crowded street in Cindy's car (the kind you could never even think of affording) the sun roof down, your hand out the window as the radio blasts, the sun beating down on your hand.
"This is 93.9 playing the hottest hits of the summer! To begin, we have a new single from Kennedy Curse, sure to get stuck in your head. They're new to the scene, but singer-"
Cindy all but squeals, leans forward to turn the dial on the radio up louder, "I love this band. l've been trying to get an interview with them for weeks.”
You snort as you drum your thumbs on the steering wheel, "Can't imagine it would be hard to get an interview with them-"
"Shh!" She hushes you, leans forward and turns the volume up until the car shakes under you.
"Chipped paint, Carol's gonna turn into dust-"
it was a reflex, a knee jerk reaction, something you couldn't stop. before you even knew what you were doing, you were leaning forward in your seat, slamming your hand against the volume button, immediately a silence falls over the two of you.
Cindy knows you've mentioned in passing an ex boyfriend, a singer, but haven't really elaborated on it. Now, it seems like you don't need to.
"So you'll do it?"
Cindy is all but squirming in her seat as she brings you back to the current.
The sigh is all the confirmation Cindy knows, letting out an ear piercing squeal again, "You won't regret it, i promise!"
She gets up to make her an escape, mentions something about transportation-
"I'll do it, but there has to be rules in place-" You're rubbing your temples, a headache already on the horizon, but Cindy isn't listening, long gone as she stops everyone in the hallway to mention the interview with the Kennedy Curse.
Backstage, harry fixes his hair in a broken mirror.
Something about ten years of bad luck, but he rations that's the problem for the person who broke it, not him-
A stage hand, over worked and underpaid, sticks his head backstage: "harry, Ten minutes.
Someone's here to see you-"
And the show is on.
The smirk finds his way to the corner of his lips, and it's game on. the harry who had a panic attack in the back room five minutes ago is long gone, definitely didn't puke into the garbage can earlier because of the nerves. Instead, it's now replaced by the harry he wants everyone to see; confident, cocky, bold-
"Fans already-"
And he rounds the corner and almost hits you with the door.
he speaks first. A reflex, like he's been searching for the name for months or years, waiitng for it to fall onto his lips again-
he speaks before he can stop himself, before he can hate himself for it he speaks before he can stop himself, before he can hate himself for it.
"Birdie."
The low whistle follows, some bird card be always associated with the nickname, for you always singing with him-even if you insisted you were bad.
it falls flat, feels wrong.
Not the cute nickname it was before, when you two would lie in the shared two sized mattress, harry’s feet falling off the edge of the bed, the sheets thrown over both of your heads for security;
“Birdie," he'd say, his voice low, eyelids heavy. even half asleep, the whistle followed, "I promise, to keep your side of the bed warm, always."
Under the sheets was vows between the two of you, the sillier the better, most of the time, but the hushed voices always told the truth.
Instead, you spoke back, his fingers over your lips, calloused from the non stop practicing, the yanking the garage door open at all hours of the night to practice: "I could find you in a crowd."
He laughs; it's lazy and low, like you both have all the time in the world, and he opens his mouth to say something about his height, but it lays heavy in the air as he kisses the crown of your head:
"And i'll always find you, Birdie."
Seeing him is jarring, to say the least.
The last visit was less than good, yelling and tears (from both of you) things said in the heat of the moment that keeps you both up and tossing and turning-
"It's just my normal name now, thanks." You say quickly, hoping it's dark enough backstage that he can't see the red spread across your face.
"Right," he nods, smirks as he leans against the wall, crosses his arms over his chest, "Well, birdie, I gotta say, you got a lot of nerve to wanna hear me sing after you tossed us into the gutter."
You snort, "Still the victim. i see nothings changed."
"Hilarious," he laughs without humor, takes a step toward you, eyes narrowed, that stupid fucking smirk still pulls at the side of his lips, "I see you're still following me around, hm?"
"God, I can't say I missed this. You're still an insufferable asshole-"
"An asshole you paid to see. So tell me, birdie, which of my songs do you like, hm? Still-"
You want to smack the smirk off his face. You dig your fingernails into your palm into you're sure they're going to bleed, leaving little half crescent moons in the middle of your palms, the same ones he use to study, trace over and commit to memory, kiss them better.
In some sick way, you were hoping you'd see each other and he'd apologize, come home-
"I'm just here for the interview," You shake the VIP lanyard around your neck in his face, "And then you never have to see me again."
His eyes dart to the lanyard and back to you, and for a second, he looks almost lost, like something hangs in the air that he wants to say-
"You have five minutes."
You snort, take the pencil from behind your ear,
"I'll make it two. We won't act like these are some deep songs of yours or anything-"
A local nobody band is opening, the drums are heavy and loud backstage, and the ponding begins the second you open your mouth, like it's planned.
harry leans in closer, grabs you by your elbow,
"Let's make a deal, birdie."
You act like you don't hear the low whistle fall out after the nickname.
"Listen-"
he cuts you off, "You listen to us and i'll do the interview, no bitching, after the show. we can go to the bus-"
the look you throw him is irritated and he huffs, holds his hands in the air, "Fine. I'll take you to a fuckin' restraaunt. I'll be on my best behavior, i'll have your manager eating out of your hand after this interview. Scouts honor."
He makes a show of crossing over his heart, holds his hand open in the air.
The smirk never leaves his face, even when your eyes narrow as he sets his hand between you two.
"Deal, birdie?"
You don't speak, eyes narrowed, but your hand slides into his like it never left.
It feels like you're making a deal with the devil.
#magnolia writes#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles ff#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harry styles au#harry styles one shot#harry styles one direction#one direction#one direction fic
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Hey bee! I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is in 1D and she gets in a water fight with Liam and Louis and one of them accidentally throws a security guards hot coffee on her?
A/N: Thank you for the request! Idk if this is what you were hoping for but it was super fun to write. I did it quickly, so hopefully it's good and hopefully you enjoy it.
Warnings: Some explicit language, water fights, thrown beverages
"I don' think I wanna be a par' of this…"
"Don' ya dare bail on me now." You whisper through gritted teeth, giving Zayn as intimidating of a scowl as you possibly can. "They soaked me on stage. I need payback. And I need your help to do it."
Your friend and fellow bandmate rolls his eyes, followed by a quick shake of his head, crouching down behind the racks of clothes in the boys' dressing room.
Footsteps become audible, and you begin to settle into your spot, readying yourself for the plan you are determined to execute.
You can make out the mumbles of both Louis and Liam, the ones who you hope will think twice about including you, unwillingly, in their onstage water fights.
You jump up, being met with wide eyes and shocked expressions as a sarcastically evil expression pops through your facial features.
"This is for last night!" You shout, chucking half a bottle of water towards each boy, watching as their shock grows even more.
"You lil shit!" Louis yelps, squinting his eyes to avoid the water irritating them, but also to glare in your direction.
"Karma is a bitch, Tommo."
"Well, so am I!" He exclaims, swiveling around to the nearby table and grabbing the closest water bottle he can get his hands on.
"No, no, no. M'sorry." You immediately state, holding your palms out in surrender as he stalks towards you. "C'mon Louis… ya don' really wanna do this…"
His crooked smile does nothing to ease your worry as you watch Liam begin to grab his own ammunition and join your other mate.
"Payno… boys… le's talk about this, yeah? We…" As you prepare to embarrass yourself by begging them to stop, your calves hit against the edge of the couch, causing your body to fling down onto the cushions. "We… can work something out!"
Liam makes it shoulder to shoulder with Louis, standing right in front of you.
"Don' ya dar-"
Suddenly, the splash of cold water washes over your hair and streams down your face, causing you to squeal in discomfort and the boys to cackle with triumph.
"I can' believe you two idiots!" You exclaim, immediately standing up, pushing past them, and grabbing a couple of bottles for yourself. You stand on the opposite side of them, a small table being the only thing separating you from your opponents. The three of you glare into each other's eyes, all fidgeting with the plastic in your hands. "This is war."
"Bring it on." Liam replies, eyebrows raised with anticipation of your reaction to his threat.
"Le' me leave first!" Zayn pleads, rushing to safety within the doorframe.
"Hello, lovers! What's-" Niall stops next to Zayn and his eyes widen at the sight in front of him. "What's… goin'… on…"
"Payback." You quickly state, flickering your gaze to him for only a split second, instantly returning it to the ones across from you.
"Jesus Christ…" He replies. "This'll be fun to watch."
"What will?" You hear Harry ask, not daring to turn his way in fear of the battle beginning while you're not looking.
"Everyone shut up!" Louis shouts, squatting down slightly in preparation.
You take a deep breath and suddenly the sound of the plastic bottles being crushed fills the air. The feeling of water running down your back giving you chills, but your feet swiftly moving around the room helping you to get in some shots of your own
Bottle after bottle is being swiped from the table as the insults and liquid go flying.
"What the hell is going on here?" Someone yells from the doorway, grabbing half of the attention of each of you as you continue to dodge Liam and Louis' attacks.
Your eyes manage to catch a glimpse of John, one of the band's security guards, bolting into the room, quickly placing a cup on the coffee table and maneuvering to grab a hold of whoever he can catch first.
Liam is the first to be stopped, with John pushing him towards the direction of the innocent bystanders.
"Jus' you and me, darling!" Louis proclaims, a mischievous laugh following the comment dripping with sass.
"Don' call me darling, you wanker!" You shout back, running to grab yet another bottle.
You quickly rush past him, spilling about half of the bottle down the back of his shirt, and as he yelps out, you see him twist his way out of John's reach and grab more ammunition from the smaller table.
Louis lunges towards you, throwing his hand out in an attack, and as the liquid hits your arm, a heat penetrates through your jumper.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" You scream, grabbing your wounded limb and flopping to the ground.
"Oh don' play victim, love." Louis quips, turning around and displaying an abundance of regret as you begin to wince at the pain. "YN?"
All five boys turn to you, immediately rushing over to your side, and you see John hurry out through the door with his walkie-talkie pressed up against his mouth.
"Bloody hell, Tommo! What did you do?" Liam asks, kneeling down beside you with a hand gently placed on your back.
"I just… I didn't…" He stutters, looking at the ground and bending down to reveal the cup John had put down, before his attempt to end the water fight. It is empty of whatever beverage it had contained and all eyes turn to your jumper, a stain appearing of what smells like coffee. "Shit! YN! M'so sorry!"
"Ge' your jumper off." Harry states, his eyes full of concern as he stares at the spot you're grabbing onto.
"What?"
"So it doesn' injure you more." He replies, nodding down as if to encourage you to grab the hem.
"Umm… m'only wear-... wearin' a bra underneath…" You utter, watching as the expression of each boy turns into one of awkward uncertainty. They've seen you in that predicament before, but usually during a quick change. The close proximity now makes this situation a bit too intimate for everyone's comfort level.
"Hold on." Liam states, jumping up and striding over to the closest rack of clothes, swiping the first t-shirt he sees, and making his way back to you. He tosses it over, and each boy twists around in a slightly different direction while you remove your wet top and immediately replace it with the clean, dry one.
"Alright." You mumble, watching as the five of them turn back to you.
Louis glances over your attire and you look down to see that the article of clothing now on your body is actually his. Ironic.
"Serves me right I s'pose." He chuckles under his breath. "YN, m'really sorry."
"S'alright." You quietly respond, dropping your gaze to the floor, displaying sadness, pain, and a mild amount of embarrassment.
"Come 'ere." He states, his arms stretched towards you to offer an embrace. You scoot on your knees, inching a little closer to him, and wrap one arm around him. He gives you a little squeeze, and as he pulls back, you bring your other arm around him, causing him to lean back in to prolong the hug.
"Guess we were both right." You utter in his ear, keeping a hold on your bandmate.
"Bout what?"
The hand you last reached around him lifts over his head and turns down, pouring the contents of a bottle you had been hiding at your side, waiting for the right moment to exact your revenge.
"Karma is a bitch." You laugh, letting go and pulling back to see him frantically wipe the water from his face. "And so are you."
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If your name is blue I couldn't tag you
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TIE THE BOW
masterlist
"What kind of trend is this?" harry asks, voice laced with confusion while you tie the thin satin ribbon delicately around his tattooed arm. The short sleeves of his white tee pushed up to his shoulder, reveals more of his inked skin.
"not a trend," you reply. "But I saw some people on the internet doing it and I wanted you to try, at least for me." Taking a step back, you admire the ribbon around his arms. His tattoos make him look masculine but the pink ribbon adds a touch of femininity. It looks so pretty.
"Can I ever say no to you, darling?" his gaze meets yours with a sly grin playing on his lips. you flush.
"you can't even dare to!" you say as you drop your arms around his neck and lean in to kiss his nose. He smiles but before he could lift his arms to engulf you, you stop him by catching his arms. "Now, now! you'll have to flex your left arm when i tell you to, okay?"
"yes, ma'am." he replies, with a grin still plastered on his face as he bows down to you in a playful gesture of submission. you laugh, shaking your head as you move to place your phone on the top of your small bookshelf. you open and set the camera and adjust the angle and frame so it films harry.
"Alright, are you ready?" you ask him as he faces you at the same time. He raises his right hand thumb giving you his frog smile. oh his dimples! that could melt the heart of anyone.
you turn on the video recording as you count down from 3 to 1. On your "go", he lifts his left arm, flexing his bicep. He shows off his impressive muscles. oh the bump! your eyes capture the moment when ribbon tears off his arms effortlessly and lands on the floor. He seems a little surprised when it happens.
A second passes and you squeal with happiness, jumping like a child. "OH MY GOSH!" you clap your hands together.
He watches you with a frown on his face. "did you really want the ribbon to rip?"
"yess, that's the trend!!" He laughs as you say that, finding it adorable how happy you are about something so trivial.
"oh well then… I'm glad it did!" you grin and get in front of him, cupping his face as you smack your lips against his. This time you let him wrap his arms around your waist. you can't believe you really made him do this even though you know he'd have never said no to it.
A sweet little kiss but harder and you pull away. He keeps you flushed against his chest. "That was so hot! Can we do that again?" you whisper, running your palm up his arm as he squeezes you tighter. He gives you a slight smirk.
"emhm, no. It's your turn now." he glances at the laces, bows with half cut ribbons and ribbon rolls scattered out of the box on the bed. He replaces his hands, now beneath your t-shirt. He raises your t-shirt up, and taking the hint you let him take it off. your tee now hanging off the edge of your bed, leaving you in your crimson bralette.
He begins tying a ribbon around your tummy. you giggle. As he does this, he sits down on the bed. Now, his face levels with your chest. Once the ribbon is tied perfectly, he leans down and marks quick kisses on your tummy. Quiet giggles escape from your lips, finding the sensation amusing.
you lean over and take the few colourful hair pins from the same box where the ribbons are kept on the bed. He feels your fingers in his hair whilst he works on his art, feeling the click with the sound as you're done putting the first clip.
"heyy!" he feigns protest, but both of you giggle like kids. In the moment, by grabbing your waist he throws you on the bed. Your body bounces against the fluffy mattress as he claims the top position, making sure to pin you down.
"Let me put this in your hair please!" you request, knowing very well that he could never say no to you.
"hm?" he says as he gets lost in the heat and gets too busy suckling down your neck and up your jaw. his lips tickles your skin, making you tilt your head to the side.
he halts unexpectedly, his breathing slightly heavy as he stares down at you. your gaze moves and admires the way his side hair is pinned back, the pink pin adorning it that you put earlier. It looks absolutely adorable. his eyes trails down to your stomach where sits the perfect tied ribbon he did. you feel his fingers graze along your side waist again.
taking an opportunity, you clip another hairpin to the other side of his head which directs his attention back onto your face. you examine his hair. "you look so cute with these hairpins." his face flusters as you touch it, his dimples are in full display.
"just like a baby girl?" your heart flutters as the words escape from his pink lips that look so kissable right now. He remembers how you tease him by calling him "baby girl" every chance you get but this time he asked himself by calling himself that.
"just like a baby girl! i was about to say that." he breathes out a laugh, nestling his head into the crook of your neck. you're pressed under his strong body but he's like your teddy bear providing you the softest warmth.
your bodies stay entwined as you enjoy the silence and make small, silly talks. but things escalated from making out to a point where you gasp when he ties down your wrists together with the ribbons, making you accustomed to how he can switch from being a baby girl to a dom within seconds and minutes. A dom with hairpins in his hair.
The playful times and giggles go on. you both remain oblivious of video recording that is still on and how your romantic session is being recorded.
𐙚°⋆˙✮
#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry styles writing#one direction#writeblr#writer things#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#writing#oneshot#harry styles fanfiction#fanfic#fluff#harrystyles x reader#harry smut#harrys house#fine line#coquette#harry styles one direction
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REQUEST ALWAYS OPEN
kiss her & don’t tells= pink
instagram blurb= blue
not released yet/ ☓= red
LONG HAIR HARRY↓
Temporary Fix *
summary During the On the Road Again Tour, Harry uses his bandmate’s girlfriend as a distraction from his previous relationship.
PRINCE HAIR HARRY ↓
Grounded *
summary: in which your boyfriend skips a party to be with you.
Attention Span of A Goldfish *
summary: harry proves his point.
Good Boy *
ask: Subrry so gone that he keeps eating you even after you have already cum and are overstimulated but he can’t stop because he just wants to be a good boy for you 😩 I HOPE YOU ARE WELL
LOVE ON TOUR↓
Harryween *
summary: y/n loves harry’s costume.
Midnights *
summary: in which, harry is horny late into the night.
Orgasm Denial w/ Subbry *
ask: su -susss-sub harry pls mama pls pls PLEASE IM BEGGING BANGING MY FIST AGAINST THE GROUNG
Tripping, Falling
summary: subspace blurb
Happy new year
summary in which harry and y/n celebrate their second new years together and y/n makes a big decision in order to keep her and harry’s relationship alive.
DAD!HARRY↓
Harry’s Daughters
Stranger Things Release + Dating Rumors
Los Angeles Residency 4 and 5
(better together series)
PHH/LHH as a dad
Santa Baby *
summary: In which, the Styles’ family is spending their first Christmas in one their homes, in Y/n’s hometown, Boston.
WORST DADDY EVER
summary in which Angel is upset with her father and calls him the worst dad ever.
LOVE ME LIKE YOU DO *
summary: harry and his wife have kitchen sex
The Start of HS4…
HUSBAND!HARRY
Pregnancy Announcement Extended
Los Angeles Residency 4 and 5
Grammys ‘23
summary harry and y/n are up against each other.
The Start of HS4
SOON TO BE DAD!HARRY
Pregnancy Announcement Extended
NERD!HARRY↓
The Cute Tutor *
summary harry is completely obsessed with y/n. but when harry volunteered to be y/n’s tutor just as an excuse to see her every week, he had no idea having an attraction to someone you’re tutoring would become such torture. but harry is completely oblivious to y/n’s flirtatious manner towards him.
cw: phone sex
BOYFRIEND!HARRY↓
Open *
Best of Friends
summary actress!singer!reader is best friends with the one and only harry styles. many suspect romance between the two… but can you blame them? here are some of their birthday post for each other throughout the years💕 face claim, gracie abrams
Princess Treatment
18+ subspace aftercare with no plot
Subrry x Mean!Y/n
ask: can you please write subrry with mean dom y/n? <33 i feel deprived of subrry lately 😭
Precious *
summary In which Y/n is busy and isn’t able to tend and take care of a small sensitive Harry.
Breed Me *
summary: Harry breeds his wife with baby #2
Sad Harry (blurb)
summary harry’s sad and doesn’t know why.
DAD’S BESTFRIEND!HARRY↓
Beautiful Corruption *
You’re Pretty When You Cry *
CHEATER!HARRY↓
Party Pleaser
summary: where y/n tends to think she can blackmail harry to get what she wants but harry puts her in her place awfully quick by making her plead for a gut wrenching orgasm.
ALL MINE *
PROFESSOR!HARRY↓
Edge of Seventeen
BEST FRIEND’S DAD↓
Relentless *
Better Than Me*
DADDY!HARRY↓
Play Date ft. Zayn Malik *
EX BOYFRIEND!HARRY ↓
BAD KIND OF BUTTERFLIES *
summary:
OLDER!HARRY↓
Relentless *
Better Than Me *
FWB!HARRY↓
SHOULD’VE SAID IT *
summary: In which Harry and Y/n had a situationship a few months back. Y/n gets a new boyfriend who she claims she loves deeply but when Harry comes back and they hook up it makes all of his feelings for her suddenly come back. But Y/n claims Harry is too late.
STEPBROTHER!HARRY↓
WHOSE GONNA BRING THE POP TO THE CINEMA?
ask: HEYYY!! I LOVE your writings! can you please write one, where they fuck in the cinema OR ANY PUBLIC SEX? Either stepbrother h or dbf harry. I don’t care which one you choose, I just want that to happen.
FRAT BOY!HARRY↓
LAST CHRISTMAS
summary In which Harry and Y/n had relationship troubles last christmas and are excited to celebrate their first christmas together.
FETUS!HARRY↓
GANG!HARRY↓
STEPDAD!HARRY↓
PORNSTAR!HARRY↓
LIVE ON TOUR↓
BROTHER’S BESTFRIEND↓
#harry styles#harry styles smut#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#dom!harry#harry styles x y/n#subbry#sub!harry#dom harry styles#sun!harry x dom!reader#harry styles one direction#harry styles one shot#harry styles masterlist#whitemanscumslut#whitemancumslut
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Harry Styles
#niall and harry#harry styles background#louis and harry#harry and niall#harry styles#harry icons#harry styles b&w#solo harry#harry styles avatars#harry smut#harry styles brown#harry styles news#harry styles nugget#harry styles one direction#harry styles olivia wilde#harry styles outfit#harry styles one shot#harry styles on tour#harry styles photos#harry styles poster#harry styles pregnant#harry styles plus size#harry styles pictures#harry styles quotes
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daisy 2 (english profrry x quiet TA!yn)
she's alive and I hope you like it 🩷 I think there will be a short epilogue wrapping everything up after this :)
part one
word count: 7.9k
content warnings: a bit of angst (nothing too crazy), smut (f receiving oral, penetration, size kink/belly bulge, dirty talk, a tiny bit of cum play), and — as stated in the first part — massive, big fat warning for an inappropriate power imbalance.
main masterlist | talk to me
. . .
Y/N had tried to talk herself out of it. Several times, actually. For hours.
But at a certain point, she realized all she was doing was driving herself insane with a nonstop, hamster wheel of thinking. She couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Professor Styles — or Harry, rather, as he’d said earlier — over and over, nitpicking at every tiny detail. She wished she had someone to go to — an unbiased, neutral third party who wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, but she doubted that even if she did have that, they’d think her analysis of their discussion would be appropriate.
Because she had a huge, obvious, stupid crush on her professor.
Well, he wasn’t technically her professor. She was just the professor she was… assisting, and that technicality is the only thing that gave her enough courage to bundle up beneath layers of thermal wear and her forest green puffer jacket, hiking through the chilly winter evening to see if, by some miracle, Harry was still in his office.
On the way there, she spoke to herself sternly. She needed to have a goal in mind — an intention, really, of what exactly she was going there for. It wasn’t a normal thing to go see a professor in his office on a Monday at 6:40 pm.
It wasn’t normal to think about his grumpy face and even crankier demeanor; the way his lips pursed thoughtfully around wordy responses about a student’s answer to an essay question, or his long, calloused fingers that wrapped around the same gel ink pens he always used for grading.
It wasn’t normal for her to fall asleep imagining herself pressing her own plush lips to the same ones that nearly begged for an apology just a few hours ago.
And it certainly wasn’t normal for her professor to admit that he’d spent the weekend thinking of her, either.
The English building stays unlocked until around 9 pm on weekdays, just in case professors end up hauling their grading into late nights or students have group projects. She hurries through the wooden doors as soon as she arrives, hurriedly yanking her mittens off and stuffing them in her coat pockets as she walks the familiar journey down to Harry’s office. She’s unsurprised that most of the offices and classrooms have already gone dim, but the closer she gets to Harry’s, the sooner she realizes that his is the exception. With the bleak, yellowed light from the lamp she’d picked out a few weeks back, she sees a faint luminance from his office’s frosted window. Swallowing, she decides against her better judgment before waltzing in like she owns the place, and instead opts for a hesitant knock, punctuating it with a call of his name.
“Profess— Harry? Are you in there?” she nibbles on her lip before tacking on a, "It's Y/N."
She hopes he recognizes her voice as she wrings her fingers together in front of her. She thinks she hears muffled movement on the other side of the door, but she’s not entirely sure. It never occurred to her that perhaps he wouldn’t want to see her — maybe he’d peek through the crack of the door, see her face, and widen his own eyes in shock and embarrassment, maintaining silence until she eventually gave up and walked away. Her throat bobs nervously at the imagery.
She’s ready to give up when the door swings open, revealing a rather flushed looking version of the typically neat, well-kept professor she’s used to seeing. His cheeks don a splotchy pink hue that speckles down to his neck, where his usual button down is currently undone. Underneath, he wears a plain white tee-shirt. She blinks at the small display of intimacy before snapping her eyes back up to his face. He’s running his finger through his messy curls, tugging lightly at the base of the locks.
“Is everything alright?” he asks through a slightly nervous voice. With furrowed eyebrows, she nods her head slowly.
“Yes— well, no, I guess. I feel bad about earlier.”
She chokes the words out in hopes that she can keep her humiliation at bay. She’s unsure if her eyes deceive her, but it seems as though his face relaxes some before he quickly nods, stepping aside to let her in.
“Um, you have nothing to feel bad about,” he says, shutting the door quietly behind her. She shrugs her shoulders as she stands in the middle of his small office, avoiding his gaze. “I was out of line, Y/N.”
“What did you mean by it?” she rushes out, facing him with a leery expression. “That you spent the weekend thinking of me. And feeling awful about how you’ve treated me.”
His mouth opens and closes, and she can’t help the way she glances down at his raspberry-hued lips. She swallows tightly, biting on her own bottom lip.
“This isn’t something we can do,” he mumbles out breathily with a shake of his head. “You know that, right?”
They’re dancing around the obvious. Her stomach lurches at the low, groveled volume of his voice, and her fingers twitch at her sides as she resists the urge to step closer to him. She’s never been forward with a romantic interest before — she’s never had a reason to be, to uphold a certain level of confidence.
But she can’t help herself.
“Tell me, then. Tell me what you thought of this weekend.”
Harry’s nostrils flare.
“If it’s not something we can do,” Y/N says softly, licking over her lips, “Then whatever you thought about should be nothing, right?”
He’s torn. He’s so utterly torn that it feels like his brain is being split in half. He knows what he should do — he should tell her she’s wrong and that she should leave. He should leave this entire situation behind him, chalk it up to him being a touch-deprived idiot, and move on with his life. Join a few dating apps and find someone decent to settle down with.
But why would he do what he’s supposed to do?
“I thought about how fucking shitty I felt for ignoring you for weeks after you told me you just wanted my praise,” Harry blurts, heart hammering in his chest as he slowly starts to close the gap between their bodies. “I thought about how much I like having you around — how smart and talented you are, how beautiful and creative your brain is.”
“I’m not—”
“I’m not finished,” he replies curtly, making Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. “I thought about how pretty you are. I thought about how I’m thankful to have you as my assistant, because no one has ever been able to meet me on the same level. I thought about… how I’d be taking advantage of you if I told you any of those things, so I promised that I’d keep them to myself.”
He’s standing directly before her now. He’s so close that she can smell the warm musk of his cologne and see the freckles dotted over his nose. It makes her stomach churn in the best way.
“Why didn’t you?” she finally breathes out.
A smirk forms at the edges of his lips. He looks down at her as if he wants to swallow her whole, and she’s not sure that she doesn’t want him to.
“You asked me to tell you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. He reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and her skin zips with electricity. “‘S not much of my fault now, is it?”
Quickly, she shakes her head. She swallows nervously and hopes he doesn’t notice her picking at her nails as she waits for him to surge forward and press a messy kiss to her lips.
But instead, he stops.
A look of clarity ghosts over his face and his throat bobs. It doesn’t stop him from thumbing over her chin with sorrowed eyes.
“We’ll wait until the end of the semester,” he murmurs out. The look of disappointment on Y/N’s face must be obvious because his eyebrows furrow in dejection. “It’s the safest way, okay? After that… after that, I’m yours.”
I’m yours. It echoes through her brain, making her heart thump rapidly in her chest. She feels it everywhere, but the hesitancy remains.
“Promise me,” she whispers, pressing a wary hand to the expanse of his chest. “Promise me I’m not wasting my time. Promise me that you mean this.”
He can’t help it — before he can even contemplate the consequences, he ducks down to connect their lips. It takes her by surprise but she immediately kisses him back, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer.
Despite the reluctant context, the physical bond is anything but. Harry kisses her unhurriedly, like he has years to worship every bit of her lips. He dips his tongue into her mouth the second she grants him the opportunity, and her chest feels like it’s ready to explode when he squeezes her hip. His large palm easily finds its way to her ass and she whimpers breathily into the seal of his mouth. It’s the only thing that brings him back down to earth — a reminder that he’s no longer daydreaming but experiencing the real thing. He forces himself to break the kiss but leans his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes shuttered closed.
“I promise you,” he exhales, and he feels her nod. “I’m yours.”
. . .
Attempting to act normal around Harry is harder than Y/N had anticipated.
In hindsight, the evening consisted of a half-assed confession and a rather… intimate kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet. If it had been with anyone else — someone her age, a fellow student or peer, maybe — she, of course, would be anxious over it. But the fact that she had to see him a day later in class was… well, somehow embarrassing.
She contemplates her outfit for hours, wanting to seem cute and put-together without overly desperate. She was scared it would be written all over her face the second she walked in and sat at her seat beside his podium — "I made out with Professor Styles in his office a day and a half ago and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for more than two seconds since it happened" may as well have been written across her forehead.
When she finally does show up to class, Harry looks… well, he looks like his usual self. He’s wearing those wide-legged trousers that she thinks he must have in at least a dozen colors, matched with a button down and a sweater vest overtop. He’s standing at the podium with his back to the entrance as he waits for students to filter in, squeezing his bottom lip between his fingers. He’s reading something, Y/N’s unsure what it is, but when he hears the less than graceful clatter of her setting her things down at the table, he glances over to her and flashes her a smile.
A smile.
“Hey,” he greets. His voice is low and gruff and if she hadn’t been looking for it, she surely would’ve missed it. But she doesn’t, and it instead sends a zap of lovesick energy thrumming through her body.
“Hi.” she mumbles back, waving as she leans over to pull her laptop from her bag.
That’s the extent of the interaction, but it’s far more than she’s ever received from him. Normally, when she arrives at class, he fully ignores her. She only began to take issue with it when she figured out she was growing feelings for him, but somehow the quiet utterance of hey feels like a public acknowledgement of what occurred just a day prior. In some crazy way, it seems like it’s just as open as grabbing her and smacking a hard kiss to her lips. She finds herself wishing he would as he begins today’s lecture on male writers in feminist discourse.
As written on the schedule, Harry’s taking the time to discuss authors like George Herbert, John Berryman, and Leo Tolstoy. Y/N doesn’t feel particularly drawn to any of those figures, though a few weeks back when she and Harry were discussing this unit, they did find a mutual appreciation for Jacques Lacan. He wasn’t originally in the lesson plan — Y/N remembers it vividly, because she can recall saying that he would be a great fit. Her heart had expanded in her chest with praise when Harry agreed.
And yet… Harry’s standing up there in front of the lecture hall, waxing poetic in the dreamiest way possible, about Jacques Lacan.
“Lacan was incredibly controversial, so I don’t expect all of us to feel comfortable with translating his viewpoints to modern day psychology,” Harry explains as he hovers over the old, wooden podium, “But what I do want to dig into is his basic idea of the symbolic register. Does anyone know what that is?”
Yes, Y/N wants to say. It’s the concept that our existence as humans includes language, culture, and rituals.
“Lacan came up with this idea that he thought was waiting for us the second we were born. He felt that the symbolic register encompassed maybe more artsy, culture-based facets, and that was one of the most important parts of the human existence. We won’t get too far into it because this isn’t a psychology course, and frankly, I could give a shit if you truly understand this or not.” The class, including Y/N, laughs quietly. Harry rolls his lips into a thin line to avoid a smirk from appearing.
When the huffed merriment tapers off, he continues. “What I want you to take away as writers is this: Lacan’s symbolic register essentially implies that our lives, from the very start, are swamped with uncertainty. There’s no path for us. As you write your characters, consider that. Lacan thought that life experiences, specifically lack and desire, were what impacted the course we go on.”
As expected, the class is silent. Y/N’s found that students are typically too nervous or intimidated to contribute to conversations during Harry’s lectures, and she’s been on the receiving end of many, many emails asking things that could have been resolved in class.
“Think about what your characters lack. What are they missing? What are they unable to receive access to? Is it a resistance to pleasure, to giving in?”
Y/N swallows harshly at that. She pretends like she doesn’t hear it, instead focusing in on typing a response to an email in her inbox.
“And then, consider their desires. Their deepest, darkest wants. No one has to know them — in real life, no one truly knows our truest desires, anyway,” she swears her eyes squeeze closed at that, but she quickly snaps them open, “But use it as an exercise for this weekend. Don’t forget, second drafts are due on Monday. Class is dismissed.”
Y/N swear she feels a second heartbeat in her core as the lecture hall begins to trickle out with students.
. . .
“I thought we were waiting until the semester is over.” Y/N blurts it out when she can’t focus on grading Ren Wei's draft.
Slowly, Harry glances up from the stack of papers he’s currently grading. With confused eyebrows, he sets his pen down.
“We are,” he says softly.
“Then what were you talking about in class today?” She hisses lowly. She keeps her voice quiet even though the door to Harry’s office is shut closed.
“What do you mean?”
Y/N sighs frustratedly and sits back in her seat. She avoids Harry’s confused gaze as she crosses her arms over her chest. He ignores the way it pushes her breasts up through the soft fabric of her sweater.
“The whole lack and desire thing. You know you weren’t planning on talking about Lacan until I brought him up a few weeks ago.”
Harry’s throat bobs and she licks over her lips, quickly glancing back up to his face. She’s right — they both know she’s right, but Harry’s reluctant to admit it. He’s stubborn — he’s always been this way in relationships, and it tends to be one of his greater downfalls as a partner. Deep in the pit of his heart, he knows Y/N deserves better. She wouldn’t be worth putting his job or her status as a student in danger if she wasn’t.
“You’re right,” he finally admits as he nibbles on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. It was out of line and I won’t do that anymore.”
She pauses for a beat. And then, “I thought maybe you changed your mind.”
His shoulders deflate and she suddenly feels embarrassed. It was a stupid thing to reveal, she decides, and she picks at the skin surrounding her fingernails as she mentally beats herself up for it.
And for a moment, Harry contemplates it. He knows it hasn’t been that long since he told her they have to wait, but he’d be a ridiculous liar if he didn’t admit that she’s all he’s been thinking about ever since they kissed in his office. Nervously, he reaches across the length of his wooden desk and takes her hand into his. He intertwines their fingers together and gives her hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and she looks up at him through her eyelashes. It makes his heart warm.
“You know this is incredibly difficult for me, right?” he asks. Y/N shakes her head and he scoffs in response. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N.”
She blushes. “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”
“Yeah?” he chuckles, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. She nods. “When we kissed, it… it was so good, y’know? It just… it felt good.”
“I know,” she breathes. She squeezes his fingers lightly before retracting her own hand and placing it in her lap. She may look naive, but she's already decided that she won't let him have the upper hand – not when it comes to something she can actually have control over, like teasing.
The movement surprises him but he chooses not to acknowledge it. “But this is what we decided on, right? It’s better this way. It’s kind of like edging, hm?”
His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull as she glances down at her phone to look at the time.
“Anyway, I have to head out to class. Text me if you need anything, Professor Styles.”
She waltzes out of his office with a snarky, knowing grin on her lips, and Harry has to do a series of deep breathing to stop his cock from exploding in his trousers.
. . .
Y/N Y/L/N is a complete and utter minx.
Harry has no choice but to come to this conclusion because in the weeks that follow their agreement, he swears she does everything she can to try and make him break. The worst part is, he doesn’t even know if she’s doing it intentionally. But every time they’re in the same room, all he can think about is hauling her over his shoulder, locking her in his office, and stretching her body over the length of his desk so he can fuck her until she can’t even think straight.
And there’s still three months left of the semester.
Admittedly, nothing ever really happens between them. Despite the apparent and blatant flirting that occurs on both sides, they keep things surprisingly professional, even behind closed doors. For the first time in his teaching career, Harry is actually ahead of grading. For some reason, he feels as though it’s a testament to how well he and Y/N actually work together.
But then there’s the matter of her teasing, which drives him up a fucking wall — the cute little mini skirts she almost always wears, the batting of her eyelashes at students in his class, followed by the wide-eyed smile she flashes Harry as soon as she knows he’s seen it. She even out-smarted him on Ursula LeGuin the other day and, as dorky as it seems, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life.
It’s a series of back-and-forth. When Y/N has to leave his office for class, he’ll thumb at her chin or her cheeks so she gets all flustered before she heads out. Later that night, she’ll text him an innocent question with some sort of “typo”:
can’t stop thinking about your lips
oops! list* not lips! your list of grades — it’s due next friday, right??
It’s a stupid, risky game that neither of them can stop playing.
Even when they’re sitting in Harry’s office that Wednesday afternoon, buried beneath piles of final drafts for the midterm paper, he can’t help but gnaw on his bottom lip as she sits across from him. She’s focused — the cute furrow between her brows is the primary tell — but every now and then she’ll bring her pen up to her mouth to bite on it or poke her tongue out to lick over her lips.
Despite the chill of the day, she’s wearing a wool mini skirt atop sheer black tights, and he hasn’t been able to stop glancing down at the soft skin of her thighs since she showed up to campus hours ago. He wants nothing more than to rip a hole in the fabric, pull her into his lap, and kiss her until she’s a whimpering, breathless mess.
He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the clock is steadily ticking towards 5 pm and, technically, Y/N should’ve left an hour ago. With wide eyes, he drops his pen on the pile of papers in front of him.
“Shit,” he curses, “You should go. Your hours ended at 4.”
She taps her phone screen beside her, “Oh. I didn’t realize it was so late. I guess I got in the groove with grading.”
“It happens.” He says understandingly as he leans back against his chair, stretching his achy back out some. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”
She peers up at him through her lashes. “It’s 5 pm on a Friday, Harry. You should leave, too.”
He runs his tongue over his teeth. She’s right, especially since he’s been attempting to distract himself from his crush on Y/N by doing late grading sessions in his office.
“Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbles as he grabs his large tote bag. “I’ll walk you out, if that’s okay.”
They both know that it’s perhaps a cross of the boundary they’ve been trying to firmly maintain, but how harmful could a walk be?
Y/N flashes him a small smile. Silently, they each pack their things up, and she follows him out of this office as he locks his door. They walk side-by-side, Y/N nibbling on her bottom lip as Harry tries to resist the urge to grab the hand that he keeps accidentally brushing with his own knuckles.
“Do you have any weekend plans?” She suddenly asks softly, glancing up at the taller male.
He hums, “Nothing too exciting. Probably just gonna catch up on TV and reading. You?”
“The secret life of an English professor, hm?” Y/N teases and he chuckles. “I have to start prepping for midterms. Laundry, too. I guess nothing more fun than your plans.”
He laughs and her stomach erupts into flutters as he holds the front door for her. She smiles in gratitude, but her steps come to a stop when she witnesses the state of the weather.
It’s nearly a white out. A snowstorm must have barreled through while they were busy grading, because now it’s dark, flurries of snow instantly landing on Y/N’s eyelashes and jacket.
“Y/N,” Harry appears at her side, “You’re not planning on walking through this, are you?”
“I-I don’t have a car.” She mumbles, stuffing her already freezing cold hands into her pockets. “I’ll be fine, it’s not far.”
“No, but I wouldn’t feel okay with sending you home in this,” he replies. She blinks when she feels his hand reach out to her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Would you let me drive you home, please? Just so I know you get home safely.”
Her stomach turns. This would officially cross the student/teacher boundary, but he’s right — it’s frigid out, and she always hates walking home in the dark anyway. Swallowing tightly, she nods.
“Yeah, please. I’ll take a ride.”
“Good,” he exhales with a nod, “My car’s just over in the faculty lot.”
With the both of them slowly shuffling through the snowy ground, they eventually make it to Harry’s car. As expected, it’s covered in snow, but he turns it on and blasts the heat so she can sit inside while he uses a brush to clear it off. She picks at her fingernails as she watches him through the foggy front window, her chest continuing to grow with nerves. She knows that this is all she’s wanted for weeks — to be alone with Harry, outside of the confines of his office — so why is she so scared?
Luckily, he gets in the car before she has more time to contemplate it. Blowing warm air into his cupped hands, he shivers dramatically.
“Fuck, it’s cold,” he whines, making her giggle. “Something funny about that, passenger princess?”
“No!” She exclaims with a laugh, “I’m sorry I didn’t help clear your car off. I’m sure that was awful.”
His eyes crinkle teasingly as he chuckles along with her. As he backs up out of the parking spot with ease, he presses the palm of his hand to the back of Y/N’s headrest, checking to make sure he’s clear. She wonders if he’s used to driving in the snow, but lets the question die in her throat instead of pushing the conversation.
“Sorry, I didn’t ask where you live,” he says when he turns onto the main road. “I think you mentioned once that you’re not too far from campus?”
She nods. “Yeah, I’m on Maple. It’s a single-person house, I’ll tell you where to turn.”
“You live alone?”
She doesn’t think the question is meant to be inherently suggestive, but there’s something about his immediate response that has her teetering on feeling that way. Swallowing, she nods again.
“Mhm. Most of my friends graduated or moved away when we finished undergrad, so it’s just me.”
“No pets or anything? You seem like the type to own one of those bald cats.”
Y/N balks at his reply, a peel of laughter bubbling from her chest. “What?”
Harry’s cheeks warm as he slowly drives down the snow-covered street. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he thinks about what kind of person she is when she’s not around — he knows it probably sounds creepy, but it’s how he’s been entertaining himself in the meantime.
“I just… feel like you’d like those things,” he treads lightly, shrugging his shoulders, “Is my assumption wrong?”
“Very much so. I’ve only had dogs,” she giggles, “Are there any other assumptions I should know about?”
His throat bobs. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” she quirks a brow. “Turn at the light.”
He flicks his right signal on, “I may have tried to figure you out a bit in my… spare time.”
He cringes, but the sound of her laughter quickly pulls him from his embarrassment.
“Well now I have to know.”
“Fine,” he decides, finding himself drawn to her little game, “I think you prefer matcha or hot chocolate over coffee.”
“True, but that’s only because you watch me cringe every time you drink your stupid black coffee.”
Harry snorts, “Okay, fair. I think you’re a homebody.”
“Mhmm,” Y/N nods. “True. Go on.”
“You prefer chocolate to vanilla.”
“Strawberry, actually.”
He hums. “You read period piece smut for fun.”
Y/N lets out a loud cackle. “What about my personality makes you think that?”
“You just seem like the type to go to the romance section at the bookstore, but only buy dirty books that are set in the 1800s,” he replies easily, a smirk edging at his lips, “Am I wrong?”
She ignores the way her cheeks flair with warmth. “I’m not opposed to it, but it’s not the only thing I read.”
“Sure,” he laughs. She rolls her eyes before pointing to a house down at the end of the road.
“I’m right over there.”
Harry nods and pulls up in front of it. The snow is only worse on the residential streets, likely because there haven’t been many cars going through to clear the roads. She nibbles on her lip as she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look at him.
“Thank you for the ride.” she says softly.
“Of course.”
They stare at each other for a beat before Y/N tears her gaze away from him. She glances out through the front window, watching momentarily as snowflakes continue to beat down on the exterior of his car.
“It’s not safe,” she mumbles breathily, facing him again. “You shouldn’t drive in this.”
He swallows. He knows what he should say: No, it’s okay. I should go home. We said we’d wait, remember?
But he doesn’t want to. Not when she’s dangling alone time, off campus, right in front of his face. He can’t resist her — he doesn’t want to resist her.
“Can I come inside, then?”
. . .
Y/N’s house is everything Harry would have expected it to be.
She has two huge bookshelves that are overflowing with worn novels, Post-It’s and folded-down pages sticking out of nearly every page. She has plants and candles, cuddly blankets thrown askew over her couch, and a sink filled with half-consumed cups of tea. There are framed pictures and Polaroids tacked up on her fridge of people Harry assumes are her friends and family. He smiles gently as he passes by an image of her wedged between two older people who have some of her same features. It’s all very her, which means it’s all entirely too comforting.
“Do you want something to drink?” Y/N asks, nibbling on her bottom lip as she glances up at the man before her. It’s an unusual sight; one that makes her feel like she has to blink a few times to ensure she isn’t dreaming.
“Not unless you’re willing me to make my ‘stupid black coffee’, as you affectionately referred to it in the car.”
Y/N blushes, “I don’t have any coffee here, but I can make you tea. Or hot chocolate.”
“Tea is good, sweetheart.”
The flush only deepens at the pet name. He’s not sure where it comes from — maybe easing into a relationship-type dynamic is easier than he thought, especially considering he’s been pushing it down since their kiss. He watches as she turns to face the kitchen counter, occupying herself with turning the kettle on and retrieving two tea bags and mugs. He wants nothing more than to hug her from behind, pressing his fingertips into her hips to squeeze them teasingly. To dip his head to the crook of her neck and press kisses along her delicate skin. He swallows and adjusts his trousers, willing the thickening erection tucked underneath to go away.
“How do you want it?” she asks, glancing behind her to look at him.
He coughs. “Sorry? How do I want what?”
“Your tea,” Y/N replies slowly, a small smile on her lips, “How do you want your tea, Harry?”
“Oh— um, however you take it is fine.”
She nods and busies herself with filling the mugs up with the boiling water. Once she’s finished, she slowly hands him the steaming cup. He smiles in gratitude, allowing their fingers to brush against one another in the pass-off.
“By the way,” she says lowly, blinking at him, “You’re doing a shit job of hiding your boner.”
Her eyes crinkle in a smirk as she lifts the mug to take a sip of the warm liquid. Harry’s cheeks instantly warm and he stutters over his words, attempting to force out an apology. She lets him scramble for a moment before reaching out to curl her fingers over his wrist with a smile.
“I’m just teasing you. I hope you know I don’t care.”
He huffs, setting his cup down on the dining room table, “Yeah, but I’m the one who told you we have to wait. And now I’m standing in your kitchen, getting hard over you making me tea.”
She giggles. “I consider that a compliment, to be honest.”
“I’m sure you do,” he grumbles, “You make me feel like a doped up, lovesick teenager.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” he scoffs, “Everything you do does something to me. Even if you don’t mean it. It’s ridiculous.”
“What do you mean?”
He sends her a knowing look and she grins.
“You know what I mean, Y/N.”
“You know I’m not good at reading between the lines, Harry.”
He sighs. “You turn me on. Even by doing the stupidest shit— knowing more about me in certain subjects, wearing those cute little skirts… it all drives me insane. I’ve been trying to keep it together, but I can’t.”
“Then don’t,” she replies almost instantly, placing her mug on the table next to his, “I don’t want to wait, Harry. I feel… I feel so stupidly desperate for you. And I want this— I want you.”
“I know, but—”
“But in any other context, if we didn’t meet this way, there wouldn’t be an issue,” she points out stubbornly, “If we had come back to mine after a date, we’d already be upstairs with our clothes off.”
He can’t help the way his cock jumps at her words and he mentally groans. He wants to yell into one of those cute throw pillows on her couch, or maybe lay face down on the fluffy carpet in her hallway.
“Listen, I’m sorry if I’m crossing boundaries, we can just watch TV or something—”
“Stop,” he cuts her off with a shake of his head. “Can we just… Can I just kiss you again? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
Y/N blinks owlishly. Surprise is clear on her face, but it doesn’t stop her from nodding her head. As corny as it sounds — and Y/N knows it’s corny — it feels like magnets being pulled together. It’s not a moment longer before Harry’s palm is pressed gently against her cheek, his lips brushing up against hers. She’s nearly salivating at the thought of closing the gap between them and yet, at the same time, her brain is melting with lust.
This kiss, unlike their first, is riddled with want. It’s hurried and sloppy, teeth clashing and tongues dipping into each other’s mouth. Harry’s hand slips from her cheek and down to the back of her neck, giving it a small, testing squeeze. She presses her chest impossibly closer to his, eyelashes flittering at the warmth radiating from the button-down he wears. She’s desperate to feel him, to eliminate any boundaries or distances between them — for the first time, she’s sick of playing games.
“Upstairs,” she pants out through swollen lips. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth and pulls playfully, allowing it to snap back in place, “Take me upstairs, please.”
He swallows and her eyes find his Adam’s apple, nervousness settling in her chest. He gives her neck another squeeze.
“Are you sure?” he breathes. She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck and presses a gentle kiss to his lips.
“If you’ll have me, I’m yours, Harry.”
“You’ve always been mine,” he mutters with his forehead against hers, “Show me the way, sweetheart.”
She grabs his hand in hers and lightly tugs him out of the kitchen. If she’s being honest, she’s fantasized of this moment for months now. She was never sure of how it would happen (the logistics never mattered in her daydreams), but having him here, standing in her bedroom, feels like some kind of joke her mind conjured up.
But when he lays her back against the mattress, elbows digging into the soft tufts of her bedding, it feels a little like a hazy fantasy.
When he parts her thighs and kneels down between them, pressing a smattering of kisses along her neck as his hands push the fabric of her thick sweater up, her labored breathing is the only anchor she has in reality.
And when he finds himself between her thighs, tugging her black tights down to reveal a sodden pair of underwear, a hiss sounding out from her mouth when he bares her center to the cool air of her bedroom, things begin to feel very, very serious.
“Is this okay?” he asks huskily. He’s since moved down to kneeling on the carpet of her room, his large palms parting the insides of her thighs. Every single move he makes drives her insane.
“Yes,” she breathes, fingers gripping the blanket beneath her.
He’s less calculated now that he’s received her consent. She instantly mewls the second he puts his mouth over her, licking through the wet fabric of her underwear. Her eyes roll back just from the muffled sensation, especially when he allows a low moan to vibrate from his chest.
“Need more,” he mutters against the soft skin of his thigh as he pulls the material to the side. He inhales sharply at the sight of how wet she is, his fingertip gently tracing over the tip of her swollen clit. “You were hiding all this from me for months.”
He states it as if it’s a fact — like she’d been doing it intentionally, when all she’s been doing is dreaming of the day he’d finally be the one to break. Through a shaky swallow, she parts her lips.
“Didn’t mean it,” she murmurs, sitting up slightly to look down at him. It’s a heavenly vision — the image of the professor she’s been crushing on, on his knees for her in her bedroom. He sends a smirk her way as if he can read her thoughts (and maybe he can, she’s truly not sure anymore), and surges forward to dip his tongue through her folds, licking up the heady arousal dripping from her hole. It makes her gasp and reach down to grab his hair, a tight fistful of locks in her hand.
“Doubt it,” he says into her core. His fingertip continues tracing tight circles into her clit as he begins to flex his tongue inside of her, and Y/N’s back is arching against the expanse of her mattress from the wet, intoxicating sensations of it all. It’s nearly too overwhelming for her, especially given the sensitivity of her clit — but Harry can feel her tensing beneath his grasp, a delicious telltale sign that her peak is quickly rising.
“Harry— oh my god—”
“I know,” he coos, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers. He presses against her g-spot and she gasps, grinding her hips down against his hands, “There you go, angel girl, cum on my fingers. That’s it, good girl.”
If his hands weren’t currently occupied, one would undoubtedly be wrapped around his length right now, twisting and pumping until he emptied himself to the sight of Y/N’s coming, pulsating pussy. It's better than any daydream he ever could have thought of — her moans are beautiful and whimpery, her body warm and pliant beneath his touch as she comes down. Sensitivity immediately takes over and she gently bats his hands away, panting out loudly from above.
“Alright?” He asks softly, placing a light kiss to her thigh. He hears her swallow loudly.
“Jelly,” she mumbles, “Limbs are jelly.”
That makes him chuckle as he sits back up on his knees. He hovers over the length of her body and smiles at her fucked out expression.
“You’re pretty when you come.” He says before leaning down to peck her lips.
“Yeah?” She asks teasingly, “Show me what you look like?”
Harry stills but she nips at his bottom lip playfully, “You didn’t cum in your pants just from eating me out, did you?”
“Got pretty close to it.” He confesses, eyes falling shut as she continues pressing kisses to his jawline and down to his neck.
She hums at the admittance as her hands rake down his chest, “Do you wanna fuck me?”
“Whatever you want,” he swallows, the answer sounding far more submissive out loud than he’d intentioned, “Fine with… I’m fine with whatever.”
“I want you to fuck me.” She says, looking up at him. “Is that okay?”
“That’s perfectly okay.”
Y/N grins and begins to make quick work of shedding his layers of clothes. His button-down is the first to go, followed by his trousers and belt. Once he’s down to his briefs, she gently hints at wanting to climb on top. He has no reservations with that so he helps her straddle his thighs, watching as her eyes peer down at his covered length.
“You look big.” She admits.
He’s not sure if it’s meant to be a compliment or a nervous comment, so he silently issues a small squeeze to her hip.
“Seriously,” she continues with a frown. “Other girls have taken you no problem?”
This makes him laugh. “Generally, yeah.”
“I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”
Harry smirks. “This isn’t your way of telling me you’re a virgin, right?”
“No!” She exclaims theatrically, and that only amplifies his laughter. “I’m just… I’m nervous! You look really big Harry, seriously.”
“Take me out then,” he instructs lowly and the tone of his voice zips straight to Y/N’s center, “I promise, you’re freaking yourself out over nothing.”
She grumbles as he pulls his underwear down his legs. Harry kicks them off his ankles and she sighs as she takes him into her hand. He has to make an effort not to hiss at the feeling of it.
“Still huge,” she mutters, “My hand barely fits around you, Harry.”
“You’re making my ego insane, angel.”
She peers up at him, where his arm is tucked behind his head like he’s lounging the day away. She gives the head of his cock a small squeeze.
“Do you really think it’ll fit?”
“Yes,” he chuckles, “If not, I’ll just go down on you for an hour and by then you’ll be open and wet enough.”
“Shut up,” she mumbles, the thought of him spending an hour of his time between her thighs almost being too much to fathom. “‘M gonna try to put you in.”
“It’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just breathe and take your time. We can do a different position—“
“No,” she quickly shakes her head. “Wanna ride you. This is how I envisioned it.”
Harry’s eyebrow quirks at that but his curiosity is quickly replaced by pleasure when she hovers her hips over his length. The warmth from her previous orgasm is radiating off of her and he breathes out sharply when she pushes the tip in, her fingertips covering the sight. Harry reaches out to move them. “Need to see,” he grunts.
Her jaw drops open as she slowly lowers onto him. Neither of them speak — it’s all entirely too consuming; her getting filled to the brim and him being surrounded by the tightest heat he’s ever felt. When she finally sinks down to his pelvic bone, her eyelashes flutter.
“Can you move?” He asks through a slightly clenched jaw, “Or— do you need me to—“
“I can do it.” She replies as she steadily attempts to move her hips up. “Oh, that’s a lot.”
“Too much?”
She shakes her head, “It’s good. Is it good?”
“It’s amazing.” He breaths out, gritting his teeth as she moves up and down.
With his reassurance under her belt, it’s easier for her to find a bit of rhythm, even if she has to place her hands down on his chest for stability. He happily places his own palms on top of them, curling his fingers around her wrists to help her.
“There you go,” he encourages, leaning his head back against the pillow as he watches her. “You look so beautiful, holy shit.”
She moans when she finally figures out a pace that hits that soft spot inside of her, eyelashes fluttering from the constant pressure. Harry moves his hands down to her hips to assist in the maneuvers, but mainly because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get sick of seeing his touch on her skin. She swallows harshly when she lifts a hand to coax at her swollen clit, a wet gasp sounding from her lips. Harry’s gaze lifts from where they’re connected to see widened eyes.
“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He asks in immediate panic.
She nods quickly and reaches out to grab his hand and place it over his stomach.
He thinks he may pass out.
Beneath the soft, dimpled skin of her stomach, he can feel his length bulging in her tummy. If he looks close enough, he can see the faint outline. It takes everything in him not to snap.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters as she resumes her pace of bouncing on his cock.
“Told you you were— oh— big,” she says stubbornly, and if he wasn’t so overwhelmed with the current state of her body, he probably would have had a comeback. But right now, all he can focus on is not blowing his load inside her.
“Need you to come,” he grunts. She nods eagerly like a puppy and he smirks when her fingers return to her clit, rubbing tight circles. “Need you to come so I can paint that pretty pussy, yeah?”
“Yes,” she mewls desperately. Her movements get jerkier and sloppier, but Harry has no problem meeting her hips. He thrusts up inside of her to hopefully reach the same spot, though his worry is quickly wiped away when he feels her muscles contract, her face twisting beautifully.
He can barely help her through her orgasm before he’s pushing her into her side. He’s no longer inside and his hand has switched to keeping her thigh up as he pumps himself, groaning at the sticky mess between them.
“Wanna feel it,” she whimpers almost pathetically, “Please Professor Styles, cum all over my pussy.”
That’s all he needs before he’s bursting at the seams, ropes of thick, white cum covering her. He’s a groaning mess and he doesn’t even notice that she’s running her hand through his hair, playing with it gently, until he has nothing left to give. With a final whimper, he lays back against her bed, completely spent.
When they’ve both caught their breath, Harry turns back onto his side to face her.
“You alright?” he asks softly. He’s nervous to reach out and thumb at her cheek or press a kiss to her hand. For some reason, he feels like the situation is too delicate right now and he’s at risk of fucking it all up.
Y/N hums, “Mhm. Are you?”
“I am.” he answers with a thick swallow. “Is it okay if I hold you?”
“Please.”
His heart jumps and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his chest. He leans down and kisses her hair.
They sit in the silence for a bit, Y/N finding comfort in Harry’s constant breathing, the sound of his heartbeat.
And then: “So you envisioned this?”
She bites at the smile on her lips before she bats at his pecs, “Shut up. I know you did too.”
Harry has no problem admitting that she’s right.
#writing#english profrry#harry styles#harry styles writing#harry styles fic#harry styles fluff#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles blurb#harry styles imagine#harry styles one direction#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles x reader#harry styles x oc#harry styles x y/n#harry styles angst#harry styles smut#harry styles au#harry styles fic rec#harry styles rec#one direction
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bartender!harry x you
your favorite bartender names a drink for you, and you're almost convinced its the end of the world, until your heart leads you back to him.
featuring: soft!harry, an apology, and a cat named Sylvester.
tw: 18+!!, mentions drinking, angst, lots and lots of fluff, soft smut, small itty bitty breeding kink if u squint really hard.
wc: 5k
marigold
A typical Saturday night for you looked like this:
One too many whiskey shots, karaoke with your friends, and passed out on the way home in the uber someone ordered.
This Saturday wasn’t any different so far.
You had just gotten off the stage, out of breath from singing Strawberry Wine a little too loudly with your friends. You wove your way through crowds of sweaty bodies and made your way to the bar in the back.
And there he was. Your favorite person on earth.
The bartender.
It wasn’t because he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life, or the fact that he listened to you whenever you were spiraling wistfully through your drunken thoughts.
It mostly just came down to the fact that he made really good drinks.
Harry knew exactly how you liked your whiskey, at what point in the night you’d want a margarita to cool off with (usually after the karaoke), and he knew when to cut you off before you regretted it the next morning.
So when you stumbled over to the bar looking for his signature smirk, he was already sliding the glass across the lacquered surface, placing a lime on the rim once you settled yourself on the barstool across from him. He went back to washing glasses, biceps flexing and relaxing between motions under the sleeves of his black tee as you sip on your drink.
He watches you out of the corner of his eye, keeping you within earshot while some prick named Garret flirts with you. It almost hurt his feelings when he didn’t hear you rejecting his embarrassingly cheesy advances. He knew he could treat you better than any other asshole in this place, so it always surprised him when you would leave with one of them. He just wanted you to be safe, and he knew that the men that frequented his bar weren’t some of the finest to grace your presence. He would try his hand at flirting with you, tell you how nice you looked, and use his pick up lines that worked with so many others.
But they never worked on you...or so he thought.
You were an enigma to him, a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.
“Leave me alone, Garret. I’m not leaving with you tonight.” He heard you mumble, however, Garret was persistent. He glances over out of the corner of his eye and sees that Garret has you cornered in your seat, his arm around the back of your chair and the other steadied on the bar as he leaned into you. You were trying to create space, but he was practically pushing you up against the wall and Harry didn’t like that. He threw the towel over his shoulder and turned to face the situation.
“Garret, she said she wasn’t leaving with you. I suggest you get lost, unless you want to be barred from my establishment.” He says calmly, but firm. He leans his weight into his own arms placed on the bar, muscles flexing and veins popping, cocking an eyebrow upwards as he watches Garret intently. Harry's eyes never leave Garret as his flick between the two of you. He mumbles expletives under his breath before pushing from the bar and stumbling away. Harry hears you breathe out a sigh you had been holding in and when his eyes meet yours you smile.
“Thanks. He’s relentless.” You pause. “Sometimes I go home with him so he’ll just leave me alone.” You confess and he’s never heard you say anything like this before, he's not even sure you understood what you implied. Instead of replying immediately, he listens. Listens to you ramble about Garret and every other guy that attempts to win you over with their drunken pick up lines. He was scrubbing a glass, lost in his thoughts, thinking how it would look to have you upstairs in his apartment, dancing around the kitchen with each other when you clear your throat, plucking him from his daydreams.
“I asked you a question, Har.” You giggle as you sip through the straw in your glass.
“Sorry, flower. I was a little distracted.” He peeks over, smirking. “What did you ask?”
“I asked if there was anyone special in your life.” Curiosity getting the better of you, because he always listens to what you have to say and you're tired of talking about yourself. He'd never talked about a girlfriend before and you're not sure how someone as beautiful as him could be single.
“If you count my cat, Sylvester. Otherwise, no.” He informs you and you widen your eyes.
“You have a cat?” Your words slur together in disbelief and he nods.
“Does that surprise you?” He asks with a chuckle.
“Just don’t strike me as the cat type.” You pause, thoughts swirling through your head. “I want to meet him.”
“I promise you don’t. He’s a terrorist.” He jokes, laughing between his words. “I found him outside under the dumpster when he was just a baby…I haven’t known peace for a single day since.” He says in a serious tone and it makes you laugh. He brings down bottles of liquor and mixes and juices from the shelf above his head and mixes up concoctions, tasting them before pouring them out. To you, it seems like a waste. You let him go on for a while longer before you decide to interrupt.
“What exactly are you doing?”
“Just been working on a new signature to add to the menu. Can’t get the ratio quite right though.” He mutters and you watch as his hands move expertly around the bottles, mixing exact ratios without having to measure them out.
You chat for a while longer, enjoying his company until your friends find you and they’re ready to leave. You tell him goodbye and he watches you until you disappear out the door, wishing he had the guts to tell you how he feels outright instead of dancing around the topic, and how he only has eyes for you every time you come in here.
You’re the sole reason why he works on Saturdays.
He’ll never forget the first time he saw you at his bar. He was upstairs in his apartment reading when he looked at the clock and noticed it was nearing closing time, an hour or so left until the straggling patrons would be forced out and he knew that last-call had already been announced. He went down to see if the bartender working needed help with anything before he turned in for the night, and when he stepped in he saw you laughing with your friends at a high top table.
It was over for him then.
He hung around for the next hour, nursing a draft in a glass he poured himself and fighting the sleep begging to take over his body. Your group wasn’t paying attention when all the lights came on, brightening the dimmed room, you didn’t notice you were the last ones here and if he was waiting for an excuse to talk to you…that was it. He made his way to you, weaving through chairs and tables and when you looked at him, finally, he almost lost the words he wanted to say. Stuttering over them, he felt embarrassed as you smiled at him and you and your friends hopped from your stools and left, but not before he mustered the courage to ask you if you were coming back anytime soon and you nodded, informing him that you and your friends had been coming every Saturday for a few months now, his bar quickly had become their favorite spot. He felt guilty that he hadn’t paid attention before, but he made sure he was the one behind the bar every Saturday since then.
Now, here you were. Walking out laughing with your friends, like you did every Saturday, without a second look back at him…even though he willed it to happen every time.
Yet, he couldn’t wait until next week to do it over again.
Next Saturday comes and it’s unfamiliar territory for you this time. It was your turn to be the designated driver, you and your friends trying not to pay excessive amounts for rideshares anymore. While your friends make their way to a table, you detour to the bar and when your eyes meet Harry's, his hardened expression turns to something lighter as you approach. He’s smiling, a toothy grin that has you biting the inside of your cheek and looking at the floor.
Maybe it was the lighting…or maybe it was the idea of him. You had never really seen him while you were in a sober mindset and this was a different dynamic. He knew the drunk you, the one who was confident and not afraid of anything.
Truth be told, you were a little nervous to talk to him. He always pushed shots towards you when you walked in, and you were grateful for the confidence boost it gave you because otherwise you didn’t think you’d even approach him.
But it’s hard to remind yourself that you don’t need to be nervous, it’s just Harry.
“There’s my flower.” He greets you with the nickname he penned for you after a few weeks of chatting and getting to know you. He pushes the shot towards you but you shake your head as you hop up onto the bar stool and he cocks an eyebrow at you, confused at your refusal. “Are you sick? Do I need to take you to the ER?” He jokes and you laugh.
“No, actually. I’m just taking on the role of designated driver tonight.” You rest your chin in your hand and sigh. He replaces the whiskey with a glass of ice water feigning hesitation, mouthing a “sorry” as he moves down the bar to take other orders.
He’s busy for a while so you sit and watch him sling drinks and pour drafts. He’s comfortable, he’s confident, and you feel a sense of longing for him, willing him to come back over and talk with you…and you wonder why you’d never accepted his advances before. It could be that you were scared, not thinking he was serious and that he was just being a friendly bartender. You were always drunk and the alcohol clouded your judgment slightly.
But you always knew when he was flirting. He would clear your tab, and you would walk out paying literally nothing more often than not. He wouldn’t even let you tip him because he refused to take your money and he insisted that he made enough.
As if he could read your mind, he came back over and was breathing heavily out of breath from trying to keep up, the amount of people in the bar nearing capacity. Still, he smiles at you and as he’s catching his composure he grabs bottles from the shelf above him.
“Remember that drink I was making last week?” He asks and you search your memory to pinpoint the moment he was talking about. You faintly recall him mixing drinks and tasting them before dumping them down the drain, so you nod. “I think I finally got it right.” He says while pouring the concoction, placing it in your view once it was complete, then he perches an orange on the rim and slides it towards you.
“I said I wasn’t drinking.” You joke, knowing a sip won't be enough to have you feeling any effects, bringing the glass up to your nose and sniffing, the scent of citrus and schnapps filling your nostrils and when you sip, there’s a hint of something floral that you can’t quite place. It’s perfectly layered, the orange fading into yellow seamlessly like a sunrise left unblemished in a cloudless sky, shimmering just slightly in the low lit atmosphere.
And it’s so good.
“Do you like it?” He asks, waiting for your response and shifting his weight nervously. He needed it to be perfect for you…because it was for you. You nod, swallowing and meeting his eyes.
“It’s delicious. What are you calling it?” You ask and the corner of his mouth pulls up in a half grin.
“I think I’m going to call it a Marigold Sunrise.” He says, the volume of his voice almost getting lost in the chatter around you both and you could’ve sworn you misheard him.
“I’m sorry?” You almost choke, sputtering over your words. “Marigold?”
“Yeah, actually. I remember one night you told me they were your favorite. I added the floral notes, I think that’s what it was missing. It's yours. I made it for you.”
Your head spins momentarily at his words. He remembered? You were sure that conversation happened over a year ago. You stare at him, blinking with a blank expression painted over your face. You don’t know how to react. It’s not a big deal, it’s just a drink.
Except your mind convinces you this makes things more complicated than they need to be. He’s just the bartender at the bar you frequent, this meant you were going to have to find somewhere else to go, because you couldn’t actually spend your time here anymore knowing he probably expects you to give him something in return.
But he’s not just a bartender. He’s Harry. The reason why you come here. The reason why your friends tease you incessantly on the way home every Saturday…because you’re always watching him when he isn’t looking, slotting yourself behind the bar with him in your doe-eyed daydreams. Daydreams you thought would never come to fruition.
“Harry, this is…too much.” The words tumble from your lips before you really think about them. His brows pull together, confusion lacing his eyes.
“What? I thought—”
“Whatever you thought, save it. I don’t want this. I didn’t ask for this.” Your tone is harsher than you wanted it to be. You push the glass away and gather your things, walking away from him without so much as a glance back. You find your friends, apologizing for ruining their fun but that you would take them somewhere else, wanting to be anywhere but here.
Harry stands behind the bar, dumbfounded and lost on what he did wrong. He watches you leave, holding the door for your friends. Your head moves slightly, and he can just make out the outline of your profile. He thinks you’re going to look back at him, come back and explain to him what he did to make you react this way.
But you don’t.
This time he doesn’t know if you’ll come back.
The street was quiet and the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, blue hue taking over the dark of the night. The bar was dark except for the light left on behind the bar and the neon hanging on the walls. He might even already be in bed. After you left earlier, your friends requested a bar on the other side of town and you drove them there on autopilot, sitting at a table staring blankly at the wall, the sounds around you muffled from lack of focus on your part. When they were ready to leave, you got them home safely and aimlessly drove around with no destination in mind. You let your mind wander, and after you finally placed your feelings you found you had subconsciously made your way back to him, back to the bar. Like your heart was making your decision without you even realizing. Like it knew where you needed to be.
So you forced yourself out of the driver's seat and timidly made your way to the door. You didn’t know if he would be able to hear you, but you knocked on the glass of the front door anyway. You hug yourself around your torso, the chill of the night air making you shiver slightly. After a moment you’re about to give up, but you see him come around the corner and his eyes widen at the sight of you, his expression reading that he very much was not expecting you to show up at this time, or even at all. The bar closed at 3:00 AM and it was nearing 5 as you stood there waiting for him to open the door.
“Come in, it’s freezing out there.” He says as the barrier between you swings open, the bell above ringing in your ears. You step inside, finding reprieve in the warmth of the bar. You watch him in the afterglow of the neon. It feels out of place, being here in the early hours of the morning, neither of you having had any sleep yet and he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. You look towards the floor, fiddling with your fingers and you feel terrible that you’re keeping him from sleep, which you’re sure he’d rather be doing after the way you left him earlier.
“I’m sorry, I’m interrupting your rest. I should just go, I don’t know why I came.” You say sheepishly, gesturing a thumb towards the door and you almost turn around before he grabs your arm before you get the chance.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re here. I was almost asleep.” He yawns, stretching his arms over his head and you shake your head.
“This can wait, really. I’ll let you go back to—”
“Flower, I said it was okay. I want you here.” His eyes search yours for a moment before he looks away, towards the stairs that lead up to his apartment. “Do you want to come up? I’ll get you some water.” He nods his head behind him and you nod wordlessly, following him as he takes you to a peek inside of his personality. You stay silent as he grabs a glass from his cupboard and moves through the small kitchen. You allow your eyes to wander around his space, and it’s not anything like you were expecting. You would never think a bar owner lives here, and if you had to describe it, it would be something like a masculine dark academia with a modern twist throughout the interior. He sits the glass in front of you before leaning against the opposite counter and you feel your nerves bubble in your throat when you remember why you’re here.
“Harry…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run away like that earlier. I really am flattered that you made your new signature something for me.” You pause, collecting your thoughts for a second before speaking again. “I’ve just never had anyone make anything for me before, I’ve never had some grand gesture done for me.” You motion with your hands, ultimately letting them fall against your lap again. “I know it sounds silly, and that might not be grand to any normal person, but I got scared…” Trailing off, you look down at your hands in your lap. “I don’t even know why I got scared. I really like you, and I don’t want to scare you away.”
The silence is deafening, the clock ticking on the wall counting the seconds as dawn creeps into the sky. You think he isn’t going to say anything.
Then he clears his throat.
“You could never scare me away.” You force your eyes to meet his. He comes around the counter, closing the space between you slightly. He stands in front of you, searching your face for anything he can find, as if he’s memorizing every freckle, the dip of your nose, the pink of your lips, everything he never wants to forget. “I want you…all of you. Everything you’re afraid of. Every good, every bad, everything in between. I want it all.” He steps forward and takes your hands between his, bringing them to his lips and kissing over your palm once. Resting his cheek against it, you cup his face, tilting your head slightly and biting the inside of your lip to keep your emotions at bay.
You’re both silent for a beat, conveying feelings through subtle glances ghosting over each other's features. You’d never seen him this close before.
He’s right here.
And he’s yours.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper and you nod once, slightly sucking in a breath, preparing for him to surge forward. He shocks you when he doesn’t.
His touch is gentle, featherlight over your jawline and your exhale is shaky, nervous like you’ve never been kissed before.
Your mind wants to wander…wants to get lost down the memory lane of bad lovers and all the times your subconscious thought of him, how it manifested him in your dreams.
His lips brush over yours and pull you from your thoughts. His hand wraps around the back of your neck, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck and he pulls you closer. His tongue darting out to wet his lips before he presses them to yours…and you melt, sighing against him as you fist his shirt. He was hesitant, like he was testing your boundaries.
You wanted him to know you were all in.
He pulls away just far enough to meet your eyes and if he were being honest, he thinks you’ll run from him again.
You’re thinking how the kiss didn’t last nearly long enough.
“Kiss me again. Please.” You whisper, and he doesn’t hesitate, bringing his lips back to yours like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing. This kiss is more than the first.
More desire…more eagerness…more everything.
His hands find your hips and pull you closer to him, dancing lightly under the hem of your shirt and your skin burns under his touch as you part your thighs and he slots himself between them. Your arms link around the back of his neck, pulling him closer and arching against him. His hands splayed across your back, feeling his want for you growing between your bodies and it makes your belly flip. Your hands drop from his shoulders, running over the expanse of his biceps and mapping their way to his waistline, dipping below the band of his sweats and palming over the fabric of his briefs eliciting a groan that transfers from his mouth to yours. He pulls your wrists from his body and pulls away from your lips, looking at you with dark eyes and his chest rapidly rising and falling trying to catch his breath.
“We don’t have to—I don’t expect you to sleep with me. I hope you know that I’m not just doing this to get myself off.” He places your hands against his chest, holding them there. “I meant it when I said I want all of you.”
“I know. I want all of you, too.” You whisper and he smiles. “I just want to show you how much.” You fist his shirt again and pull him back down to you. “Please let me.” You mutter against his lips, pecking lightly and he nods. He tugs at your hand, pulling you to a stance from your place at the counter and he leads you into his room.
Once there, he pushes you gently onto the bed and climbs over you planting kisses over the sensitive skin in the crook of your neck pulling a whimper from your mouth and he travels lower. He pushes your shirt up and runs his nose along the skin of your stomach leaving goosebumps in its path before you pull it over your head and throw it across the room. He smiles against you, crawling up and finding your face while peppering small kisses over your cheeks and the tip of your nose. His forehead meets yours and your eyes flutter closed.
“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamed of having you like this, flower.” He mumbles and you hum, a dopey smile playing on your lips.
His fingers caper down your torso, finding the button of your jeans and flicking it open with a certain expertise. You help him push them off your waist while your lips meet his once more, the naturally sweet taste of his tongue like candy on yours is something you would crave for the rest of your life. He disrobes his own clothes, barely breaking from your lips to pull his shirt over his head and tossing it towards the same general area as yours.
He spreads you open with his fingers, trailing a digit through your arousal and you shudder at his gentle touch. He teases your aching hole, petting over it continuously, drawing a whine from your throat.
“Tell me what you want, angel.” His voice is low, gravelly in the back of his throat. “Already know, just need to hear you say it.”
“You. Just need to feel you.” The intonation in your voice is nothing short of begging, and he’s not wasting time. He doesn’t want to play, doesn’t want to tease any more than he already has—barely has. He’s just as impatient as you are, fisting his cock and pumping once…twice before he drags the tip through to collect you all over him.
The feel of the most intimate part of him against you sends fireworks bursting through your belly. He lines up, pushing himself in and you both release a sigh, something just felt like it was falling into place. Like it was always supposed to be this way.
He halts when he’s fully in, pausing briefly to let you adjust to the stretch. Your hands grip around his biceps, indenting the muscle beneath his skin and he sets his pace…slow and sensual. You can feel it all, a fire igniting in your heart at every grunt and every groan he doesn’t hold back from you. You let your hands wander down the length of his torso, wrapping around his back and leaving the shapes of crescents in his skin. The sensation forces him to drop his head into your chest, licking and kissing down the valley between your tits as you arch your back, wanting him impossibly closer than he already is.
His pace picks up, his hips meeting yours with more fervor than before. Your eyes flutter closed again and he supports his weight above you on one arm. His movements never falter as he wraps one hand around the back of your neck and forces your mouth on his, teeth clashing and his tongue slips in. He moans into your mouth, the sound so sinful that you clench around him.
“Fuck, if you keep squeezing me like that m’not gonna last.” He mutters with a shaky breath. You smirk, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and sucking lightly before letting the plump skin bounce back into place. He chuckles and you push his sweaty curls away from his forehead. You pull him down to you, your mouth just over his ear and you taste the saltiness on his skin as you lick a path up his neck and he swears under his breath.
“Want you to cum for me, Har. Please. Need to feel it. Need you to fill me.” You whine into his ear and he mutters something incoherent.
“Need you to first, flower.” He pants through gritted teeth. His thrusts become hurried. He’s hitting every spot that you need him to, pulling his cock all the way out to the tip before sliding back into you in a way that has you so close, your resolve dancing on the thinnest of tightropes. He brings his hand to his mouth, spitting on his fingers before slotting it between the two of you, petting slow circles over your clit, and you tumble over.
“I’m gonna cum.” You say, your voice fading into a whimper when you feel the familiar burst of pleasure dance down your spine straight to your core. Your walls flutter around him, willing for him to spill inside of you. The stimulation sends him falling from his own cliff, his hips stutter before you feel his cock twitching and the warmth of him painting you and he drops his forehead to your collarbone, riding out his high slowly.
The both of you lay there, catching breaths for a moment while you run your fingers through his hair and down his back and back up again. Your thighs were still wrapped around him, but you let them fall to the bed and he hums as he slides out, laying beside you and tangling his fingers with yours. You turn towards him and smile
Wordlessly, you revel in each other's presence. He traces your jawline with the back of his hand, you poke his cheek with your finger and he laughs. He stands, pulling you with him into the bathroom. He starts the shower, pulling you to his chest and kissing you lazily while the water heats up.
In the shower, he spoils you a bit, washing your hair for you while you lean into his touch, your back pressing against him as he works his fingers on your scalp deliciously. He takes special care of washing over your skin with sudsy soap and if you weren’t so tired you probably would’ve entertained him with round 2 in the shower. Instead, when he rinses you off he sends you on your way and informs you what drawer he keeps his shirts in while he cleans himself.
Clad in an old, washed-out band shirt, you flop onto his bed and under the covers, exhaustion quickly setting in. You hear the water shut off, but not before you feel the mattress sink from some other presence in the room. Your eyes open and see who must be Sylvester coming closer to you and you grin, extending your hand to him and he sniffs before nudging his head against your fingers. He makes a spot beside you, curling his tail around himself as Harry steps from the bathroom.
He dresses himself and joins you, a look of confusion passing over his face in the orange glow of the rising sun filtering in through the window. You mirror it back to him and he laughs.
“He doesn’t even do that with me.” He informs you, gesturing to Sylvester fast asleep by your legs and you smile tiredly. “Now you really can’t leave.” He whispers, planting a kiss to your forehead before finding his own comfort under the duvet.
And lucky for Sylvester, you didn’t plan on going anywhere.
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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
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pairings: boyfriend!mafia!Harry x fem!reader
word count: 3.2k
summary: Harry's known for being ruthless in the way he does his job, a day out with his girlfriend takes a horrible turn.
content warnings. IMPORTANT: hurt no comfort. blood, guns, knifes, and death. please read with caution
authors note: this has to be the darkest story i've written and i just want to say please read with caution, don't read if you are uncomfortable with any of the warning written above. minors please don't interact. this may or may not have a second part following the aftermath.
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It wasn’t supposed to end this way.
Everything seems to go wrong one after another and Harry blames himself. If he hadn’t been so reckless, had been paying more attention he would’ve seen it coming. He figured they’d come for him eventually, there’s no denying that part. He had enemies, there’s no doubt about that. It just comes with the job, or the title he would say. Being a head boss of his huge mafia crew, he’s bound to have enemies because of the fact that he’s relentless in his ways.
He doesn’t waste time with questions that most people ask before killing someone, he gathers the information beforehand and watches them before making his move. He’s mean in his acts, likes to torture them and prolong the pain before quickly putting them out of the misery (he just doesn’t like to hear their screams.) He’ll beat them and laugh while doing it, mocking their cries while he tortures them. He’s well known around the United States, his name sending fear through most people that hear it. No one wants to deal with him, to end up on his bad side, while other mafias will send their catch to him sometimes if one of their employees doesn't want to do it. He’s popular with the other bosses, constantly being invited to any events and to teach but he declines, it’s simply a waste of his time.
While his hard exterior scares off anyone in sight, there’s one person who broke down his walls and quite frankly is the complete opposite of him. While he’s all black and grumpy, she’s soft and sunshine-y, all bows and giggles and sweet smelling perfume. She doesn’t hang around him while he’s “Mafia Harry,” usually out shopping or baking or whatever because she can’t stand blood or seeing anyone get hurt though she understands why he does what he does. His men think he’s crazy half of the time, the amount of times they’ve walked into him smiling on the phone (when he’s not bossing his men around, barking orders over the phone or beating someone to a pulp) or chuckling to himself at certain points of the day is concerning to them.
He doesn’t talk about his personal life to them aside from his closest man on the team, EJ who has heard bits and pieces about Harry’s girlfriend, his other men don’t get paid to listen to him gush on and on about the girl of his dreams. They whisper amongst themselves about how he’s smoked too much or needs to cut back on drinking and drugs and whatever else he does, they think it’s all gone to his head. None of them bring it up to him though, they know better than to do so. After all, he is the one that signs their checks and he treats them well enough that they don’t want to mess up any chances of keeping their job. They just don’t understand how their grumpy and uncaring boss can be so smiley and happy, especially before he has to take care of someone.
He keeps her away from his job for a reason, there’s no need for anyone to see her, to know that he does in fact have a weakness. He doesn’t want to take a chance of a mole coming in and reporting to their boss about her. His main focus is protecting her and making her happy, always having her sporting his favorite smile. Besides, she’s too pretty to be around all the gruff men and blood and screams. He doesn’t want to tarnish her in any way, he loves her just the way she is and he refuses to be the one to ruin her view of the world. He doesn’t want her to end up like him, all grumpy and somewhat pessimistic of the world and always on the edge whenever he leaves the house. He wants her to keep laughing and cooing at cute animals they pass by, wants her to feel comfortable enough with him to always be able to shut her brain off and just follow him aimlessly.
He’s a busy man, constantly having to answer phone calls and texts and emails and double checking surveillance videos to make sure they have the right guy, but he tries his best to leave work at the door when it’s just the two of them. He wants to be able to just enjoy the time together and not have to worry about who he needs to find next, wants to be able to look at her smiling and be content with that. He wants to enjoy their time together, doesn’t want to be distracted with his work duties and the constant sound of his phone dinging.
They normally would just hang out at the house, watching whatever tv show either of them were interested in or just lounging around. That’s one of the main things that he loves about her is that she’s content with just existing with him, his past partner wanted to go out all of the time and party. He didn’t necessarily mind it, but he prefers to just unwind and relax on his off days; he just wanted to have a sense of normalcy, the peace amidst his chaos and his storms. That’s what happened when he met her. It was a cute little meeting that Harry still brings up quite frequently and is one of Y/N’s favorite memories of them.
Harry was having a bad day, it all seemed to go wrong. While he’s always grumpy, he woke up especially grumpy that morning and of course he tried his best to not take it out on his employees, but of course still ended up being overly sarcastic with them, grumbling about whatever they did that upset him so he decided to make a trip to just breathe. He grabbed his jacket, hat and sunglasses and quickly let EJ know he’s leaving and he’s in charge for the meantime. He walked for what seemed like hours before he landed on a small coffee shop, a small run down looking building with plants in almost every corner and empty space. He figures this might help with his grumpy mood so he walks inside, the smell of coffee and different pastries fill his nose immediately, the sound of the different conversations happening all at once and the soft piano music coming from the speakers fill the space and his ears.
He ordered a drink out of his normal, one that was recommended by EJ’s girlfriend actually, a tall white chocolate mocha with just a drizzle of caramel and it has to be iced. Those were her words exactly, it won’t taste as good if he doesn’t order it exactly how she says it. The lady looked at him weird, a concerned glance that only says she knows how to do her job so she’d appreciate it if he didn’t doubt her abilities. He only gives her a nasty glare in return, one that flusters her so she walks away mumbling to herself as she starts making the order. He then walks to one of the nearby walls, leaning against it as his eyes scan the room and taking in the different personalities, mainly doing this to be aware of who else in the room with him (as if anyone who’s in the mafia would be ordering coffee, let alone from the same cheap looking building that he’s in,) but still just in case.
Not even a couple minutes later, his order is being called out and he walks up to the register once more, hoping this will help his grumpy mood. He wasn’t paying as much attention as he should’ve been though, otherwise he would’ve known that this wasn’t his order actually. As he went to grab the cup of coffee, another hand reached out as well, one that was smaller and softer. Painted nails and a few rings on the fingers, and he immediately looks up with a scowl ready to tell the person off. It was his drink after all, what were they thinking? When he looked up, he was met with a soft apologetic smile and the prettiest of eyes, her hair held back with a big bow and an outfit to match. She smelt like heaven if that was a smell, sweet smelling and strong; a scent that matched her aura perfectly, although Harry wouldn’t call it her aura, he didn’t know the right word to describe it.
He couldn’t go off on her, it’d be cruel and he’s not that mean, so he just stares at her. She immediately begins to fidget with her hands and he can tell he’s intimidating her.
“I’m so so sorry! I just assumed this one was mine because I was here before you, but you can go ahead and take it!” She says through a breath, her eyes wide and face flushed. He furrowed his eyebrows at her, he doesn’t understand why she’s giving away her coffee if it’s true. He’s not gonna just take someone else’s coffee no matter his mood.
“No, no go ahead. If you were here first then I’m not gonna just take it.” He says as he pushes the cup closer to her, he can feel the unnecessary glare from the worker at the whole interaction and it only irritates him further.
“Are you sure? You seem very…um…. Grumpy and I’d hate to make your day worse.” She says as she pushes the cup towards him.
This is all very silly, the whole situation. He’s just trying to be a gentleman and she can’t grasp that. He then grabs the cup and puts it in her hand, forcing a smile to seem as if he’s friendly and not trying to hide his frustration.
“I’m serious, I don’t even know if I’ll like mine, it was a suggestion from a… friend of mine I guess. Enjoy it before it gets watery.” He says, but he doesn’t understand why he’s being so nice to her. Maybe because she’s pretty? But he doesn’t want to date her, he can’t afford to waste his time like this anymore. She ends up telling him her name and asking a couple of questions to try to make small talk and unfortunately for Harry she’s fairly easy to talk to. They talk until his drink is ready, and then some more out the door as they walk to their destinations and then she has the confidence to ask for his number, which of course (and against his better judgment) he agrees.
After that it’s pretty smooth sailing, conversations whenever they have the time, and of course a little white lie whenever she asks about what he does for work. Months later, Harry found himself asking her to be his girlfriend and of course she said yes. They usually spend their time lounging around and just existing in each other’s company, but today Y/N wanted to go for a little walk around the town. Normally Harry would be against it, especially when it’s right after he just took care of a member of a rival mafia who’s higher up on the scale and he knows he has several mad enemies looking for revenge. But Harry had thought that he’d been doing a good job hiding her from the public, having her dress as one of his men or wearing some sort of disguise after he told her the gist of what he actually does, so he doesn’t think much of it. He agrees but tells her they can only be out for half an hour, no more just to be on the safe side. She squeals excitedly before tugging on her shoes and throwing on one of his jackets and basically drags him out of their apartment.
She shows him a couple of her favorite spots in town and gives him her favorite orders and practically begs for him to try, he will always try anything she wants. They talk quietly, wrapped in their own little bubble of bliss and this was Harry’s biggest mistake. He’s usually very attentive whenever they’re out and about, but he allowed himself to be distracted listening to her talk. She’s excited as she talks about some outfit she wants to get for the pet they don’t have, her eyes all bright and full of excitement. The air is warm against their skin and the clouds begin to roll in, dark and menacing and this is where Harry should’ve begun to take a hint.
Things seemed too calm, aside from the storm beginning to roll in. It seemed too quiet, and then the rain began to fall. Small droplets of water cooled their skin and Y/N smiled brightly at the sky, silently thanking the universe because she always likes walking in the rain. It just always seemed so romantic to her. Harry didn’t think too much of it though he was still cautious. His eyes still scanned over the sidewalks and streets, trying to stay alert of his surroundings. He watched as Y/N tugged her jacket closer to her, a signal that she’s getting too cold but she’s always been too stubborn to let him know, she just enjoys being outside too much.
He just assumed that time would be on his side with all of it, and had enough time to somehow throw the Gallegos family off of his tracks long enough to not have to be on edge anytime he’s out. He hates it whenever he feels as if he’s putting Y/N in harm's way, hates the feeling it gives him knowing he’s the reason she can’t just walk down the street or just even exist in this world. He’s too scared of someone linking her to him and then taking her away. Y/N says she doesn’t mind all that much, this is the happiest and the most taken care of she’s been in a really long time. As long as they’re both happy and safe, then she could care less.
Harry didn’t see it coming. The breeze was picking up and the rain was coming down harder, thunder began to boom in the sky. The storm was coming, and it was coming fast. Everyone was scrambling to get indoors or to their cars and Y/N’s just smiling but still walking fast, she hates being too wet for too long. They were bumping into one another and Harry walked a beat behind her, just in case she happened to trip or anything. There was a slight commotion happening in front of them, the sound of gasps and the shuffling of feet as they were pushed to the side. Before long a man is running at them, a hood hiding his face and wearing baggy clothes. Harry still doesn’t think too much of it, maybe a burglary or he upset a store owner, but he’s still cautious. He walks closer to Y/N, his face turning mean in an attempt to deter the man from bothering them. It’s useless though, a good attempt at best but the man moves closer and Harry frowns. He wraps an arm around his girl and begins to move her onto the other side but the man is already right beside them, still moving.
He’s an arm's length away and before anyone can realize it a knife is entering Y/N’s side and she’s groaning and leaning over. Harry can’t believe it, he frowns deeply and his eyes scan over her. He picks her up and begins to make his way through the crowd to find an empty spot, to make sure they’re safe before anything else happens. There’s more gasps and murmurs around them, more than likely the bystanders either assume he did it or they’re just shocked. It’s not every day that you see blood pouring out of someone. Right before Harry can get them into an alleyway and when he clicks on his ear piece to alert EJ about what’s happening, a gunshot sounds and the bullet goes into Y/N’s head, her blood splattering over his clothes and onto his face.
He hurries into the alleyway, tears streaming down his face as he stares in disbelief.
“EJ here, what’s up boss?” EJ’s voice comes through Harry’s earpiece.
“EJ, they found me. They hurt her. I need you to get into all the security cameras on the strip and find out who did it, search for snipers as well. One Knifed her and someone else shot her,” His voice cracks on every word. He gently sets her down onto the ground near the wall, once he feels as if they’re far enough. Hidden enough by the shadows of the buildings but with just enough light to see the damage.
It seemed as if the sky screamed with Harry.
The rain was pouring down heavily, the clouds dark and the wind was unforgiving as it blew harshly against the trees and the ground below them. The lighting strikes were loud, bright flashes of light burst from the sky randomly and loud rumbles of thunder were deep in his ears. Mother Nature has to be upset as well, crying with and for Harry and his loss. He can’t believe it, the love of his life. Gone. Her breathing is shallow and her eyes are just barely opened, she doesn’t have much life left.
“You fucking promised! You can’t leave me! Don’t hurt me like this… please” Harry’s voice cracks as he sobs over the body in his arms.
“I’m so sorry, mama. I’m so fucking sorry, you didn’t deserve this and it’s all my fault. I knew me being in your life was a bad idea but I couldn’t help it. You made me so fucking happy, the happiest I’ve been in a while. You deserved nothing but happiness and smiles, you shouldn’t have to worry about hiding. I was selfish and I’ll forever blame myself, I should’ve let you go. I’m so fucking sorry. I love you, please. You can’t leave me. I need you.” He cries, his words are muffled into her neck, somehow hoping him speaking into her body will magically bring her back to life, keep her alive. He can’t hear anything aside from his own sobs, everyone else doesn’t matter to him at this moment. He’s sure that EJ is trying to talk to him, but he can only focus on the fact that he’ll never be able to hold her again.
He’ll never be able to hear her laugh again. He holds her tighter to him, his tears landing in her skin and he screams. He screams and screams forever, he doesn’t care that he’s gaining attention from the people walking by. He doesn’t care that they’re calling the police and ambulances, doesn’t care that he could be attracting his enemies. They took the only thing he truly cared for. He knows he’ll never be able to love again. There’s a few people trying to help, ask if he needs anything. Offering to take them to the hospital, even the paramedics can’t get to her. He won’t let them take her away from him, he can’t bear it. He can’t imagine a life away from her. They’re trying to convince him that she needs to go to the hospital, trying to take her from his hold. He just holds her limp body tighter, crying harder and yells at them.
Eventually they’re able to calm him down enough to remove her from his hold and they begin to transfer her to the ambulance.
“Don’t bother taking her to the hospital. Just take her to the morgue. She’s dead. There’s no saving her.” He says as he wipes his tears, everyone just stares at him.
“Please.” He says and just walks through them, he doesn’t have it in him to argue. Right now, he has a mission. He’s determined to get revenge.
He now has no reason to not hold back anymore, and he plans on finding each and every one from that group.
He’s not going to play nice, and he’s going to take his dear sweet time. If they thought he was crazy and ruthless already, he’s going to prove that he’s insane now.
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagine#harry edward styles#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fan fic#harry styles one direction#harrystyles#harry#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles angst
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Hello! hope youre doing good!! I was wondering if you could write something about how Harry and Y/n just had to leave each other for work and Harry has an interview the next day and he's a little grumpy?? love SOH so much!!
Management
harry styles x reader (soh masterlist)
summary: harry wants to get back at one of his managers for what he said about his relationship with y/n, which makes for an interesting interview.
warnings: heavy allusions to sex, slut-shaming, and just lhh being the best protective bf ever
a/n: may have taken a bit further than grumpy…love lhh <3
The hotel was perfect: isolated, glamorous, and private. That’s why it was every celebrity’s dream. But to Y/n and Harry, it was their relationship’s paradise.
Y/n had a series of interviews lined up in Montreal and Harry just so happened to be able to fake sick long enough for the Montreal radio interview to be pushed back to an incredible two days. Two days was a lot for them, normally they’d have a phone call, a couple of hours, or even a day if lucky. But two days ment that they could spend the night together, and because One direction flew in on the red eye flight, they could get two.
When Harry checked in with the rest of the band, he went straight to his room, changed to pajamas and a sweatshirt with a hood, and left to room 2089, her room.
Harry got a little queezy on the trip up; his fear of heights combined with his lack of sleep and flying sickness didn’t make for a great combo. He just really needed some sleep.
He sprinted through the halls, knocked on the door, than yanked into the room by the only person he would want to yank him like that.
Y/n pushed him up against the closed door and kissed him. It was definitely messy—it was pass midnight and they’ve both been working, so who could blame them—but perfect for them.
“Darling I love your lips so much but I’m so tired I’m gonna need you to carry be to the bed.” Harry begged. “Need y’a to lift me up bridal style.”
“Mm, think you’ll have to carry me—“ Harry dropped his head so it was on her shoulder, grunting slightly. “—Or we can awkwardly waddle to the bed.”
They collapsed onto the bed, held in each others arms with sleep encompassing the couple right away. Harry was bear-hugging Y/n, practically turning into a blanket with the only goal of supplying her warmth. Y/n was happily hugging and subconsciously combing his long, unruly hair while they slept.
~
The work day started at 9 am. They haven’t seen each other much, but took comfort in the fact they could at least get mindnight to 9 together. Harry was receiving his goodbye kiss soon enough, though. It wasn’t a total loss; Harry got more kisses in the shower and showed Y/n exactly how much he missed her.
Harry was adjusting his pajama shorts as he was reluctantly pushed out of her room and raced to the elevator, making sure he didn’t give a surprise show to any of the guests in the hotel. He was alone in the elevator and ran into no one as he unlocked the door to him room.
He closed the door behind him and sighed, that is until he got spooked by some familiar faces.
“You could’ve let us know you got a booty call before we decided to have a 8am meeting, Styles.” Lenard, one of the many One Direction managers, yelled.
Among him was his mates, Niall, Liam, and Louis. All had their head down and a sorry look at Harry.
“I was only gone for a night.” Harry defended. “Still in the hotel-“
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, boy.” The grouchy man replied. “As punishment, you are on backups for the radio performance-”
“What?!”
“You heard me.” Lenard boomed. He turned to the other singers. “Take this as a warning boys. You’re all excused.” The other boys gave a sorry look to Harry, patting his shoulder, giving a nod, but they all could see was how pissed off Harry had become.
When the door shut, and it was just the two of them, Lenard got back on his bullshit again. “If your main concern is meeting with some girl willing to put herself out-“
“That’s unfair! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Harry yelled back. “I am not just sleeping around, I just missed my girlfriend.”
“Oh right, your girlfriend Y/n, the one who sleeps to get roles” Lenard snickered.
“That is not true you asshole!”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself.” Lenard spoke. Lenard knew fully well who Y/n is, she was the reason Harry wasn’t willing to go into PR relationships with other celebrities. Harry was the most marketable members of One Direction, and Lenard wanted to make sure he could do the most so he could get a raise in his salary.
“You’re more than welcome to fuck around with some other girls. That Jenner one—“
“I already said no, Lenard!” Harry seethed. “I’m sick of all your controlling nagging! I’m singing and dancing my ass off and putting all my work into this and all you can do is complain that I miss one of your surprise meetings!”
Lenard didn’t know what to say, or quite frankly, didn’t care, so he ignored Harry. “You’ll be on closer watch. I will make sure to tell security to never let you out of their sight.”
“That’s unfair-“
“Quiet or you’ll be on backups the rest of tour.” Lenard threatened.
“You can’t do that! I’m half the show!” Harry fought back. “You know the show won’t be any good if I’m on backups.”
“Just clean yourself up and wear what you are suppose to. Downstairs in thirty.”
Lenard walked out, slamming the door behind him. Not letting Harry get a word in.
~
During the whole interview, Harry had on a fake smile. He was glad Y/n taught him how to make a fake smile look more believable, because all he could see was red.
Ever since Zayn left, One direction management had tighten its claws onto the remaining members. Wanting to make the boys sign a new contract, locking in the boys practically permanently. Y/n, like always, came in a clutch when she prevented Harry from signing and got Harry to get a lawyer that wasn’t connect to 1D, providing her own. With this new lawyer, Harry was able to prevent permanent control, letting him drop when he needed; which only caused more chaos in the group.
As sad as he was for his friend for leaving the band, he understood were Zayn came from. Privacy, independence, freedom, that’s all he wanted.
“Harry you’ve been quiet here today, what’s on your mind.” The interviewer asked.
An idea came to Harry: subtly piss off management. His fake smile turned into a smirk.
“I’m thinking about a shag a recently had.” Harry replied.
“A shag?”
“A shag.” He said bluntly. “Now I got this song idea in my head.”
“How interesting.” The interviewing commented, trying to find an interesting yet pg way to spin this, yet all Harry could focus on was the middle aged men in suits on the other side of glass, all glaring at Harry, roaring up to end this.
“Anyone in particular?”
“According to public opinion, I can only ever write songs about one girl, so everyone can go figure who I’d sleep with.”
One of the managers banged on the window. Everyone looked up as he made a wrapping up sign with his hand. Harry smiled, proud of himself.
“Well, that’s One Direction for you folks…”
~
“That bloody fucker—“
“Hey, hey, hey.” One of the other managers, an older rich guy by the name of Vincent—the most tolerable out of the bunch, calmed Lenard down.
“He just ruined that interview! We’re going to have a weeks worth of bad press!”
“I already contacted them and they agreed to cuts Harry’s part…”
The voices trailed off as Harry snuck out of the group and into an elevator at the hotel, he made eye contact with one of the members of security but the man, Paul, had a soft spot for young love and simply looked away.
Harry pressed button twenty and the doors quickly shut, the elevator starting its climb to the high floor. He raced to Y/n’s room as the doors opened and rapidly knocked on her door.
“It’s me!” He yelled, knowing a crazy fan would knock the same way he was.
The door swung open and Y/n was met with a sad tall man, so genuinely looked like he needed a hug.
“Harry?” She ushered him inside, locking the door and pulling him in for a hug. “What happened?”
“Management.” Harry sighed. “I got yelled at for not being in my room because apparently there was an impromptu meeting this morning. Then I kinda implied we were together to stick it to him during the interview and said i was writing a song about us having sex and now he’s pissed and I’m so so sorry.”
Y/n broke apart from Harry’s tight hug, pulling back to get a look at the man, once boy, that was apologizing for standing up for himself. She couldn’t believe it. Against Lenard too, which makes Harry’s actions much more valid.
She stroked his cheek, looking into his green eyes that had a tinge of red from tears of anger forming in his eyes. “Hey if it’s to stick it to that Lenard then I’ll release our sex tape if it mean he’d quit and leave us alone.” Y/n joked, causing Harry to let out a much needed sigh of laughter.
“He’d probably drop me after that.”
“Yeah but he’d be jealous.” Harry smiled again, looking at the love of his life. He hand traced her jaw, and thumb traced her lip.
Harry nodded agreeing with the plan, until his face quickly went sour. “But my mum would kill me—god.” Y/n giggled as Harry look deeply annoyed.
“I think it’s time.” Harry’s decided, taking a deep breath before he continued. “I think I’ll bring it up with the others.”
“Really?” Y/n asked.
“Yeah. Lenard has already threatened to make me back up and he said some stuff about you-“ He took a deep breath. “I think I could do better on my own, with my own team. People who don’t care if I sleep with you, or sing about sex.” Harry chuckled, leaning into the fantasy.
“Oh yeah? And how would this sex song go?”
“Hmm.” Harry thought, before singing a jingle of a tune. “I just want to taste it.”
“Haha. You’re funny.” She chided. “Remember to never let your dick do the writing here.”
“Maybe writing about sex is a bit too much. Even for me.” Harry thought. “He would make it way to rude for public radio.”
“He?”
“Yeah my dick, Ed.” Harry teased. “You want to meet him again?”
“Wait Ed like Edward, your middle name?”
“Yeah and Ward is the name of my bonus nipple—“
“I think it’s time for bed.” Y/n interrupted. “You need sleep.”
Harry nodded and followed her lead, stripping himself until he was left in his boxers and she was in her bra and panties. Sex definitely was not on the menu tonight, but they both were a sucker to intimacy and body warmth.
“I’m flying out tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t remind me.” Harry groaned.
“I was thinking, you come with me.” Y/n asked.
“You mean I should skip interviews tomorrow?”
“You have sick days you’re entitled to.” Y/n reminded him, booping his nose. “They can’t sue you for catching a cold. And you definitely look sick in my expert opinion.”
“I guess I’ll take your word for it.” Harry snuggled closer. “Where are we going then?”
“Plane goes to England. Maybe see your mum and then leave to Italy?”
“That sounds so perfect.” Harry sighed, knowing that honestly sounds amazing. “I love you.” He kissed her face, sprinkling them all over her face. “So much.”
“I already said I love you. Don’t make me regret that." Y/n said, sleep taking over her voice. “Goodnight Harry.”
“Night, love.”
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