#hslot!one shot
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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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📺 Sugar
A/N: Welcome to The Tonight Show with Harry Styles. The year is 1964, and you are his assistant. He's a bit of a shit. So this is a fun one.
C.W: sexual content: kinda rough— choking, spanking, degradation, slapping, spitting, squirting.
18+ ONLY.
***
New York City, 1964.
"Red leather, yellow leather, red leather, yellow leather."
The bright lights heated him even from behind the curtain. A warmth that coasted alongside his adrenaline. He struggled to keep his body cool underneath his designer sweater, felt his feet tapping restlessly in his leather oxfords.
This was his favourite part.
The cheers, the introduction, the attention.
You ran the lint roller over his shoulders as he sipped steaming tea from a paper cup. You made sure the collar of his plaid shirt was straight as it peeked out from his red sweater.
Another sip of steaming tea, another tongue twister.
"She sells..." You coached.
He took in a deep breath, watching you as you made sure he appeared perfect, rearranging the groomed curls on his head. Your green dress stood brightly against the black of the stage, the white cuffs of it framing your wrists as you fussed over his hair.
"She sells seashells by the seashore."
"One minute till curtain!" The stage manager yelled as he breezed by. "How're you feeling, Mr. Styles?"
"Like a million bucks, Sal!"
"That's the spirit!" Sal chuckled, running towards the side of the stage, probably chasing after an intern who wasn't doing their job properly.
"Remember, you're meeting your parents for dinner after this." You reminded, ticking off the mental to-do list that was really his. It was clogging your mind but after all, it was your job.
"I haven't forgotten." He rolled his eyes. Yes, you were his assistant, but he found you controlling at times and he had little patience for women who tried to control him. He preferred to be the one in charge.
"But you'll still find a way to be late, anyway." You stepped back with a huff. He really did make your job a living hell.
"I'm taking a refreshment in my dressing room after the show."
You scrunched up your face in disgust. Refreshment. You hated that you knew it was code for a visit from a desperate groupie. You remember when he told you how he chose which girl he liked the best. You'd been watching the audience file in and he appeared behind you, chewing gum with a confident pop of his jaw.
"Let me scope it out."
"Why?"
"Like to see who's gonna join me for a post-show soirée. See those girls?" He pointed to a group of overdressed girls, all giggling and excited for the show to start. "Bingo."
"How do you know which one to pick?"
He shot you a look, clicking his tongue. "The tits, sugar. I always pick the girl with the biggest tits."
"Ugh." You rolled your eyes. "You're disgusting."
"I'm just messin'," He tilted his head. "I'm an ass man, too."
You shuddered at the recollection.
"Yes, Mr. Styles." Your voice was laced with a seething sarcasm that he raised a brow at.
He didn't seem to conceptualise that you talked that way because that's how he talked to you. He couldn't see past his blinding, misogynistic ego.
You were purely volleying it right back at him. In hindsight, it wasn't the smartest move because you really needed this job and he had a tendency to fire staff with a snap of his jeweled fingers. He'd made the past six months hard on you and he really made your blood boil.
Who knew becoming Harry Styles' assistant would be akin to babysitting a grumpy toddler?
The Tonight Show with Harry Styles.
Hilarious with guests, a major flirt, and entertaining — even when reading out news segments.
He was well-loved by everyone. For his fun fashion statements, for his guests, his charm, his whole fantasy world on his show. Worldwide, he was adored as the most entertaining and handsome talk show host.
But you knew what happened behind the scenes.
Poised and perfect on camera, but as soon as the director called cut, you had trouble convincing yourself it wasn't a joke. People of the television world had a different sort of ego and you struggled to breathe among it all. Harry hated mingling with guests before and after the show more than he had to, he hated when the crew bothered him, he hated being approached by fans for autographs because he had a headache — or whatever excuse he was offering that day.
Don't get it twisted — he loved the attention he got from being so famous. You were surprised his head wasn't bigger. The one thing he loved most about being so popular was the fact that he could have anyone on his knees for him, be between their legs, and have them at their disposal. And he treated them like that was their only use.
The charming and cheerful Harry Styles.
Purely a falsity of a man.
The crew fled from the stage as the band started playing the introduction theme music and you swept the cup from his hand. You replaced it with two certs breath mints that he chewed on routinely.
"Wish me good luck." He demanded as you gave him a once over.
You beamed. "Break a leg."
"Thanks, sugar."
"No, like trip and fall."
His smile dropped into an unamused glare. "Oh, bite me."
The music ensued, getting louder with an abundant cheer from the live crowd, the curtain preparing to lift to reveal him. You rushed off stage, your Mary Janes clicking on the floor before nodding to Sal who gave you two thumbs up.
"Filmed before a live studio audience..."
"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."
Harry took a deep breath, already bathing in the adoration he garnered from simply existing.
"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."
You rolled your eyes as he mouthed along with the words as they were spoken.
"...Mr. Harry Styles!"
The curtain parted and he stepped forward, his hands waving to the crowd before clasping them together as he took a small bow. He blew kisses, thanking them for coming and welcoming them. He egged on the drummer of the band while the crowd cheered for him.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!"
More cheers that he absolutely cherished and bathed in, letting them fuel his ego.
"We've got a great show for you tonight, we have special guests The Everly Brothers joining us!"
Your job while Harry was doing his magic spiel on stage was to check in with him during commercial breaks, smooth his hair, offer him mints, refill his water. Also to make sure everything was perfect for him when he wrapped up. He was extremely demanding, and while you were warned of that when you first took the job, you were still so surprised just how needy he was.
He liked ham and tomato sandwiches exactly fifteen minutes before he was put into his hair and makeup chair. He liked a cup of hot tea right before air time, alongside a few tongue twisters. He went through packets of Certs breath mints faster than you thought humanly possible. He also wanted a cup of black coffee waiting for him directly after he got off stage.
He didn't like to talk to anyone on his way to his dressing room unless it was Sal congratulating him and inflaming his already huge ego. Or security telling him about a waiting groupie in his dressing room. Or you, running over his schedule or helping him memorise his script. Well, he didn't like talking to you. He more or less answered in grunts or irritated comments.
As Harry settled in for his show post the joke segment, you ran around backstage. Ordering his coffee and one for yourself because you couldn't keep up with his demands without your own shot of caffeine. You were due within minutes to refresh him during the breed.
It really was an exciting job, aside from being a woman in a man's world. You were treated as such but you were lucky enough to be given the job in the first place. At first, you were nervous around Harry. It took him a second to warm up to you.
The first time you met was when he found you in his dressing room before a show, bent over the vanity as you watered his flowers. He thought you were there for a completely different reason and had quickly started to unbuckle his belt.
"Alright, let's make this quick."
You then spotted him in the mirror and turned with a gasp. "What are you-"
And before it could have got any more awkward, before Harry could even fully unbuckle his belt, Sal stormed in with a shocked laugh.
"Oh!" His amused gaze flickered between the two of you. "Harry, I see you've met your new assistant."
"I don't need an assistant, Sal. We've been through this. Why do you think I got rid of the last one?"
"Well, of course, you do! She's just here to help you perform at your best, Styles. Try not to scare this one off."
And while he'd probably never admit it to you, you actually were very helpful to have around. Once you'd stopped being so awkward and nervous and jittery around him, you found a dynamic that worked. One where he could be a condescending male and you could be just as snappy right back to him.
Past assistants had stuck to him like a bad smell and only irritated him. You did what was expected of you. Nothing more, nothing less. You kept your little purse stocked with certs breath mints, lint rollers and kept that fact that he fucked fans in his dressing rooms after and sometimes before shows quiet.
But after all, everyone was well aware. They even congratulated him on his sexual success. Nothing grossed you out more.
Aside from Harry being a mildly misogynistic, cocky, well-dressed thorn in your side, you loved your job. You met exciting guests whom you only dreamed of meeting. Stars you had posters of in your apartment, musicians whose vinyls you span on your turntable.
In your first week on the job, you met Santo and Johnny. They'd just finished a performance of Sugar Song and they flirted with you until you were a blushing mess.
Harry had watched the interaction, grumbling about professionalism and waiting for them to leave so he could torment you about it.
"Got the hots do ya, little sugar?"
"Kiss off, Styles."
That was the most colourful thing you'd ever said to him. The shock of it raised his brows and sent a singeing pang of arousal directly to his crotch.
There was a part of Harry that wanted to hate you. Because you were a woman bossing him around and because you got on his nerves. But the more rational part of him knew he could never hate you. You were too helpful and he'd be lying if he said you weren't one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen. And he'd seen a lot of girls.
But he knew you were disgusted by his habits, how he slept with so many people. In his own sick way, he used it to his advantage, to keep you at arm's length. That and endless comments he knew would rile you up. And boy, did he rile you up. He'd finessed the art of it.
The show ran smoothly tonight, but by no means were you any less busy. You raced around with your clipboard tucked under your arm and two cups of coffee in either hand. You sipped on yours, grateful for the kick it gave. Harry was saying his goodnight to the crowd, his cup steaming in your left hand as you rushed to meet him.
"Thank you for spending the night with me, New York!"
His classic closing catchphrase. Cheeky and risky, but it was him and he got away with everything.
Thunderous applause overpowered the sound of your heels clicking as you turned a corner, beelining towards the stage exit. You were late. He'd be off stage by now, demanding things and barking orders like the diva he was.
As if you weren't going to hear an earful from him as it was, an intern bumped into you. The crash caused your two cups of coffee to spill all down the front of your dress. You barely noticed the burn.
"Seriously?" You seethed, holding your now empty cups out in exasperation.
"I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching-"
"You don't say."
You could hear Harry asking where you were and you groaned, absolutely vexed. You turned in the exact opposite direction of him and back to grab more coffee. You knew he'd especially need it tonight if he was meeting with his parents.
"What happened to you?" Sal guffawed and you rolled your eyes.
"If you see Harry, tell him that his coffee is coming."
"Bit hard getting it to him when you're wearing it."
"Not funny."
A few minutes later, you held a single coffee cup. Steaming, black. You wrapped both your hands around it, holding it steady and keeping far away from anyone who could bump you. Your dress had seen better days and the stain was obvious and uncomfortably wet.
You found your way back to his dressing room, where he'd no doubt holed himself up in to freshen up. You knocked, hoping he was alone and waiting for you before continuing on with his post-show... rituals.
"Come in!" You heard from the other side and you slipped inside quickly.
"So sorry, Mr. Styles, I had an accid- oh, my god!"
You took in the scene before you. Harry. With a girl on his knees in front of him. His jeweled fingers clenching a fistful of the girl's hair as she sucked him off. His brows were turned down in the middle but his eyes... his eyes were on you. And he was enjoying it. Enjoying the girl, and enjoying you watching.
"Alright, sugar?"
"I-" You didn't know what to say, and the girl didn't stop. You didn't know if that was her doing or if Harry was holding her down. You turned, and idiotically turned back around, taking the few steps towards him, and handed him his cup of coffee. You didn't meet his eyes, like a bumbling idiot.
You left the room, but not before hearing Harry take a hefty sip of his coffee and letting out a soft moan, "Oh, that's so good."
Vexed by his antics, and the fact that he made it his mission to throw you off like that, you signed out and went home. It was as vulnerable as you'd ever seen him and you felt an odd sense of jealously wash over you. Maybe you were jealous of past you, because she hadn't witnessed it. Or maybe there was a bit of jealousy there because you wanted to be the one on your knees for him.
As delightful as the thought was for a margin of a second, you felt ill knowing you'd be another Harry Styles groupie. And it would make your job more difficult which you didn't think was even possible.
But you couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. His blissful expression, the way he directed it at you as opposed to the mouth wrapped around him. He had told you to enter his dressing room so that you could see it.
The next night, you planned on fully avoiding him and pretending the whole thing never happened. Which was hard considering, you know, you were to follow him around and listen to his demands. And especially hard because you just wished he'd command you onto your knees already.
Sure, you found him extremely attractive — everyone did. You may have even had a little crush when you first met him. But then you got to know him, and his habits and his ways. Last night grossed you out just as much as it turned you on. You felt so thrown off and now you weren't sure how to act around him.
You arrived at the studio not too long before showtime, Harry's cup of tea in hand. You were a little bit late today but you figured he could survive fifteen minutes without you. He was in hair and wardrobe, getting his curls perfected and his forehead powered.
He sat in the chair with his legs spread, a pair of black dress pants and a white singlet, his inked arms on display. You focused on staying professional and met his eyes for a brief moment as you greeted him and handed him his cup of tea. No milk, and don't be shy with the honey, he'd told you when you first started.
His eyes scanned your attire, a pink dress with long sleeves but a shorter hem than usual, he noticed. He didn't hate having to look at your legs, your plump thighs, and the intrigue of what was between them ran rampant in his thoughts.
You had a soft yellow ribbon in your hair, keeping it swept away from your face in a high ponytail. He clenched his jaw, wishing it was his hand fisting your hair. He'd tie your hands up with the ribbon so you'd have to behave for him.
"Thanks. Dig pink on ya." He took a sip, his eyes full with mischief as he watched you over the rim of his cup. "Enjoy the show last night?"
You knew he was referring to you seeing him get blown by some random groupie so you ignored him, looking at your clipboard. "So Sal wants to see you in five, and we're reconfiguring some set pieces before airtime. So be on stage straight after you've seen him, okay?"
The hairstylist finished up, and you were left alone with him in the room. You were a lot stiffer tonight, more reserved than usual and he picked up on it right away. You raised a brow, wondering if he'd heard a single word you said.
He smirked. "Why did you come in last night? You know I have post-show celebrations in my dressing room."
"I was bringing you coffee! You told me to come in!" This man was exasperating. He knew that he'd asked you for coffee and told you to enter his dressing room after you'd knocked. He wanted you to see and now he was just winding you up.
He raised a brow. "Did I?"
"Five minutes." You reaffirmed. You tried to hide the way that his tone crept down your spine in slow, hot trickles.
He sat up in the chair, his hand reaching to cup the back of your lower thigh. You stopped breathing at the sudden touch and he pulled you towards him. His gaze was searing on yours, his eyes wondering and daring.
"You wanted to stay, didn't you? Watch me get my dick sucked while I watched you."
"No, I didn't." You whispered, letting him pull you forward until you were standing between his spread legs.
"No?"
"No." Even you weren't convinced by your answer.
"Hmm... you wanted to be the one on your knees for me. Is that it?"
You took a deep, shaky breath. His question fired something off in your brain. A realisation perhaps. You did want to be on your knees for him, being the reason for his pleasure, be at his command, make him feel good, make him fucking fall apart because of you.
"So pretty in this tiny fuckin' dress." He cooed. His hand came up, cupping your cheek. Your eyeshadow was a pretty soft blue and he adored it. His fingers trailed down, tracing your lower lip. "You'd look so perfect with my cock in your mouth."
You couldn't even suppress the whimper that ensued. Did you thank him? Slap him? Get on your knees and prove his point?
He didn't seem fazed by the fact that you weren't saying much. You were responding to him in other ways. Leaning right into him with your eyes lulled, your hands resting on his broad shoulders. Your chest heaving beneath that fucking pink dress. You were driving him crazy with how badly he wanted you.
The night before had been his own sick little test. Either, you'd be game, or you'd pull away from him completely. Regardless, he'd know where you stood and accept all that accompanied him. He knew how fucked up it was but you really seemed to enjoy the game.
His other hand squeezed the back of your thigh, inching higher. "What colour are your panties?"
You gasped at the question, so turned on by him and how bold he was. It used to scare you, but now being on the receiving end was a completely different ballpark.
"Blue." You breathed out.
"What shade of blue?" He pressed on. "Like your eyeshadow?"
You twisted your lips in thought. "Do you want to see?"
Harry released a shocked laugh, but his mind was fucking reeling. Did you really just ask if he wanted to see your panties?
"A peek couldn't hurt."
He gripped your hips and lifted you up onto the vanity behind you. You were shocked that he could lift you so effortlessly and smoothly. You crossed your legs, more to tease him than anything else. Your expression was sultry, and he felt lightheaded at the sight of you. Slowly, you unfolded your legs but didn't open them.
"Don't be shy, sugar. Show me and I'll make it up to you."
You let out a slow exhale, mustering up all of your courage. You were shaking, but it wasn't nerves. He had you so worked up and he had barely done anything. He'd riled you up and talked to you, and you were already fucking saturated.
Your legs parted, feet resting on either side of his thighs on the chair. Harry's eyes stayed on yours, his hands reaching to slide up your thighs, pushing the hem of your pink press up so he could get a good view of you, finally looking down.
And what a fucking view it was. Your thighs were soft, and he let his hands squeeze at them. Sky blue lace covered the area he'd been dreaming about for six months. He let out a soft groan and let his fingertip brush over the skin where your abdomen met the panties.
"Lace? Did you wear these for me?"
"I had you in mind."
"Naughty girl." He smirked, shuffling forward. His thumb brushed over your clothed clit and you let out a whimper, biting your lip to quell anything louder than might to escape. "Can I taste you? Please? Been wantin' to for months."
You nodded, your mouth dry. You'd let this man do anything to you, and hearing him tell you he'd been wanting this for months left you in a frenzy.
"Words, sugar. Let's hear 'em."
"Please," You whispered. "taste me."
"Good girl, that's it." He pulled your panties to the side, desperate to see you and taste you. You were glistening, so wet and plump for him. He sighed, running his thumb along your clit before venturing between your folds to feel how wet you were. Your thighs jolted as he slipped his thumb to collect your excitement and spread it up to your clit.
"Why are you so wet, hm?" He wondered aloud, his eyes meeting yours again.
"Because of you, Harry."
"Me?" Cocky little shit.
"Mm."
"Are you always this wet for me, sugar?"
You hesitated, not sure if you wanted to give him this. He would never forget it, probably remind you that he knew every day. Probably slip his hand up your dress just to appease his own curiosity.
"Only when you're nice to me."
"But you like me mean, don't you?"
"You're an asshole."
"Gets you wet, though."
Abruptly, as if impatient, he lowered his head and attached his mouth to your clit. The scorching heat of it was intense, and you grabbed a fistful of his freshly tamed curls to hold him to you.
His tongue ran over your entirety. From your entrance right back up to your clit, tasting you fully as his mouth closed around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You threw your head back, rolling your cunt towards his face as he softly ate you with a passion that had you shaking.
Before anything more could occur, Sal knocked on the door, demanding that Harry meet with him. He knew better than to enter any room that was hidden behind a closed door when it came to Harry. But if he'd known it was you behind that door with him, that would be another issue entirely.
You shot up, pushing him out of the way and righting your dress. You were tingling and you could still feel his tongue between your legs. His eyes were dark as he watched you from his seat, amused by your fumbling.
"Go before Sal comes back." You were flustered, your body felt electric and all he'd given you was his mouth for what — ten seconds?
He was too relaxed, and it only pissed you off further. He stood, sauntering towards you to press you against the vanity. His hand cupped your jaw, his rings kissing your skin.
"Funny that you're making demands when I'm the boss."
You breathed heavily, unsure of how to reply so you just held eye contact with him. Your lips parted as his head tilted, inching closer. His hand loosened, melting to your cheek so he could rub it with his thumb.
"Who's in charge, hm?"
"You are."
"That's right." He crooned, his lips brushing yours. "And who's gonna give you his cock later?"
The air was stripped from your lungs, the depth behind his question clear. Would you submit to him? Venture into this connection you had with him? You got on each other's nerves but fuck if there wasn't the most incredible sexual tension between you.
"You are, Harry."
He hummed, gripping your hand and bringing it down to cup his cock. He was hard, and pulsed in your hand when you gave him a squeeze. You just about crumbled when he moaned, his eyes lulling as you did it again. Harder.
"There's my good girl."
Sal knocked again, clearly impatient tonight. Harry smirked and could feel his lips curl against yours before he pulled away. He left the room with a confident strut while you were left shaking. You took a second to catch your breath, willing the arousal between your legs to simmer down before heading back out towards the stage.
You grabbed your purse and kept busy doing your job while Harry caught up with Sal. He was doted over, like always, and Sal told him how his viewings were skyrocketing. After he'd finished up his tasks on stage, he was whisked back to wardrobe so he could be styled.
Because Harry was busy chatting with tonight's guest and getting ready, all you had to do was wait for him to come to you. You peeked through the curtains at the set. The audience was being brought in and you were watching the seats fill from the side of the stage.
A piercing whistle sounded out from behind you and you twirled on the spot. He looked phenomenal. His suit was a sky blue, not too dissimilar to the shade of your panties. His shirt was a crisp white, his chain peeking through where it was unbuttoned, sat between his pecs and the light dusting of hair.
His eyes looked greener when he was dressed in blue, his lips more raspberry. He approached you and your eyes flew down to his shiny black oxfords.
"Whaddya think huh?" He spun on his heels, showing off. "Matchin'."
"Blue suits you."
"Suits you, too." Harry winked, standing close to you before nodding towards the audience. "How's it looking out there?"
Was he... trying to make casual conversation? After his face was between your thighs and all the talk that proceeded it? "Full house, like always. Did you... was that on purpose?"
"What?"
"The blue suit."
"Why else would I ask what colour your panties were, hm?"
"Because you're nosy."
"You know... every time you insult me, I get hard."
"Good thing I have plenty of them, then."
"Come on," He pressed you tight against the wall. "Gimme another one."
"Prick."
He chuckled, amused by how freely you were cursing. "That all you got?"
"You're the cockiest son a bitch I've ever met." You breathed out. His hands pressed to the wall on either side of your head, caging you in.
"Alright." He was crowding your space, the spicy-sweet vanilla of his cologne clouding your senses. He checked to see if anyone was around before clicking his tongue. "Take your panties off."
"What?" You were well aware that any crew member could walk by, and you weren't about to be caught slipping your panties down your legs.
"You heard me. Just lemme hold onto 'em until the show's over."
"Are you bent? I'm not giving you my panties. I need them and someone could walk by at any moment."
"Mellow out, no one's gonna see."
You deliberated in your head, genuinely considering it. His head tilted to the side, gauging your thoughts. This was so... exhilarating. Exciting. You were so out of it for him, and glad that you finally both agreed on something. You were both attracted to each other physically and that was about it.
Fuck it. Your hands reached beneath your dress, and Harry took a step back to give you room, keeping a lookout. You stepped out of those pretty little panties and held them out to him on your index finger. He snatched them up, eyeing how delicate they looked in his hand.
"Far out." He laughed, in shock that you actually did it.
You were a bundle of surprises tonight. He was throwing stuff at you that was pretty out there and you were throwing it right back. Sweet little sugar had a little more spice than he had anticipated.
"Cheers, sugar." He twirled them around on his finger and you slapped his shoulder.
"Don't just wave them around!" You hissed, looking around to make sure no one had seen the whole interaction.
Harry shoved them in his pants pocket and you smoothed out the bump they left, always a perfectionist. The guest of the night turned the corner and almost bumped into the two of you. You jumped apart, letting Harry chat to the guest on his own. He rarely enjoyed it and you looked back to see the subtle hints of irritation on his face. You knew he'd flash that charming smile and those adorable dimples as soon as the cameras came on.
With only a few minutes until the show was due to start, you bumbled around and made sure everything was perfect for him. You were very aware of the fact that you didn't have your panties on, and with your dress being shorter than usual, you had to be careful.
Sal breezed past you, beelining towards Harry and the guest with a huge grin. He greeted them loudly and you did your part by waiting to the side for further instruction. The guest was led to their spot for showtime, one of the stage managers with them to keep them entertained and to give their cues. Harry shook Sal's hand, hearing Sal's usual encouraging words before making his way towards you.
"Feeling okay?" You checked in, handing him a couple of Certs breath mints. You walked side by side towards center stage, and he wasn't shy about his stare on you. It felt different — the air around you. Usually filled with annoyance, was something else. Hotter, dreamier, sensual.
"Snazzy." He nodded, chucking the mints into his mouth. "Little foreplay always gets me goin'."
You huffed out a breath at his response, resisting the urge to retort something cheeky as the stagehand came to run through the show one more time. You righted his outfit, his eyes not leaving you as you made sure he looked smooth and perfect.
As the stagehand left, you grabbed your round brush from your purse and went over his curls. You began adding a little volume while he hummed and oohed and aahed to exercise and prepare his voice.
"You know New York..." You guided.
"You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."
"Again."
He sighed, closing his eyes so he could focus. "You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."
"Lesser leather..." You hinted at another tongue twister. You ran the lint roller across the lapels of his suit jacket and over his shoulders, catching his eyes and not missing the glint in them. "...never weathered..."
"It's funny," He smirked. "you're a tongue twister master right now, but you won't be able to say your own name by the time I'm done with you later."
"Oh my-"
"Yeah, I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."
"One minute till curtain, everyone!" Sal's voice boomed. "Look alive, look alive!"
The crowd was roaring with applause as the show began, but all you could hear was your pulse in your ears as your heart thudded in your chest. Harry, who usually thrived off of the cheers, was only focused on you. On your sweet voice asking if he wanted to see your panties, on your feisty insults.
"Filmed before a live studio audience..."
You called him a cocky son of a bitch and all he could think about was bending you over his knee and seeing how much shit you talked while his hand was marking your ass with its imprint.
Everyone fled the stage, but you were stood completely still in front of him. Frozen.
"Harry..."
His lips brushed yours again and your ears started ringing.
"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."
"Look at you," He crooned. "Runnin' round with no panties with that pretty ribbon in your hair. Dirty little thing, aren't you, sugar?"
You could feel how slick you were between your thighs and your eyes fluttered as his hand ventured beneath your skirt from behind, cupping your ass cheek with a strong hand before venturing further. His fingertips found your cunt and you almost collapsed against him.
He hummed lowly, rumbling in his chest. He pulled his hand away, very aware that the curtain was close to pulling up. He held his index and middle fingers in front of you, glistening with your arousal, and ran them along your lower lip.
You didn't even hesitate to suck his fingers into your mouth, not losing eye contact. Harry's brows turned down, his mouth dropping as he drawled out a slow fuuuck. And then he kissed you. It was messy and wet and quick. His lips were so soft against your own before he sucked deftly on your tongue, tasting you and your cunt at the same time.
"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."
"Fuck, can we cancel the show?" He growled, holding you to him with a grip on the nape of your neck.
"N-No. I have to go."
"...Mr. Harry Styles!"
You fled from the stage, walking backwards, not wanting to take your eyes off him. His expression was one of longing, his eyes not leaving you either. The curtain lifted, igniting him in the warmth of the stage lighting and the eruption of cheers.
He turned and faced the crowd, waving and blowing kisses. His smile was dazzling, and his blue suit was celestial under the bright glow. He was wrapped in success and adoration. You could see it radiating off him as he found centre stage and bowed.
"Good evening, New York!" He waited for applaud to finish. "How are we?"
You rounded the backstage area, checking in with crew and chatting to the guest.
"Can I just say..." Harry continued, clasping his hands together. "you look ravishing tonight, New York." More praise from the audience. "It's true, you do."
You rolled your eyes at the excited yells and cheers from the crowd. You watched him in a totally new light tonight. He was on a level that no one could reach. He was born to be on stage, to entertain.
He introduced the guest and brought them onstage, talking about their upcoming music and chatting them up. During the commercial breaks you checked in with the guest, and made sure Harry's appearance was on point.
His eyes were on you the whole time, and you could see him fighting the urge to make some kind of questionable comment. His eyes veered south and stayed on where the hem of your dress brushed your thighs.
"Need anything else?" You asked him politely, aware of the audiences stare on your back.
"I won't need coffee tonight." He educated softly and you nodded.
"We're back in fifteen seconds." The cameraman alerted and you gathered your things and went to leave. The guest was busy fixing their hair with the stylist. Harry's hand on your wrist stopped you, pulling you back.
"Actually, there is one more thing." He back peddled, and you raised an expectant brow, leaning in close to hear him. "Stay right over there, okay? Wanna be able to see you."
He pointed to a spot off stage, where only guests and select members of crew like Sal or the director were allowed to stand during air time. And he wanted you there. So he could look over and see you and know you were watching.
"I- Yeah, okay."
You rushed off stage, standing exactly where he told you to. He watched you right until the advertisement break ended.
"And we're back in three... two... one..."
His eyes switched back to the camera, his expression slipping into the charm that came so naturally to him once he was live on air.
He was a star. Delightful and eccentric and unapologetic.
He exchanged more jokes with the guest, who as an up and coming musician, was gearing up for their performance. You stayed to watch the show exactly where Harry wanted you, and you were pleased that you didn't get any slack from Sal. You rarely got to actually enjoy the show like this, and in a way, it felt like Harry had done you a favour.
His eyes often flicked to you after he'd told a joke or said something cheeky. Like he was directed it at you, or maybe he was checking to see if you found him as funny as the crowd did. When you didn't laugh as hard as he thought the joke deserved, he'd try extra hard to get you to laugh at the following one.
It was odd that he was trying to seek validation from you when he had millions at his feet.
As the show wrapped up, you couldn't have applauded him louder. You were proud, you felt giddy and bubbly inside. He was born for this, there was no denying it.
And then there was the realisation of what was to come once the show had finished. You became nervous. And insanely wet. The anticipation rattled yet excited you and you weren't sure what to make of it.
You rounded towards his exit, a crowd of crew and groupies waiting for him. He came to you first, as you were closest. He shot polite smiles to everyone but his attention was on you.
"How'd I do?"
"Phenomenal."
"Did you like my jokes?"
You side-eyed a few people waiting for a shred of his attention and felt the need to rush this interaction between you along. You didn't want to raise suspicions and you also didn't want to take away any attention he could be giving to these people who were clearly waiting for him.
"My tummy laughs from hurting so much." You whispered. His grin was contagious, dimples and his bunny teeth on full display. His eyes were warm as he stared down at you.
"Really?"
"Mhm."
A throat cleared behind you and Harry looked up to shoot them a reassuring wink and then looked back at you. "Wait for me in my dressing room."
It was an order, even with the softness in his tone. You licked your lips, not missing when his eyes caught it. You backed away, slowly pulling your ribbon out of your hair. His jaw clenched as your hair fell free.
"Yes, Mr. Styles. Right away."
His dressing room felt alien to you as you slipped inside, a familiar place with such a different atmosphere now. How quickly the dynamic had changed between you was dizzying. You always knew you were attracted to him, but you never thought you'd act on it.
And you certainly never thought he'd have his mouth on your cunt minutes before a show.
How long were you meant to wait? You checked your appearance in the mirror, your cheeks flushed with excitement. Your dress was pristine, as was your makeup and you wondered how long that would last.
You were riffling through Harry's pile of books when he came in. Your spine straightened, every nerve tingling. He closed the door behind him, leaning back against it.
His gaze was one that had you clenching your thighs together. An intimidating hunger, a deep lust. His eyes were dark, void of the bright glint they usually offered. He didn't say anything and that only made the tension thicker.
And then he locked the door with a click.
He took one single step towards you and you inhaled a sharp breath at the slow, torturous pace of it. Like he was taunting and teasing you. He shoved one hand in his pocket, the other reaching up. He gripped his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, his eyes finding your feet in your Mary Janes and trailing up your legs.
He was slow with that as well as if to keep you on your toes. He had always been so rushed and spontaneous with a lot of what he did. But this.... this he'd been thinking about for a long time. He'd had months to plan this through.
Plan how he was going to play with you, make you beg for him, make you feel good.
He really enjoyed the secrecy of it. And all that would come after. He liked the idea of meeting your eyes at work, both of you exchanging knowing looks because you both knew what it took to pleasure each other.
Fuck. His sex life wasn't complicated. He fucked fans because the likelihood of seeing them ever again was slim. But you were close to home, dangerously so. He saw you all the time. And somehow that just made him want you even more.
He produced your panties from his pocket and came to stand in front of you.
"Now," He began, lowering his head to meet your eyes. "are you going to need help keeping quiet?"
He fucking knew he'd have you screaming for him. He was just being precautious, knowing that on the other side of the door, the studio was littered with crew members.
You shook your head. "No."
"Are you sure?"
"I don't think you're that good."
He rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek, huffing out a humourless laugh before pocketing your panties again. You were so snappy and cheeky with him and he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his dick so fucking hard in his pants. You were winding him up. Trying to poke at him and provoke him. Well, it was fucking working.
"Oh, you don't think so?"
"I think that's why your ego's as big as it is. Because you can't fuck."
He did what he wanted to do earlier that day; he grabbed your hair in his fist. You gasped through a surprised smile, and he brought you close until you were pressed against him.
"What did I tell you?" His voice was low, thick with arousal. You'd never heard his voice that deep and you felt it between your legs. "Hm?"
"That you won't need coffee tonight?"
He gripped your hair harder and his cock throbbed when you smiled.
"I told you," His eyes were burning. "that I'm going to ruin you."
The way he pronounced every word was electrifying. As if he was really trying to get his message across. How was this the same man that had asked if you laughed at his jokes after his show?
You flicked your tongue against his lower lip. "Do your worst."
His kiss was far harsher this time. Still just as messy, and you figured that was just how he liked it. He wasn't shy about it. He used his teeth, nibbling on your lower lip, biting on your tongue. He used his free hand to fist your dress at the small of your back.
You were pressed tight against him and fuck, he was so hard for you. Even through his pants, you were impressed with his size. You wanted to feel more, experience him fully. You didn't have all the time in the world, locked away in his dressing room. You were both painfully aware.
He pushed you back, landing you in the chair next to the vanity. He stripped off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. You watched as he pushed your dress out of the way, clearly annoyed that the fabric was disrupting him from his goal. Your center was still so wet for him and he couldn't even suppress the low grown at the sight.
"Pretty little pussy," He gripped your inner thighs, holding them apart. "still so fucking drenched for me. You enjoyed watching me onstage tonight, didn't you? Hearing everyone fawn over me but you know you're the one I want."
"I want you, too. So bad, please fuck me." You whined, your hips rocking up restlessly.
"I wanna have a play first."
"Fuck, please just-"
He spat directly between your legs, coating your pussy in his spit. His eyes flickered up to the clock on the wall before he attached his mouth to you with a deep moan. He licked along your entrance and then right up to the sensitive bundle of nerves, fully tasting you again.
He dipped his tongue inside you, fucking you with it before pulling away with a pop and sucking your clit back into his mouth. He trapped it between his teeth and flicked and twirled delicious patterns against it that had your muscles clenching.
He ate you as if he enjoyed it more than you did. He targeted your clit perfectly, able to read your body and its responses so well.
He held eye contact while had his mouth on your cunt, burying his face against you like he couldn't get close enough. Your legs shook on either side of his head, and he kept them spread with his wide hands. You could feel how cold his rings were against your skin.
Your hands reached down, tangling themselves into his curls. You held him against you, his mouth so scorching on you that you felt lightheaded with the tingling heat.
He pulled away momentarily, slipping his index and middle finger in his mouth, all the way until he drew back so teeth were peeling off his rings. He grabbed your hand, taking two of your fingers one by one and replacing the rings on them. They were huge on you but you admired how his jewelry looked on you, the ones he wore while he was on air. Glistening and extravagant.
Now he'd removed them so he could feel you properly.
Deciding that you were wet enough, he ran the pads of his fingers along your entrance. They veered up, circling your clit slowly before heading south again. You cried out softly as his fingers slipped inside you. It was an exquisite sensation and you stared down at him in wonder, mouth agape as you moaned out.
He curled them up, your spine melting as they pressed against a spot inside of you that had before now never been discovered. It was a blinding pressure, tight and full and so fucking good.
Harry smirked at the apparent shock on your face before he moved his fingers, curling them against your g-spot. As he found a rhythm, he brought his mouth back to your clit.
You arched your back, gasping for air as he worked you. He pumped his fingers hard, bringing you higher and higher to an elevation you'd never known. His mouth left your clit and before you could complain at the loss, he was spitting on it once more before giving it a mild slap with his free hand.
You screamed out, not expecting the harshness to feel that enticing. You were being far too loud for him to continue this comfortably. He didn't want anyone to interrupt and moreover, he didn't want you to get in trouble. He wanted to make you come over and over without a care in the world.
The same hand that slapped you retrieved your panties from his pocket before he shoved the lace into your mouth.
If you weren't so blissed out, you may have even be shocked by it. But at that moment, it was so hot and dirty. You trusted him to know best and look after you.
His fingers pulsed against your g-spot and you felt an intensity building in your abdomen and you rolled your hips towards his face. His mouth was relentless on your clit, desperate to get you zoned out with pleasure.
Your walls clenched and ballooned around his fingers and he pulled away, his eyes on you. They were full of lust and hunger, piercing right through you.
"Eyes on me sugar, don't look away." He wanted to watch you. To stare into your eyes, to see your orgasm shatter you.
He pumped his fingers, his pace blinding. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly what to do to get you there. He grunted with the exertion, the tendons in his arm flexing and bulging with how hard he worked you.
And then he smirked, almost pleased with himself. "Have you ever squirted before?"
With your mouth full of lace, you weren't able to verbally answer. You shook your head and he thought the confused frown on your face was fucking adorable.
Before you could even think about what he was asking, the most euphoric explosion of bliss rocked through you. You cried out into the lace, your entire body shaking as you came harder than you ever had before. It was fucking annihilating. You did as you were told, your eyes not leaving his. It was hard, of course. You wanted to shut your eyes and bask in the hot sensation that was taking over every nerve in your body.
But he wanted to watch you. And he wanted you to see the burst of fluid that erupted from your cunt, past his fingers. "Thaaat's it. Good fucking girl, come all over my fingers. Just like that."
You writhed in the chair, grateful for his grip on you. You didn't stop shaking, tremors of pleasure rocking you. He helped you as you came down, your chest heaving and your body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You didn't think it was possible for you to come that way, and you could feel yourself becoming addicted to him.
Harry stood, his hand running up and down your thighs, squeezing them. He removed your panties from your mouth, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You blushed as you tasted yourself on his tongue and curiously ran a hand between your legs to feel the aftermath of your orgasm.
He watched, thinking it was so hot to see your fingers venture between your folds and along your dripping thighs.
"Feel nice?" He hummed, chuckling at your curious expression.
"So nice, I've never... I didn't think I could do that."
"You got me all wet, messy girl." He smiled, kissing you again.
He stood and helped you out of your dress, peeling off your bra so he could play with your tits. He sucked and bit at your nipples, feeling the fullness of your breasts in his palm.
"You're delicious all over, sugar." He admired your fully naked body. "Can't wait to feel you properly. See what that tight little cunt feels like around my cock."
He palmed himself as he spoke, so desperate to feel you. His expression was one of lustful longing, and you could feel it resonate between your legs as if you hadn't just had an earth-shattering climax.
"Take your clothes off." You whined, going to sit up and pouting when he stopped you.
He started to unbutton his shirt, revealing the white singlet underneath. "Stay just like that. Wanna give you my cock while you're sitting in my chair."
The chair where he sat before every show. Reciting jokes in the mirror while his hair was fussed over. The vanity where he'd first seen you, bent over it watering his flowers.
He got rid of his shirt, clearly impatient. He peeled off the white singlet too and you could have drooled at the sight of him. His broad torso and shoulders, his toned tummy, his strong pecs. The ink decorating him. Fuck, you probably did drool.
He caught the leg of the chair on his foot and dragged you closer, undoing his pants at the same time. You shifted forward, your hand reaching out to boldly cup his cock. He groaned, lulling his head back on his neck. His hand came over yours and urged you to squeeze him harder.
"You're so hard." You mewled, humming as he watched you feel him. His jaw dropped as you moved your hand expertly.
"I've been hard for you all night."
He was hyper-aware of the position you were both in and that you were on limited time. The studio was due to lock up soon, left only to after-hours security and the cleaners.
You leaned closer, pulling his pants down with his help. You ran your lips along his length over his briefs, letting your tongue flick out. He could feel the heat of your mouth seep through the material and he was losing his mind over the fact that only his briefs separated your mouth from his cock.
You peered up at him through your lashes, grabbing the band of his underwear to pull them down. You'd always been so reserved and controlled but the look on your face when you finally saw his cock had him fucking spiraling. Intimidation, thirst, determination.
With his pants and briefs pooled at his ankles, he guided you to take a hold of him. You obeyed, wanting to please him just as much as he pleased you. You pumped him slowly in your hand, loving how he felt in your fist.
"Your cock is so..."
Harry laughed, cupping your cheek and staring down at you expectantly. "What?"
"Pretty." It wasn't the word you were going for, but it wasn't the wrong word, either. He had a gorgeous cock, so thick and long. It was silky and hot and pulsed in your hand. You were impressed and intrigued.
"Pretty?" His voice was so soft as he regarded you.
"Yeah."
Pretty. He could deal with pretty. His thumb trailed across your lips. "Mm, and how's it taste?"
You pulled away marginally, grabbing his free hand and urging him to grab your hair in his tight first once more. You laid out your tongue and licked the tip of his dick, glistening with precum. You hummed at his taste and took him deeper, using your hand to spread your spit down his shaft.
Harry moaned deeply, taking a solid step forward so that you took more of him past your lips.
"Swallow me."
"Make me."
He narrowed his eyes at you, watching as you opened wide and held still, waiting for him to make you take it. With his hold on your hair, he guided you to swallow his cock. You were able to take about half, your hand working what you couldn't yet fit.
But he was helping you, not pushing you too far but doing it inch by inch. Your eyes began to water and you gagged when he pushed in deep. Your other hand was pressed against his thigh to keep yourself steady.
"Good girl." He praised, his voice low. "Take my cock so fucking well, don't you?"
He couldn't wrap his head around what was happening. He'd imagined this day far too many times to count, and it was always blurred by the unpleasant dynamic you two shared. But here you were, sucking him off after he'd made you explode around his fingers.
You loved having him down your throat. You enjoyed the challenge. He was so big and when you were able to take all of him, it was a feeling of satisfaction. He held you down until you were choking and your nose was buried in the hair around the base of his cock.
He wiped a tiny bit of smudged mascara from under your eye, admiring the blue of your eyeshadow and the colour of your lips as they wrapped around his cock. Fuck, he needed to be inside you. He was desperate for it.
He slipped you back onto the chair, angling you so that you were open to him. It happened so quickly and your mind was reeling at the sudden change. He was in full control and had no issue putting you where he wanted you. And you trusted him. He was so arrogant and you wanted to see if his bite was just as harsh as his bite. Considering the wet mess you'd made, it definitely was.
"Fuck, can't wait to feel you properly." He sighed, grabbing his cock at the base and running his tip between your legs.
Your gripped his arms, absentmindedly smoothing your fingers over some of his tattoos. "Beg me."
"What?" He raised a brow, his tone perplexed.
"Beg me to let you fuck me. You're an asshole, tell me you're sorry and beg me. Then I'll let you fuck me."
You didn't miss the way his cock throbbed when you called him an asshole, the flex in his jaw as he took in your words. Beg? Apologise?
He scoffed. "That's cute. As if you don't get so fucking wet when I'm an asshole to you. Just like how hard I get when you call me shit like that with that filthy mouth of yours."
You rolled your hips up, gripping his hip to pull him closer to you. "Please, baby. I wanna hear you beg."
The very tip of him slipped inside of you and you both moaned at the sensation. You were so wet and tight and he knew he could step forward and be inside you fully. But the expectant look you were giving him stopped him.
He gripped your throat, leaning down so he could bend over you. He gritted his teeth, his eyes hard on yours. "Please let me fuck you, sugar. Get you gushing on my cock over and over, fuckin' drown in your wet little pussy."
"Are you going to be nice?"
"But it's better when I'm mean." He crooned. "I'll make you take my cock, fuck you so hard, and won't stop until you cry."
Your eyes fluttered as he inched forward a little, sliding himself in further. The head of his cock was so snug inside of you and the way he stretched you had your toes curling. You brought your legs higher, hitching them up to his sides.
"Please," You mewled.
"Tell me, sugar." He needed to hear you say it. "Tell me you want me to fuck this dreamy cunt."
"Fuck me, Harry. Please."
"Hard?"
"Hard."
His hand tightened around your throat as he rolled his hips forward. He stretched you, so fucking big that he had to take his time to push past your tightness. His gaze narrowed as he pressed in tight, his hips flush against you. As he became fully buried inside of you, your vision tunneled on him and him only. On how good he felt, how his eyes were trained on yours.
He'd thought about what you'd look like stuffed full of his cock but he could never have imagined you being this perfect. Whimpering and moaning so fucking sweet while his hand was wrapped around your throat.
"Please move." You begged, feeling so overwhelmed with him being so thick inside of you but not moving.
He slowly retracted his hips, your pussy trembling to keep him there. He slowly pushed his hips forward again, groaning lowly as you clenched around him. He started out slow as first, wanting to ease you into it, his hands holding onto your sides. But you were desperate.
"You call that hard, baby?"
He shook his head, smiling at the bite in your tone. "You sure you can handle it?"
"What did I tell you about that ego of yours-"
He growled, seeing that you were toying with him again. He didn't want you to have the upper hand. So he started fucking you. Hard and relentless and strong. You cried out at his strength, his cock pumping against your g-spot so perfectly.
"Fuck yes, take my cock. Good fucking girl."
It was electrical. You were saturated from your orgasm he'd given you, he hit so deep, pushing against your front wall. He gripped your breasts, admiring as they bounced while he fucked you. He spat on them, unashamed in his desires to be so fucking dirty with you.
"Love your tits." He grunted. "Let me fuck them one day, sugar. Wanna see them fuckin' dripping in my cum."
"Yes, take whatever you want." You gasped.
You'd let him. He was cheeky and an asshole but he fucked you far better than anyone else ever could and he was just getting started. And you could find ways to keep his mouth busy when it started spouting nonsense.
"Yeah?" He hung over you, his curls dangling down. "Will you let me have you again, hm? Let me fuck your throat, your tight cunt, fuck- make you my plaything?"
"I want to be your plaything." You sighed, his necklace swinging in your face, glistening silver.
"You do, don't you? I'll have this pussy on my tongue while I memorise my script. Carry your panties around in my pocket and give them back to you when you've earned them."
The pressure was blinding and he brought your legs up over his shoulders so he could take you even harder. The legs of the chair scraped obnoxiously against the ground as he fucked you into it. He was brutal, making you take his cock with each harsh thrust.
You cried out, sobbing his name. He was so deep and you knew you'd be feeling him for days after. He picked you up, sitting you on the vanity. You leaned back against the mirror, icy against your back. He hauled your hips towards him, wrapping your legs around his waist.
He took his cock in his hand and fisted your hair with the other, holding you still so he could slide inside of you again. You clenched around him mercilessly, and he had to flex his hips harder so he could take you properly.
The vanity jolted on its legs under the force of him. Your hand wraps around his neck, trying to stabilise yourself against the onslaught of his thrusts.
"Call me an asshole again."
"Harry-" You jolted underneath him. "Fuck, you're an asshole."
"Yeah? Wanna hit me?"
"W-What?"
"Fucking do it. Slap me like I know you've been wanting to for the past six months."
Your hands clutched at his curls. Hitting him was the last thing on your mind right now while he was inside you. Until he'd brought it up, that is. You'd wanted to slap him on a daily basis and you wondered if he'd been reading your mind.
Mustering up courage enough to do so, you raised your hand and slapped his cheek. Not as hard as you could have, but the groan he emitted told you that you weren't gentle, either.
"So good." He grinned, his cheek reddening from your hand. You gripped his jaw harshly, licking your handprint before kissing him.
Your kisses moved to his neck and he tilted his head to give you more access to the skin. He flicked his eyes to his reflection in the mirror, finding his lustful expression, his cheek red, His eyes were alight with danger and arousal, driving his hips into you as he stared at himself. You moaned loudly as he pounded into you, unrelenting. Wanting you so out of it so that you could never look at him the same way again.
He imagined you looking at him during rehearsals, looking down at your Mary Janes with flushed cheeks. Your soft cadence as you asked him when he would fuck you next. Your surprised gasp when he'd pull you into a supply closet to fuck you hard and quick before anyone noticed your absence.
Just as you grew accustomed to the position, he flipped you, brushes and hair products flying off the top as you found balance on it. Your eyes met his in the mirror and they blazed through yours as he pushed himself into your warmth again.
"Fuck," He hissed, throwing his head back as you gripped him tightly. He held onto your shoulder and fucked you, near on slamming you into the furniture. His hand crept up to cup your throat, the other doing the same as he found a rhythm.
"Right there, don't stop." You gasped.
"Gonna think of this every time I'm in this room." He grunted. "Sit in that chair before a show and think about your perfect cunt around me. How you smile when I wrap my hands around your throat, how much you love having my cock to choke on."
"I want you to fuck me on this vanity every day, Harry."
"Every day, Sugar." He was breathless. "So much I wanna do to you. Play with you, make your pussy cream for me. Fuck, how did we go so long without this?"
He started using his height to his advantage, screwing down into you. You struggled to grasp clarity, your senses clouding as pleasure took over. His hands tightened around your throat and he took you harder when a ghost of a smile touched your lips.
He slipped two of his fingers in your mouth, hooking them into your cheek and pulling. He hissed at how fucking submissive you were and how you were willing to be just as dirty as him.
Letting go of your neck entirely, one hand moved to your hip and the other to your hair. He pulled you up, forcing you to look into the mirror.
"I'm an asshole but I fuck you good, don't I?"
You wanted to slap the smirk off his face. He could sense your annoyance at how cocky he was. He took you harder and you eyed him in the reflection, not wanting to give him an answer. And that didn't work for him.
He gripped your hair tight, pulling you back until his lips met your ear.
"Don't I?" He spat.
"Yes,"
He spanked your ass. Hard. Twice. "Yes, what?"
"Yes, you fuck me good."
Pleased, Harry reached in front of you, getting you to wet his fingers with your tongue before rubbing fast circles on your clit. Your legs turned to jelly, your body melting against him as he took you hard and played with your clit.
You felt the rush of pleasure wrap around you and grow in every nerve ending. He watched you in the mirror, intent on seeing you come again. He held you up while you writhed in his arms, his hips unyielding as he split you in half with his cock.
Your hands flew out, pushing various things off the vanity top as your orgasm barrelled towards you. Harry gritted his teeth, bending his knees to follow you as you moved so he could keep fucking you.
"You gonna come? Hm? Dirty fucking girl. Running around the studio with no panties on. This cunt was so wet for me from the start, wasn't it? Tiny dress, bossy little heels, and that fucking clipboard."
This climax was more intense than the first, but no less wet. You exploded around his cock, crying out his name before his hand came over your mouth to keep you quiet.
"Shhh. Good girl. Keep coming on my cock, don't stop, don't stop." He was feral at how good you felt around him, rubbing your clit until you were trembling at the overstimulation. His hips slowed, faltering. He was losing composure the tighter your pussy clenched around him.
He picked you up, not wasting any time in settling back on the small couch in the room. He laid flat on his back, while you straddled his hips. Your hands ran over his chest, nails digging into the skin as he gripped your ass and moved your hips.
His cock sat snuggly between your folds and you shamelessly rolled yourself along his length. You felt empty without him inside you and you lifted up, grabbing his length with a shaking hand, and slid him back into your warmth.
You both moaned out softly, his cock throbbing inside you. He could feel how close he was, as could you. Your hot and wet and dreamy cunt wasn't helping him stave it off. His vision was trained on you sitting on top of him like a fucking angel. Your tits, red from his teeth, your full hips, and your blissed-out expression.
He rolled his hips up softly, encouraging you to move. "Ride me, sugar."
You found a rhythm that had you shaking, so sensitive from your orgasms His cock pressed deliciously tight against your g-spot with every roll forward. With your hands flat on his chest, you started to bounce on him. You were so wet and the sound of it was making him crumble. The wet slaps and the way your pussy was drenching him.
His gaze met yours and he just about came. Your eyes lulled, cheeks flushed and your mouth agape as you fucked him. The most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He grabbed your tits, playing and pulling your nipples with deft fingers. He strained his neck, moaning as you picked up your pace.
You wanted him to finish. To feel the toe-curling euphoria he'd given you. The one given when a connection like the one you had was this electric.
"Ooh, shit. Just like that." He praised, squeezing your hips so hard you knew they'd bruise.
"Yeah? You love watching me bounce on your cock, don't you?"
You'd thrown his own tactic right back in his face. The sweet voice with the daring question. Of course, he loved it. He was addicted.
"Fuck yes."
Your hand trailed up, lightly wrapping around his throat. He could feel the rings he'd given you to wear against his skin and he snarled, holding your hips and screwing up into you, meeting your thrusts. Having you fuck him with your hand around his throat had him fucking spiraling into another dimension.
"You're close," You mewled, his cock throbbing hard inside you. "I can feel it."
"Yeah? Go on, make me cum. I'm gonna cum so fucking hard for you, sugar. Gonna fill you right up, fucking take it. Take all my cum- fuck."
He let you take him while his orgasm hit. It was white-hot intense, his grip on you not lessening as he moaned out your name. He pumped you full of his cum, the thick white ropes painting your walls. His brow turned down in the middle, his lips parted a little and you could see the whites of his teeth. The thick cords in his neck protruded under your hand.
He was stunning and animalistic and brazen, even in a time when one is most vulnerable.
The muscles and tendons in his arms flexed as he held you down on top of him, humming out lowly as the flames of his orgasm dimmed into embers.
And while neither of you was sure how it would feel post the explosion, you'd expected at the very least that it would be awkward. You didn't have the fondest attachment towards each other but fuck if you weren't addicted to each other's bodies now.
He sighed, reeling in his climax. His hands crawled up your sides, encasing you and encouraging you to come down to him. He hugged you, sighing in your neck before kissing the skin. You could hear a commotion in the hallway of the crew leaving and it suddenly sunk in that you'd just fucked your boss.
And neither of you could wait to do it again.
"Should we get out of here?" He asked after a few minutes.
"We?"
"Mm. Head back to mine if you want. Got the new Sam Cooke vinyl we can jam out to."
You grinned, trailing your finger along his lips. "Can we fuck again?"
His expression mirrored yours. "We are definitely fucking again. Don't have to be as quiet at mine, wanna hear how loud you get."
You rolled your hips, feeling his cock softening and his release beginning to trickle out of you. He hummed, squeezing you as if to warn you.
"Behave, sugar."
"But that's no fun."
He couldn't disagree with that. He checked the clock and knew there was only a slim window of time for you both to leave the studio without raising any brows.
"Come on." He slapped your ass. "Let's clean up and cut out."
You slipped into the bathroom, your legs shaky from how hard he'd taken you. You cleaned up, as he'd told you to. Your reflection in the mirror was a sight for sore eyes and you tried your best to look presentable and not freshly fucked.
As you entered the dressing room again and gathered your things. Harry had dressed in his more casual clothes, a pair of mint dress pants and a t-shirt, throwing his fur coat over his shoulders. He noticed the way you slipped on your dress and smoothed out your hair, touching up your lipstick. He approached you, wrapping his arms around you as you stood in front of the vanity.
"You know I'm just gonna get you all messy again, don't you?"
"I'm counting on it."
He smirked, kissing your neck and fisting the hem of that tiny dress. You pulled away, eyeing the time. You bent over, going to pick up your panties and frowning when he snatched them up before you could.
"Hey, I need those."
"What'd I say, hm? You'll get them back when you earn them." He slipped the blue lace in his pants pocket, straightening his fur coat and holding out his hand.
"Jerk." You walked towards him, nudging his hand away and leaving the dressing room. A showcase that the feisty dynamic between you was here to stay. The lights were off in the studio now, aside from a few dim ones high up on the walls. He scoffed, racing after you. He lagged behind a few steps, wanting to watch your legs as you walked. You turned, throwing him a dubious look and he smiled innocently as he was caught checking you out. "What are you-"
A gleam of a security guard's flashlight lit up the wall next to you. Harry swore, pulling you towards the exit before you were spotted. You wouldn't get in trouble per se, but being sneaky was so much more exciting than sticking around.
"Shit- let's haul ass, sugar. Wanna play with you all night."
The warmth and adoration he felt on stage, under those lights with every pair of eyes set on him. It was a dimmed sensation compared to how he felt with you. His sugar. Saccharine yet equally as fervent, gooey and thrilling and sticking to him as if magnetised to his cells.
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles filth#harry styles one shot#harry styles smut#smut#hes#anon#hs#hslot
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lace (grumpy!h)
in which Harry is grumpy and mean to Y/N, who's just shy and trying to get through the day, and they're both teaching assistants for the same class.
word count: 4.9k
content warnings/author's notes: h being a dick, grumpy h x soft girl trope <;3 part two will be posted a week from today!
masterlist | talk to me |
part two | part three
Y/N thinks Harry hates her.
Which is kind of silly, really, because they didn't even know each other prior to being assigned as teaching assistants to the same literary seminar. They roam in two completely different circles and never would have crossed paths if not for the fact that Y/N is an English major and Harry got an A- in the course last year.
Y/N's initially really excited that Professor Donnolly asked her to be one of her TAs. At their first one-on-one meeting together, she lets Y/N know that there will be one other TA this semester since it's such a large class, but this isn't concerning to her. She's quiet and introverted and an expert at keeping to herself, and she's far more focused on helping students in the seminar and building up her resume.
So, she's generally pretty careless about the whole thing until Harry strolls in on the first day. He's dressed in all black, a tattered band tee decorating his torso, inky tattoos covering his arms, and a coffee in hand. He doesn't even have a backpack with him, which Y/N finds weird — she'd spent the previous night printing out worksheets and contact information for her batch of students, all of which were neatly filed in a folder in her bag.
He plops down next to her at the front of the lecture hall and pulls his phone out. Y/N isn't typically very nosey, but she can't help that as she sits there, anxiously awaiting for the class to begin, she notices just about 20 missed texts lighting up his screen. She doesn't think she receives that many messages in a week.
Because she's shy, she's hesitant to introduce herself, but maybe he doesn't realize there's another TA for the course despite sitting down right next to her. So she clears her throat and nervously picks at a loose string on her knitted cardigan before mustering up the courage to say something.
"Hi," her voice is scratchy since it's the first time she's said anything all morning, aside from ordering an iced vanilla latte at the on-campus cafe, "I'm Y/N. Are you the other TA for this semester?"
Harry peers up at her with a glaring look. His eyes are so piercing that it almost makes her jump under his gaze.
"Yeah, I'm Harry. Please don't continue this conversation, I'm hungover."
Y/N's jaw snaps closed at his bluntness, a warm blush encasing her entire body. She's so embarrassed that it physically hurts — and it's enough of a reason to stay quiet every time she sees Harry, twice a week at the seminar.
Weeks go by and nothing changes, the pair seemingly fine with their lack of verbal communication. Every now and then they'll have to physically interact, whether it be passing papers or the one time Harry held the door open for Y/N when they were leaving the lecture hall. She's surprised he didn't purposely slam it in her face.
She'll admit, it bothers her just a tad, but it's just another facet of her personality — an incessant need to people-please — that she scribbles down in her planner as a reminder to bring up in therapy sometime soon.
On Tuesday after class has ended, she's packing up her things, her back to Harry when Professor Donnolly strolls over to their table, the sound of her pumps clacking against the tiled floor.
"Harry, Y/N, are you two available right now?"
In any other instance, Y/N would find a reason to be busy — her social battery is drained from today's workshopping class, where she went around discussing thesis statements with her assigned group of students — but this TA gig matters to her, especially after she did some online digging on Professor Donnolly and found out she has connections at multiple publishing firms Y/N could only dream of working at. So she sucks it up and bears herself for whatever her presence is needed for, even if it means being around Harry.
"I'm free," Y/N replies and Harry grunts out some form of affirmative answer.
"Great!" Donnolly claps her hands together, "So listen, I'm seriously behind in going through these outlines and they need to be graded and handed back by Thursday's class. Do you guys think you could make a dent in the stack this afternoon? You could use my office while I teach this next lecture."
The thought of sitting in an office alone with Harry sounds absolutely humiliating, but to her surprise, he's the one that agrees to it before she even has a chance to run it through her brain. She zones out while Donnolly hands Harry the keys to her office, providing instructions on where the papers and rubric are, before he's turning on his heel and heading in the direction of the English department. Y/N scrambles and throws her bag over her shoulder, her chunky oxfords squeaking as she rushes to catch up to Harry.
"You don't have to join me," Harry grumbles once she finally reaches him so they're walking side by side, "I'm perfectly capable of grading these outlines by myself."
With a wrinkle in her brow, Y/N hugs her backpack strap closer to her body. "She asked both of us, so I'm helping."
"Yeah, but she doesn't have to know if you duck out to do whatever shit you do in your free time. Volunteering with the elderly or summat."
He mutters the last part under his breath, but Y/N hears it. Pain quickly zips through her stomach but it's gone just as quickly as it entered.
"I don't volunteer with the elderly," is her final comeback, albeit mumbled as they reach Donnolly's office. Harry stuffs the key in the lock and twists the door open before flicking the lights on and zeroing in on the stack of papers on her desk.
"Right, well, you act like a fuckin' church mouse, so apologies if my assumptions are a bit off."
Y/N huffs and drops her bag on the cushiony couch. She doesn't even know Harry, so what gives him the right to talk about her like that?
"You're the one that told me not to talk to you on the first day," Y/N says pointedly, walking over to where he stands with the papers in hand, "I'm only doing what you asked of me. And don't call me a church mouse, you don't know anything about me."
She snatches the folder from him and halves the papers as he cackles from above. She can't help but notice that he towers over her, and it makes her swallow nervously.
"You took that seriously? Jesus, you need to lighten up. Haven't you ever been hungover before?"
Y/N rolls her eyes as she sits down on the couch, folding her legs so her skirt doesn't ride up. She digs in her bag for her favorite red pen, fetching it from her pouch of writing utensils.
"Oh wait, you probably haven't. Because you're a church mouse."
Y/N grits her teeth. She's never had someone care to provoke her this much and it's so annoying. Harry is so annoying!
"Can you please stop?" She says softly, removing the cap from her pen. "You don't have to be mean to me just because you don't like me."
"How do you know whether I like you or not?" Harry scoffs as he sits down at Donnolly's desk, "I don't even know you."
Y/N has to admit, that one hurts. So instead of responding, she swallows the lump forming in her throat and starts to read over Amanda Mai's outline.
Harry doesn't bother her again that day. In fact, he doesn't even say goodbye when he's done.
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The following weeks go similarly.
Donnolly stops them both after class with some ask of grading papers or outlines or otherwise, claiming that she thinks they work well together, which Y/N thinks is some cruel joke from the universe. Every time her and Harry walk the familiar route to her office in silence, she wonders what she did wrong in her life and what bullshit karma she's on the receiving end of.
At a certain point, she wonders if someone has made a voodoo doll of her just to torture her, especially when she thinks Harry's finally skipping one of their grading sessions together, only to find his tongue down some sorority girl's throat. He nearly pushes the girl off of him when he notices Y/N's unintentionally interrupted their makeout session. She holds back a snicker when she hears the girl ask what his problem is as she unlocks the door.
"Gotta go," Harry tells the girl lowly, brushing past her to follow Y/N into the office. The girl garbles out a surprised "what?" just as Harry's shutting the door and plopping down at Donnolly's desk chair.
It's quiet for a moment and Y/N debates saying anything, knowing that however she chooses to approach the situation — whether she ignore the confused, pissed off girl outside or comment on Harry's apparent distaste for her — he'll dole out some rude response.
She rolls her lips into her mouth as she passes him his half of the papers, eventually settling on, "You probably shouldn't bring your girlfriend to your job. It's unprofessional, I think, and you both could've gotten in trouble."
Harry chuckles dryly and Y/N immediately regrets her decision.
"Mind your business, little mouse." he mutters, but not before he utters something out under his breath. "She's not my girlfriend either."
Y/N nods slowly and lowers her eyes to the assignment in front of her. Today, they're working on editing the first drafts of the class' papers, which is guaranteed to take hours. She grimaces as she reads over Ty Baker's introduction, realizing that she has a hefty load of grading ahead of her.
When she pulls out her pencil case from her bag, she hears Harry scoff from across the room. Mentally, she hopes it's due to the poor writing he's reading, but she knows she's wrong.
"Do you always wear shit like that?" he sneers. A hot flush instantly pulverizes her body, making her feel embarrassed and self-conscious within seconds.
She doesn't reply, but of course — of course — Harry continues.
"I mean, seriously, how old are you? 23? 24? And you come to campus in little skirts and cardigans and those stupid Doc Martens. Are you trying to look half your age?"
Y/N swallows harshly, attempting to focus on the words on the page. If she ignores him, he'll stop eventually. Harry thrives on her attempting to fight back.
"Are you even gonna defend yourself?" Harry spits, leaning back in Donnolly's chair, "Kind of pathetic, really—"
Y/N's head snaps up, tears blurring her vision. She sniffles and looks at him, the embarrassment now overwhelming when his face falls, realizing that he's made her cry.
"Please stop," Y/N says in a watery voice, "You're just being mean."
Harry stares her down with low eyes, his raspberry lips slighted parted. She can feel his intimidating gaze even as she tries to redirect her attention back to Ty's draft, attempting to blink the salty tears away. She thinks she's made it through until a shudder racks through her body, a sad and involuntary quiver sounding from her chest.
The room is dead silent so she knows Harry hears it, and she wants nothing more than to dig a hole in the ground and bury herself alive. It would be better than having to face the fact that Harry made her cry over rude comments.
She braces herself for another tongue lashing but instead, he stands from the desk, grabs his things, and rushes out of the room, leaving Y/N sitting on the couch by herself with tear-stained cheeks.
She wonders if she's ever been this embarrassed before in her life.
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Y/N spends the weekend wondering if she can ask Donnolly to transfer her to another section.
As she cuddles with her kitten, Ginger, on the couch, binge-watching episode upon episode of Love Island, she contemplates how to approach the situation.
"Ging, what do you think I should do?" she murmurs to the orange cat perched on her thighs, "He's kind of awful and he's so mean to me, I don't understand why. I never see him act that way with anyone else. I don't think I did anything to him."
Ginger meows.
"Okay, meow again if you think I should try to move to Donnolly's other seminar."
The kitten jumps off her legs and traipses to her food bowl. Y/N lets out a sigh and falls to the side face-first into a mess of throw pillows.
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On Tuesday morning, Harry is tired.
He stayed up way too late last night and Jenna wouldn't stop blowing up his phone, wondering where he was over the weekend and asking if he wanted to come over and hookup.
(It was a Monday for Christ's sake, and she clearly couldn't take a hint — if he hadn't replied to her last five texts, why on earth would he want to go and get his dick wet now?
He realizes that he's done worse, so he takes it back.)
He typically spends his weekends ambling through parties and bars with his mates. Jenna is just one of his current and most reliable hookups, and he clearly made a mistake by tonguing her in public last week while he waited for Y/N to unlock Donnolly's office. It had been a spur of the moment rendezvous — Jenna happened to be walking through the English department just as Harry was, and she surged towards him for a kiss that quickly grew to a heated makeout once she stuck her tongue in his mouth.
Harry was weak and rarely one to turn down a midday hookup, but the second he heard Y/N's clunky footsteps (those Doc Marten oxfords she wore were a dead giveaway), he tore apart from Jenna.
Because of their public snog session, he assumes that she thinks their arrangement is something more. And she couldn't be more wrong, because ever since Thursday afternoon, all he's been able to think about is Y/N.
He doesn't even know why. She's quiet and shy and the complete opposite of any girl he's ever been attracted to. She rarely even fights back when he tries to rile her up, which he thought would be fun, but then he went and made her fucking cry last week and now he feels like the worst person to walk the planet.
In hindsight, Harry knows he was a fucking dick to her on Thursday. He doesn't know what it is about her, but it annoys him that she's so shy. She's smart and pretty and sweet and he doesn't know why she doesn't see that, instead opting for quietness and soft smiles and a constant hope that no one will notice her.
Harry very much notices her, and it makes him grumpy.
So on Tuesday morning, he decides that he's going to attempt to make it up to her. He can't promise that he won't be rude, but when he makes his daily stop at his favorite coffee shop, he orders his own drink and hers, an iced vanilla oat milk latte. He hopes that she also didn't grab one before class but figures that at the very least, the effort would be appreciated. Maybe.
And Harry is actually kind of... nervous as he strolls into the lecture hall. He usually arrives a minute or two before class starts but today he's a whopping 10 minutes early, giving tight smiles to the students that wave hello to him. He's surprised that Y/N isn't there yet though he's never been this early before — maybe she likes to get there with five minutes to spare, even if she strikes him as an obsessively early type of person.
His eyebrows furrow when Donnolly enters the room and greets Harry with a grin, setting her things up at the podium. Clearing his throat, he tries to seem as normal as possible as he glances at the clock at the back of the hall.
"Where's Y/N?" he asks, turning to look at Donnolly.
The professor glances down at Harry, who's sitting at the TA table, his leg bouncing. He's clutching his own coffee cup and Y/N's is next to him, but now the plastic cup is beading with condensation and sweating onto the wooden desk.
"She's not feeling well today," Donnolly replies casually, her eyes peering over to the extra coffee on the table, "She said she'll try to make it to grading this afternoon, but I told her that wouldn't be necessary if she needs time to rest."
Harry coughs awkwardly and nods, ignoring the pang of guilt zip through his heart.
Donnolly purses her lips before clearing her throat and typing something on her laptop. "You have her number, right? I haven't had a chance to check on her but I want to make sure she's doing alright. Would you mind?"
"I don't have her number, no."
She hums and nods, "I just emailed it to you."
Harry goes to reply, but Donnolly is already clapping her hands to announce the start of class.
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Harry can't stop staring at Y/N's phone number.
At this point, he knows he's being a total and utter weirdo. Donnolly gave it to him to check on her, but instead of texting her, he opens her email and stares at the 10 digits until they blur together. He types it in his phone twice but can't decide on what to say. He knows it doesn't have to be a big deal — he's never been this stressed over having a girl's number before! And besides the fact, this isn't even that kind of deal, it's Y/N.
Silly, stupid Y/N, who he can't stop thinking about, who he feels bad for being mean to, who he wishes came to class today so he could give her her dumb iced latte but instead had to throw out the melted, watered down beverage.
He doesn't text her, but he does the next logical step of looking her up on social media. Of course, her Instagram profile is on private and she hasn't posted on Twitter in five years. He tries to find any public trace of her online only to come up empty, so he groans and leans back against his pillows, pulls up the empty text thread and pastes her number in.
It takes him four rewrites and 10 minutes of agony to finally land on: Hey. Donnolly asked me to see how you're doing.
Harry wants to throw his phone across the room but he resists, instead clutching it tightly in his palm. It buzzes a moment later and he nearly yelps to see her number on his screen.
who is this?
"Oh my god," he grunts, slapping a hand over his forehead, "I didn't even say it was me!"
Grumbling, he quickly types back. It's Harry. She said you weren't feeling well.
He keeps the text thread up and watches as the speech bubble appears, then fades away. It happens three times before she replies.
yea I have a migraine. im fine thanks
Harry swallows. His mouth dries as he tries to figure out how he can continue the conversation but she's really not giving him anything to go off of. He can't say he blames her, though.
Do you need anything?
Again, the three dots pop up on his screen and disappear twice more.
no thank you
This time, he replies quickly: Do you think you'll be able to attend class on Thursday? If not, I can bring you the papers you have left to grade so you don't fall too behind.
He figures that's a decent response — maybe one that warrants more than three words, and he even wonders if it portrays his attempt to patch things up.
if i need anything im capable of doing it myself.
Harry sighs and locks his phone. He definitely deserves this.
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On Thursday, Y/N doesn't show up to class again.
And at this point, Harry is ready to call her up or text her, or even email her to demand some answers. He's not sure what answers he's looking for — she said she had a migraine on Tuesday, but how could she still be dealing with it two days later? — but he's annoyed that she's not here.
When class is over, Donnolly wordlessly hands her keys to him. He flashes her a tight small, dumps the rest of his coffee, and walks the short distance to her office, stewing in his anger. Had he really been that mean? He didn't think so; he knew he was a dick and yeah, he still regrets making her cry, but was it worth missing two days of class? She'll be so behind in grading, what's the point in even being a teaching assistant if she's just going to—
Harry's face wrinkles in confusion when he approaches the small office space, noticing that the lamp is already on, radiating a warm glow from the corner. The door is unlocked, too, which Donnolly never does.
"Go fuckin' figure," he mutters to himself, prepared to have to deal with some sort of English department break-in, when he pushes the door open to find Y/N inside, sprawled out across the blue velvet sofa with her pink cardigan bunched up over her eyes.
He's immediately perplexed, and he wouldn't know it's Y/N if not for those clunky Doc Martens on her feet. Instead of her usual Levi jeans or rotation of mini skirts, she's wearing leggings and a baggy t-shirt over her form, her hair tied up and flopped over her head.
He can't tell if she's awake or not, so he very quietly shuts the door behind him. Her lips part and she takes a deep breath, her hand flying up to her temples with a wince.
"Y/N?" Harry whispers, dropping Donnolly's keys on her desk.
"Leave me alone," she croaks, "Everything hurts, just shut up. Please."
Harry smiles gently as she tacks on a please at the end of her request. Something about her delicate state is very sweet, but it's quickly replaced with concern as he kneels down next to the couch.
"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, fingers itching to move the cardigan covering her face.
"No."
"What's the matter?"
"Migraine."
"Why are you on campus, then?"
"Stop asking me questions."
He does, allowing her to ruminate in the silence as he decides what he should do. It's but a minute or two more before she slowly moves the cardigan down her face, revealing tired, squinty eyes that stare up at Harry.
"I've missed two days of classes and I didn't want to miss anymore. I came to campus this morning and I couldn't even make it through my first one. Donnolly said I could rest in here."
"All from a migraine?" Harry presses, a bemused expression on his face.
"Yes. I get them from stress."
It's the most that she's spoken to him in days and he chalks it up to her disoriented nature. Her hair is a mess and her eyes are bleary, fatigue and pain apparent in her every move.
"Do you want to go home?" he asks. He doesn't know much about migraines, but his sister gets them sometimes and she always complains about his voice being too loud. He tries to keep his questions at minimal volume, teetering just above a whisper.
"Yeah, but I don't have a car and it's too bright outside to walk."
"I can drive you," Harry murmurs without a second thought, "My car is in the building lot."
"Isn't that a faculty lot?"
He rolls his eyes, "Are you really gonna harp on that right now?"
Y/N doesn't reply to this, instead trying her best to sit up, only to be met with a painful recoil. Harry jumps to keep her stable, his hands stretching out to steady her arms and keep her upright.
"Sorry," he quickly mutters, "Don't want you to pass out on me."
She nods, and that's how Harry knows she must be really sick. He scrambles up and digs his car keys out of his pocket, then grabs his sunglasses dangling from his tee-shirt.
"Here, you can wear these."
Y/N doesn't reply and his shoulders droop in concern, carefully reaching forward to place them over her eyes.
"Don't tell me if I look dumb." she mumbles, making him laugh.
"You don't. You look quite sweet, actually."
He ignores the compliment that seems to fall from his lips effortlessly, instead choosing to focus on getting her home safely. Harry grabs her backpack and swings it over his shoulder, "Do you need help getting up?"
With squinted eyes, Y/N looks up at him, nodding once. She looks so sad and it kills him, mumbling out an "alright" as he reaches his hands out to help her stand. Once she's on her feet, she's capable of moving on her own, clutching her soft cardigan in arms. He doesn't want to touch her any more without her permission, especially if she hates him as much as she acts. He may be a dick, but he'd never intentionally try to make her feel uncomfortable when she's in such a vulnerable state.
Together, they walk out of the building and to the parking lot, where Harry's navy sedan is parked. He wants to make a joke about her pointing out that yes, technically he left his car in the faculty lot, but she just looks so exhausted that he doesn't have it in him. Gently, he guides her to the passenger's side and unlocks the car, making sure that she gets in safely. When she does, he rushes around the vehicle, placing her bag in the backseat and starting the car.
"Where do you live, Y/N?" Harry asks quietly. She looks over at him in his black Ray Bans and a small smile quirks at his lips. He knows she would never be caught dead in this style of sunglass, but for the time being, he wants to take a picture on his phone so he never forgets the way she looks.
"On Maple." she grunts out as she tucks her arms into her cardigan. It's the end of summer, slowly crawling towards fall, but the daily temperature is still quite warm. He frowns and lowers the air.
"Do you have a roommate that can take care of you?"
"I live alone."
His frown deepens at this as he pulls out of the parking lot and down the road. Yes, they're in grad school, both fully capable adults, but she has to get lonely living by herself, didn't she? He's never seen her out at bars or parties, and if stress migraines are a persistent thing in her life, how does she typically get through them alone?
Harry lives a few streets over from Maple so he knows how to get there. She makes some grumbly noise to let him know that he's reached their destination, so he parks outside and turns the car off.
"I'll walk you in, if that's alright," Harry says. She pauses as she undoes her seatbelt, taking a moment to glance at him through the dark sunglasses.
"Okay. But only because I need you to carry my bag in and make sure I don't puke on the way to my bed."
"Sure," he murmurs, making quick work to follow her inside. He realizes he must look ridiculous, dressed in all black with her pastel pink bag looped over his shoulder.
Y/N's house is very... Y/N. He's not sure what he expected since he's never really wondered about her living conditions, but the one-bedroom apartment is small and cozy, filled with art and plants and candles. Her favorite colors — or what Harry assumes to be her favorites — are constant threads throughout the home, accents of light pink and forest green dancing through her kitchen on mugs and in her living room on throw blankets and pillows. She has a large vase of sunflowers on her coffee table and a sting forms somewhere in his body, wondering if someone — a romantic someone — gave them to her.
Harry notices a small cat toddle towards her, instantly pawing at her shoes as she kicks them off.
"Not now, Ging," Y/N mumbles, "Love you bunches, but 'm still sick."
"Ging?" Harry asks as he gently places her bag on the velvet green armchair in her living room. He picks the tiny kitten up and strokes the white patch on its head.
"Short for Ginger," she replies, turning to look at him. Her eyebrows raise behind the sunglasses when she sees that Ginger is already in Harry's arms, purring away at his pets. If she wasn't in so much pain, she would roll her eyes at the little traitor. "Um... I'm just gonna go upstairs and change and go to bed."
Harry nods, "Do you need anything?"
If she's being honest, Y/N hates going through migraines alone. She can't do anything by herself and she feels far more isolated and lonely than usual. In college, her roommate, Kelsey, was helpful and understanding, but Kelsey moved across the country after graduation. Besides her parents, Y/N doesn't have anyone else to help her in times of need like this.
"Yeah," she finally sighs, much to both her and Harry's surprise, "Can you... just stick around for a little? It's fine if you have things to do, but migraines give me a lot of anxiety and I... it helps to have someone here. Also, Ginger is lonely."
"Well, if Ginger needs company, then I'm more than happy to stay."
It's the first time he's ever made Y/N smile.
Read part two here :) | Read part three here :)
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Please…Mr. Ghostface
[ A/n ] - please be warned this is 18+ but please enjoy : )
[ Pairing ] - Boyfriend!Harry x Reader!
[ Genre ] - smut
Y/n comes home to a gift wrapped box from Harry and what’s inside might be worth a scream or two
[ Masterlist ]
“Don’t move another inch.” Harry sat at the edge of the bed with his hands resting between his spread knees. He stared at you through the mesh of the mask he wore. It was his idea. Role play was never your thing but if the masks had anything to do with it you could get into it.
“Get down, on your knees.” His voice was so strong. So deep like he was speaking with lust behind every word. You came into the bedroom after your shower thinking you were going to be getting ready for dinner. You we’re instead greeted with a pristine white box with a note written on top.
“Crawl for me.”
When you opened the box all you found was a brand-new lingerie set. The Lacey bra on the top. And the lacy bottoms on the second layer. And the mask sat underneath the last layer of parchment paper. You took in a sharp breath as you lifted it up and read the second note attached “I’ll be ready for you, and I want you to be ready for me.”
“Yes, Mr. Ghostface.”
You had to stop yourself from moaning audibly when you saw him sitting waiting for you to get ready. Dressed in all black clothes that you set out for him to wear to dinner. A black button down that hugged his arms exactly right when he had the sleeves rolled up like you like. Exposing his tattoos that you were running your hands over right now as you sat panting at his feet. Black slacks held up by a glossy black belt that were tight around his thighs and of course we can’t forget the mask. His cherry on top that you couldn’t wait to pop. It took everything in him to keep composure as he watched you crawl across the floor for him. Your ass looks impeccable in the black lace and the bra fit your tits perfectly.
Harry almost let out a whine because of the look you were giving him. Your perfect little face perched on his thigh. Your fingers danced around his belt buckle. Your eyes looked at him like you were asking permission. He nodded up and down letting you know it was okay. A deep sigh left his lips as you unbuckled and unzipped his pants. His dick had been growing in his pants since he saw you dressed in the doorway.
Your hands were warm as they reached past the waist band of his boxer briefs. You were practically drooling when you took it out of the confines. He was pretty and his dick was nothing less. A long shaft and pink as his lips at the tip.
“Fuck.” He couldn’t keep it in the anticipation was too much. Harry let out a strangled moan as you kissed the tip. You smirked as you slicked a strip up from the base to the tip leaving another kiss at the tip. “Fuck, baby.” Harry said as you palmed him in your hands.
He groaned as you bobbed your head. You pull off with a soft popping sound. Tilting your head to the side you lick up the side of his member. As you reach the top you look up to meet Harry’s gaze. His eyes were hidden but that didn’t stop you from looking though. He was so handsome. You imagined how His eyelashes would dance across his cheeks as his pupils darted back and forth even when his eyes were closed. Even when his expression was impossible to see you could tell he was enjoying himself from the moaned he let sip freely from his lips. Feeling a little bold you took him in your mouth again. You bobbed your head again and you took him as far as you could.
“Fuck baby, just like that.” Harry moved his hands down to your head. He wrapped his hand in to your hair as you lowered your mouth on to him. As he hit the back of your throat you gagged causing him to moan.
“Oh, that’s it. Keep going.”
You gagged around his cock once more and then lifted your head. You release your mouth around the tip with a pop. Looking up at Harry you tilt your head and kiss the wrist of the hand that was retreating from your hair. A smile briefly crosses his lips, and they bump against the mask. It took you no time at all to resume bobbing your head up and down his length. You lifted up to kiss the tip and then went down to suck on his balls. You gotta stop.
“Stop, Stop!” Harry put some feeling into his voice as he gripped your wrist to stop you from stroking his dick.
“I have so much more planned for you darling.” Harry stood and looked at you from the ground; he reached out and caressed your face with his fingers.
“Over there, y/n” Harry nodded over to the dresser where he wanted to have you. He spoke like he was commanding you and all you wanted was to obey. You looked at him from your spot on the bedroom floor. You stood before him in nothing but your bra and underwear set. When you moved, Harry moved as well. The two of you were in perfect sync. He stood close and his breath hit the edge of the mask making a menacing sound as he loomed over your face as if he was going to kiss you. You looked deep into the dark pits of the mask trying to see his eyes. His hand slipped around your neck. Your breath cut short, and a soft whine left your lips as you stared into the mask.
“Who do you belong to?”
His voice was unwavering as he spoke to you. You couldn’t help but smirk as he tightened his grip on you and squeezed your neck a bit harder. Your lips parted and your jaw loosened as his grip hardened.
“Don’t make me ask twice, baby you know I hate that. A good slut uses her words.”
The silence in the room built up and it scratched at Harry’s brain as he watched you. Tears welled up in your eyes and your hand reached up to rest on top of his. His hand fell from your neck, and you took a sharp breath. You had made a mistake. Looking away from him and leaving the smirk on your face pulled him back into the moment.
A hard smack met your ass cheek, the flesh stung. With one hand on your hip and one on your shoulder he moved you, so you were bent over the dresser. His hands moved to grip your hands and hold them behind your back. That mask was something else. Transforming your loving man into a domination machine. Harry huffed as he bent over to speak in your ear. He lifted his head and yours, so you were looking at each other. Your hair fell into your eyes a bit, but you focused enough to see the reflection.
“Are you going to behave now?” He chuckled as you whined again.
“Yes” your chest was pressed into the wood of the dresser as Harry pinned you down with his weight. Your deep breaths made your cleavage rise and fall dramatically. Harry tilted his masked face as he spoke again.
“Yes what?” His voice was firm and rough as he pressed into your back. You moaned as he grinded himself against you.
“Yes…Mr. Ghostface”
A smile etched its way across Harry’s lips under the mask after hearing you. With his own leg he kicked your legs apart. Sitting up harry laced his fingers under the fabric of your underwear. He tugged and pulled at the clothing until they fell down on your legs just enough to expose you.
“Please.” You cried out. Harry could see you were getting desperate, so he glided his fingers close to your clit without touching it. You squirmed trying to get him to touch you were you wanted but this wasn’t about you right now. He wanted to see how far he could push you. See how much you would put up with.
“Shh, just relax.” Harry spoke low as he lifted a hand and rubbed lightly against your back. You shivered as his fingers danced across the skin and then you felt two of his fingers slipping against you just past your nerves. They stretched into you, and you moaned so softly that Harry barely heard it.
You were heating up if you were being honest with yourself. A pit formed in your lower stomach and his teasing was doing nothing but making it ache. Something about the mask and how he was roughly handling you sent shockwaves through your body. You were bent over the dresser with your bra on and your underwear halfway down your legs and your boyfriends’ fingers inside of you. Moving his hand, Harry eased his middle finger inside you again. You felt him pump them in and out over and over. The slickness between your thighs spreading as the anticipation caught up to you. You laid your face down on the cool wood of the dresser as you waited for what was to come next.
“Stand up for me.” You sighed as you felt his fingers leave you, but you obeyed. Standing up you looked at yourself in the mirror. Sweat began to form on your temples and on your chest but before you could say anything harry was whipping you around to face him. He stood so tall in front of you. You trembled with excitement as he lowered onto his knees in front of you and moved to grip your calf. After removing your underwear Harry lifted one of your legs over his shoulder. It had to be a sin the way you almost melted at the sight of him in that position. Fingers glistening still from being inside you and your leg resting on his shoulder as he wore that black and white mask. Harry wasted no time in lifting your other leg to rest on his other shoulder as well. Did he know you would be able to stand once he was finished with you?
“Here let me help.” You reached down between your legs and lifted his mask so that his mouth was free. You were met with a menacing smile and a kiss to your wrist.
“The things that I am going to do to you, baby.” Harry breathed out against your navel. His fingers gripped the flesh of your thighs, and they wandered lower until he got to the place you needed him. Your breaths were uneven as you anticipated what he would do. Harry pushed the mask out of the way giving him a nice view of you. He spread your lips apart with his middle and index finger. A moan escaped your perfectly shaped lips when you felt his slender fingers, he glided a finger over your clit working you up and you tilted your head back in pleasure. He poked his tongue out and licked at you causing you to take in a sharp breath. Harry took that a sign to keep going and began to suck you into his mouth and prod at you until you were a mess underneath him. Your eyes flutter closed when Harry sucked particularly hard.
“Oh god.” You moaned out. Your face flushing as Harry continued, licking from your entrance to your clit. He teased you like this until you couldn’t keep still. A knot formed in your belly. Harry finally gave in and sucked your clit into his mouth swiping his tongue over the sensitive spot till you were panting like you just ran a marathon. The warmth you felt as Harry’s tongue was on you was incredible. You bucked your hips into his face as he sucked your clit into his mouth once more. His lips pulsing around the nerves making you cry out.
“Please Mr. Ghostface.”
Your hands tugged mercilessly at his mask. Harry moved one hand and used two fingers to help bring you to your release as he hummed against your clit. Harry thought that the two of you could stay like this forever. Pleasuring one another until all the time in the world was exhausted and nothing was left but the pair of you. Harry was everything to you and you would do anything for him but right now in this moment with your man between your thighs sending you to another dimension with his tongue you knew he would do anything for you.
“Mmm��” Harry let out a loud groan when you tugged on the exposed strands of his hair. A smirk shaped your face as you looked down to see two eyes staring back at you. He smirked and sucked your cum off his fingers. Harry’s eyes bared a challenging glance as he stood up. His hands returned to your thighs, and he held you close as you lowered the mask back down. You rested your hands behind his neck, and he pulled you away from the dresser.
Harry crossed the bedroom in just seconds. Long legs striding across the ground until the two of you reached his desired destination. The first thing that was remedied was your bra. After tossing you into the mattress he reached behind you with one hand and undid the clasp expertly. Harry to a second to appreciate how lucky he was to have you so gloriously naked in front of him.
“I need to fix this.” Harry spoke while you looked up at him from your spot on the bed. You weren’t sure what he meant until he moved you himself. His hands were rough has he flipped you over and pulled your hips up. You heard shuffling behind you and felt the mattress dip as Harry took the spot behind you. His slacks were pushed down just below his bottom and his shirt was unbuttoned allowing his skin to press directly into yours. A moan left both of in unison as he rubbed his tip along your slit and rubbed your clit with the end of his length. Your hips twisted as he kept rubbing against you. And then Harry thrusted in with no mercy. His hand was pressing to your back to deepen the arch.
“Ohm shit, right there.” You whined. Harry grunted and shifted his hips. He would be damned if you were going to do this to him. He picked up the pace and began drilling into you. Felling your stomach get tight you reached back to find your clit, but Harry slapped it away with his. You felt his fingers find your clit and rub into it.
“Fuck Harry, I want to cum so bad.” Harry immediately stopped. His hips stilled and his finger froze.
“What did you just say?”
“Please…Mr. Ghostface.”
“that’s what I though.” It was as though he went into hyper drive. His fingers and hips resumed in double time and your body began slipping forward. Harry abandoned your clit to yank you hips back in place. You practically screamed as his pace didn’t slow. “Come for me baby.” He said in your ear and instantly your body shuddered as your orgasm hit you. Having not cum yet Harry continued to thrust into you.
“Please…it’s too much.” You whined. At this point Harry was just chasing his own orgasm. His hips kept ramming into yours as he sank in and out. One hand left your hip and snatched the mask off his head, and it landed on the pillow beside your head.
“I’m almost done princes.” Harry forced out. You moaned in response as his thrusts fell out of rhythm. A second orgasm close because of the over-stimulation. You tightened your core and Harry moaned at the feeling.
His body slid down on top of you, and you tried turning to face him. Harry graciously leaned back and maneuvered your legs so he could see your face. There he was in all his glory leaning over you. Looking into your eyes he smirked and kissed your lips softly. You giggle as some of his hair fell in your face. His hands trailed up your body and he placed a Kiss to your nipple. You keen into Harry’s touch as he brushes his thumb across the other one grazing your nipple. You grind your hips into his to create friction between yourselves. Your actions elect a soft groan from Harry. Pulling him closer you moaned something incoherent into his ear.
“W-what?” Harry says as he slowed his pace down completely. Harry didn’t know what to think of what you said. You groaned as he dragged against you.
“I said, come inside. Please.” Your voice hoarse from screaming out before. Harry wasted no time after you said it again. His Hips resumed a steady rocking, and he was close to finishing. A grunt left his mouth before he thrusted back into you and released. The feeling sending you over the edge and another shudder runs through your body. Not even bothering to move out of the way you let Harry collapse on top of you.
“I think I’m going to keep that mask for next year.”
#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry styles smut#harry styles x black!reader#hslot 2023#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader smut#harry styles x reader#harry styles fluff
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Obsession - Part 1
Summary: Y/N meets her brother's girlfriend's dad for the first time... and they can't seem to stay away from each other.
Warnings: older!H, age gap romance, smut to come, angst
Word Count - 4k
"Jake, they're going to be here soon, right? You need to come downstairs so you can introduce me when they get here."
"Calm down, Y/N. I'm coming. Is the food ready?" Jake calls from his room. Y/N nods as she pulls the tray out of the oven before realising that he can't see her and yells back an affirmative. This is big. Jake had never invited any of his girlfriend's families to meet her - it had simply never been that serious before. But he seems to really like Isla, and Y/N, being the protective big sister, made him organise something. From what Y/N knows, Isla's mom is out of the picture, and she lives with her dad.
As Y/N quickly sets the table, she can't help but think about how much has changed since their parents' tragic accident five years ago. She was just 19 at the time, thrust into a world of responsibilities she hadn't been prepared for. But she rose to the challenge, becoming not only Jake's guardian but also his closest confidante and friend.
Now, at 24, Y/N is balancing her own life as well. She's in her final year at university, pursuing a degree in literature. Her love for books and storytelling has always been a part of her, and it's no surprise to anyone who knows her that she has chosen this path. Her dream is to become a writer one day, like her mom had been, crafting novels that will transport readers to different worlds, if only for a little while.
Jake emerges from his room, his usually tousled hair neatly combed. He wears a crisp shirt and a slightly anxious expression. Y/N can't help but smile at her brother. He has grown into a responsible and kind-hearted young man, and she is proud of him for taking this step.
"You look great," Y/N says, offering a reassuring smile. "Just be yourself, and everything will go fine."
Jake nods, though his nervousness is still evident. Y/N knows how much he cares about Isla, and she is determined to make this dinner a pleasant experience for all of them.
As they hear the doorbell ring, Y/N takes a deep breath and prepares herself, sneaking a quick glance at her brother, who looks even more anxious.
"Remember," Y/N whispers to Jake, "just be genuine. Show him that you truly care about Isla, and he'll see the same good-hearted young man that I see."
Jake nods, and they both make their way to the front door. Y/N swings it open and it takes everything in her to keep her jaw from falling open. Isla and her father stand in the doorway, the latter carrying a large bouquet of flowers. But the flowers aren't what has Y/N so taken aback.
The first thing that strikes her is his striking handsomeness. He has a timeless charm about him, with a chiseled jawline, piercing green eyes, and salt-and-pepper hair that only seems to enhance his rugged appeal. His eyes scan her up and down before he offers her a smile, one that Y/N feels in her core. He couldn’t have been older than 45, and he carries himself well. He oozes wealth and success, and Y/N has to remind herself to maintain her composure.
"Hello, Mr. Styles," she manages to say, though her voice quivers slightly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Y/N, Jake's sister."
Mr. Styles extends his hand with a warm smile. "Y/N, the pleasure is mine, but it's Harry. I insist,” he replies, his voice smooth and comforting.
As they shake hands, Y/N can't help but feel a subtle connection between them, beyond the initial surprise of his appearance. His hand is warm, and she revels in the touch before realizing she might have been holding on a bit too long. She quickly composes herself, dropping his grip as Isla introduces herself, and Y/N sends the young girl what she hopes is a welcoming smile.
As they all settle at the dinner table, Y/N tries to put her initial surprise behind her and focus on making the evening enjoyable for everyone. The conversation flows smoothly, with Jake and Isla sharing stories of their time together. Harry doesn't grill Jake like Y/N had been worried he would, but instead, he is polite and extremely well-spoken. The sleeve of his jacket slides up slightly while he speaks, gesturing with his hands, and Y/N's eyes almost roll off her head when she catches sight of the start of a sleeve of tattoos. He must have noticed her staring because Y/N suddenly feels his eyes on her, and she meets his gaze to find him wearing a slightly mischievous smirk.
"So, Y/N, we haven't heard much from you this evening. Tell me about yourself." He leans forward, taking a sip of his wine, staring at her over the top of his glass.
"Oh, um," Y/N begins, feeling the blush rise to her cheeks. She is mindful that Jake and Isla are also seated at the table, so she needs to control herself.
"I'm in my final year at university currently. I'm studying literature."
"Really? It's one of my interests as well. I used to teach it before I took over running my father's company."
"Oh, that's amazing. I'm the same way… Jake likes to joke that we're going to run out of space for all my books." Y/N laughs, and Harry joins in her laughter. Jake simply rolls his eyes, muttering to Isla about how Y/N is going to fill his room with books when he moves out.
"Y/N, I forgot to ask you about this, and Mr. Styles, I hope it's alright, but I actually managed to get Isla and me concert tickets for this evening. Would it be alright if we went? I promise we'll be back before midnight." Jake pipes up, rubbing his hands together nervously. Y/N shoots Harry a look, who simply shrugs and nods.
"As long as you're being safe, I think that should be okay. Have fun, you two. Y/N and I will clean up."
Jake and Isla quickly bid their goodbyes, with Y/N and Isla exchanging numbers, and Y/N making the younger girl promise to text her if she ever needs anything. When the door shuts behind them, Harry and Y/N are left alone, and the air in the room shifts considerably.
"So…"
"So…" Harry mimics, coaxing a small laugh from Y/N.
"You don't have to stay. I can clean up alone. I'm sure you'd rather get home." Y/N says as she starts taking the plates to the sink.
"No, I'd like to stay. Get to know you a bit more." Harry picks up the wine glasses and follows her into the kitchen. Her breath hitches as she feels him behind her, but he simply reaches over her to place the glasses in the sink before moving back to the table to grab more things.
"Are you sure? No one waiting for you at home?" The question slips out before Y/N can stop it, and she internally facepalms. Get it together, Y/N. He isn’t interested. He's older than her, by a lot. Even if he didn’t have a girlfriend, what he did have was a hell of a lot more experience.
Harry appears back in the doorway of the kitchen, holding more plates, his smirk back on his face.
"No… no one at home. Are you trying to kick me out? Got a boyfriend coming over?"
"No boyfriend. I… haven’t had much luck in that department." She turns away from him, facing the sink so he wouldn’t be able to see the blush on her cheeks.
"Really? Pretty girl like you? I would assume the boys would be falling at your feet."
She shakes her head in a silent laugh as she loads the dishwasher before pulling out two clean wine glasses, lifting one in offering.
"One more glass wouldn’t hurt. Then I’ll leave you to your evening." He takes it with a nod of thanks, opening the bottle, and Y/N moves to sit on the couch, bringing the glasses with her. He sits beside her, and Y/N forces herself to relax when she realises how close he is. She can smell his cologne now. It’s vanilla, intoxicating, and almost euphoric.
"It’s fine. I enjoy some new company once in a while. Jake is a great kid, but we do get tired of each other."
"He seems great. Isla really likes him."
"Isla’s really amazing. You’ve done a really great job with her."
At this, Harry looks proud.
"I appreciate that. Raising a kid alone has been a struggle, but we’ve managed this far. I can’t believe she’s going to be 18. So, I’m curious to know more about your thoughts on some classics. I don’t know many people who take as much of an interest in books as I do. What are your favourites?
“I love this question. I've always been fascinated by the works of Russian authors. Dostoevsky, in particular, has this incredible ability to explore the depths of human psychology. 'Crime and Punishment' is a masterpiece in that regard.”
Harry nods, his gaze fixed on Y/N as if hanging on to her every word.
"I couldn't agree more. Dostoevsky's exploration of guilt, morality, and the human condition is both thought-provoking and intense. 'The Brothers Karamazov' is another one of his works that left a profound impact on me.”
"And what about contemporary literature? Are there any recent books or authors that have caught your attention?”
Y/N pauses, considering her response, swirling what is left in her glass.
"Well, I've been quite taken by the works of Kazuo Ishiguro. His ability to craft emotionally resonant narratives is truly remarkable. 'Never Let Me Go' is a haunting exploration of identity and mortality."
Harry nods again in agreement. "Ishiguro's prose is beautifully understated, and his exploration of themes like memory and love is incredibly moving. 'The Remains of the Day' is another gem. I have a really great article on some of his work. What’s your number? I’ll send you the link.” He pulls out his phone and looks at her expectantly.
Y/N rattles off the digits and her heart races when he phone dings on the table. She has his number.
There’s silence for a moment as they both drink from their glasses. Y/N can tell they’re both well aware of the tension, but Harry is better at hiding how he’s affected compared to her.
"Have you dated since Isla’s mother?" Y/N isn’t quite sure where the question comes from, but her wine glass is getting awfully low, and Harry’s presence is messing with her head. Every few seconds, her eyes wander to his lips, and Harry follows her gaze. They’re treading in dangerous waters, and they both know it, but for some reason, it’s even more exciting. Y/N shifts slightly on the couch, and her knee brushes his. Harry doesn’t flinch; he doesn’t move; he just keeps his leg where it is, maintaining the contact. She watches as he takes another sip of wine, his gaze fixed on her, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and desire.
"Dated is a strong term. I sleep with people when I feel the urge. I haven’t met anyone that I’ve wanted to start anything serious with. No one I wanted to… what is it your generation says? Wine and dine?" He raises his glass in Y/N’s direction, his eyes locked onto hers.
Y/N can't help but laugh at his playful tone, even as her heart races at the implications of his words.
"Yes, wine and dine. That's certainly an approach, Mr. Styles.” She hadn’t meant for the name to sound as suggestive as it did. Or maybe she did. He swallows thickly at the use of his last name, shifting in his seat.
“Well maybe I just haven’t met the woman who’s made me want to change.”
“That’s a… possibility.” He’s slightly closer to her now and his scent is overwhelming her. Her gaze flicks from his eyes back down to his lips again and this time, he calls her out on it.
“Do you need something Y/N?”
“Hmm?”
“I asked if you needed something. You seem rather fascinated… is there something on my face?”
“Oh! No! There’s nothing on your face it’s fine.”
“Just fine?” He teases and Y/N covers her face with her hands, her head spinning slightly from the alcohol. She looks up at him again, meeting his eyes and trapping her bottom lip between her teeth. He groans, almost inaudibly.
“Stop looking at me like that Y/N or I’m going to think-” He trails off, before shaking his head and running a hand over his face. He stands, picking up his wine glass and moves towards the kitchen.
“Think what Harry?” Y/N follows him, standing in the doorway, forcing him to look at her.
“I- I think I should be going. It was lovely to meet you and Jake finally, I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”
Y/N decides to play dumb. She is fully aware of what’s behind his sudden change of mood, and she knows he’s cautious. Wary. Normally she would be too, but the wine has made her bold and he’s captivating.
"Harry," Y/N says softly, taking a step closer to him."Is everything okay?”
Harry lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he looks at her with a mixture of longing and frustration. "Y/N, you're making it really difficult for me to leave," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
“So don’t.” Her arms go up, around his neck and they’re close now. Close enough that Y/N can feel the warmth of his breath on her face. And then he’s leaning in.
Their lips touch for the first time and it’s electric. Harry’s hands move up her body, tangling in her hair, pulling slightly and Y/N moans into his mouth. He quickly establishes dominance in the kiss, kissing her until she’s gasping for air. He walks with her, pushing her until her back is against the wall and he’s leaning into her. Harry pulls back for a moment to breathe and Y/N pulls him closer, wanting needing him in her orbit. He sinks into her touch for a second, two, three and then he’s pulling away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Fuck.” He mutters, almost to himself and his internal turmoil is more than evident on his face.
“Harry? What’s wrong?”
“Y/N I’m almost twice your age. And this?” He gestures between them. “Can’t happen.”
“Why not? You feel it don’t you? The pull? There’s something here.” Y/N steps closer and Harry lets her.
“Of course I feel it Y/N and that’s why I know that whatever it is, we need to ignore. You’re young, and I’m well…”
“Just because I’m young, it doesn’t mean I’m immature Harry. As an adult, I’m telling you that whatever this is, I’m ok with it.”
“I can’t- I don’t… Y/N, I have to go.”
Y/N stands there speechless as Harry pushes away from her. He grabs his jacket off the couch and moves towards the door.
“Harry, let’s talk about this.”
“Thanks for dinner.” And then he’s gone, shutting the door behind him, leaving Y/N alone, incredible confused and slightly turned on.
It’s been two weeks since Y/N saw Harry at dinner and it’s been about two minutes since she last thought about him. Well to be more precise, since she last thought about the feeling of his lips on hers. If she closes her eyes, she can picture it. The warmth of his touch, the way he pushed her up against the wall…
“Y/N? Are you even listening to me?” Jake waves a hand in front of his sisters face, noting that it’s the 3rd time that she’s zoned out during the conversation.
“Oh. Sorry. What were you saying?” Y/N forces herself to pay attention.
“Isla said she’d text you but she wanted to know if you’d be cool with going over to their place to help her with an assignment for her literature class.”
“Umm… is her dad going to be there?”
“Mr Styles?” Jake raises a quizzical brow. “I don’t know… why?”
“Uh, no reason. When does she want me to come over? I’m working most of this week except tomorrow.”
“I told her that, she said tomorrow was fine. Thanks for helping her Y/N she’ll appreciate it.”
“No worries Jake.” Y/N offered a small smile but internally, she couldn’t be more stressed. The thought of seeing Harry again, especially after he left in such a rush, made her incredibly nervous. Maybe he wouldn’t be there. Hopefully he wouldn’t be home.
(4:09pm) Isla Styles: Hi Y/N! Jake told me you were happy to come over and help me tomorrow! Thank you so much! I should be home around 6pm, usually I work till 8 but I’ll ask to finish early. Dad shouldn’t be home so I’ll leave a key under the mat for you. Let yourself in at 6 if I’m not home yet and I’ll meet you there.
(4:34pm) Y/N: Hey Isla! No worries, happy to help. See you tomorrow :)
6pm rolls around and Y/N finds herself standing in front of the house… well mansion Isla had given her the address for. There are no cars in the driveway so Y/N assumes Isla is running late. But just in case, she knocks. And she waits. There’s no sound from inside the house so Y/N fumbles under the mat for the key and slides it in the lock. She’s aware she’s alone in the house but she still tiptoes inside quietly. The ceilings are high, and there is a large statement staircase in the middle of the entrance. Floor to ceiling windows are in excess and Y/N stands quietly in awe for a few moments. It’s modern, and clean and everything Y/N would want in a house. She finds the living room easily, deciding to set up the few things she brought to help Isla with her assignment on the dining table.
(6:09pm) Isla Styles: I’m on my way! 15 minutes, I swear! Make yourself at home x
Y/N is opening her laptop when she hears a noise. A noise that sounds a lot like a moan. And then it happens again. It’s faint, muffled due to where she is in the house, so she moves from the dining table to the bottom of the staircase.
“Fuck Harry. Right there, oh my GOD!” The woman’s voice is high pitched, her moans increasing in volume as Harry, from what Y/N can gather, fucks the shit out of her.
“You like that baby? Gonna come for me? You feel so good. Fuck Y/N.”
Y/N stills at the sound of her name, not waiting to hear the other woman’s response before scrambling back to the kitchen. Did he just…? Surely not.
10 minutes passes and Y/N hears heels click clacking down the stairs. From where she sits, she gets a glimpse of a woman in a short blue dress, who lets herself out without another sound.
At least they’re done, Y/N thinks to herself.
She’s scrolling mindlessly on her phone, willing Isla to appear, when she hears footsteps. She didn’t hear the front door open again which means…
Harry appears in front of her, with only a pair of boxers on, making his way to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. He hasn’t noticed her yet and Y/N doesn’t really know how to handle it. But as usual, her mouth speaks before her brain catches up.
“Do you usually call the women you’re hooking up with my name? Or is that just a more recent thing?”
He jumps, spilling a bit of water down his chest, as he realises who is sitting at his dining room table.
“Y/N what the fuck are you doing in my house?”
“Hello to you too. Isla wanted help with an assignment. She’s late, so she told me to let myself in. She also told me you wouldn’t be home. But obviously you are… and someone else is too it seems.” She smirks at how uncomfortable he seems as she makes her way over to him.
“Isla isn’t home till after 8 on Saturdays.” Is all he can think of to say.
“Mmm. You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m not discussing my sex life with you Y/N. I told you, nothing is going to happen between us.” But even so, he steps closer.
“Ok, but if you’re calling other women my name, you must want it to. And I want it to. So that makes us two consenting adults. I don’t think I can stay away from you, Harry.”
Harry’s eyes shut as he inhales the smell of Y/N’s perfume, the intoxicating scent taking him back to the night a few weeks before. This time Y/N is the one to lean in, attaching her lips to his. She’s mindful that he was fucking someone else just moments before but in the moment she can’t bring herself to care. She can feel the moment that Harry gives in, caging her in against the kitchen counter, devouring her mouth with his. Y/N runs her fingers down his chest, revelling in the chance she gets to touch and feel. His skin is smooth and his curls are soft. She finds the harder she pulls, the more insatiable he becomes.
“Y/N? Are you here?” Isla’s voice rings out from the foyer and both Harry and Y/N freeze, pulling away from each other.
“Get out of here… when she sees you without any fucking clothes on she’s going to ask questions.” Y/N pushes on his bare chest and Harry quickly moves up the back stairs up to his room, but not before pressing a small peck to her lips again.
“I’m so sorry I’m a bit late! Are you ready to get started?” Isla chirps, completely oblivious as to what was happening just moments before.
Y/N nods, and starts to show Isla some of the books she brought when her phone dings. Once, twice, then three times.
“Someone’s popular!” Isla jokes. Y/N offers her a small smile as she flips her phone over.
(6:31pm) Harry: You’re right.
(6:31pm) Harry: I don’t think I can stay away from you either.
(6:31pm) Harry: Let me take you out for dinner. Let’s talk.
Y/N glances nervously over at Isla, who seems engrossed in her reading material.
(6:33pm) Y/N: Ok. We’ll talk.
A/N: Hi!!! Thank you for reading, I am SO excited for this series to begin. What do we think of our characters so far...? Reblogs and Feedback are always appreciated 💋
Tags:
@lukesaprince @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge @lomlhstyles @opheliaofficial07 @behindmygreyeyes @gem1712 @stylesmoonlight12 @babyiamperfectforyou @velvetballaspark @harrys-flower @macy-tpwk @mema10 @intimacywithceline @jerseygirlinca @daphnesutton @rafaaoli
#harry styles#hslot#love on tour#harrystyles#harry styles au#harry styles fics#harry styles fic#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles ceo#harry styles smut#harry styles age gap#harry styles older#older!harry#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry edward styles
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poeghoul’s masterlist
requests are open! ⋆｡°🕯️✩.˚₊
series
hard times (on going)
in which harry is somewhat scary and y/n is beyond infatuated.
one two three four
cw: mafia!harry, drug mentions, panic/anxiety attacks, angst
#harry styles#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry smut#harry styles smut#harry styles imagine#harry imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles one shot#harry styles x reader#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles fiction#harry edward styles#hslot
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I can’t deal with this today- 🥹 wrote the tiniest drabble for you, I couldn’t help myself!
Like you’d accidentally walk on the outside and he’d be like ‘erm excuse me!’
And you’d be like ‘what? What did I do?’
And then he’d literally grab you by the shoulders to stop you and then rotate the two of you so that he is on the outside, meanwhile a couple of bystanders are now watching the two of you.
‘That’s better’ he says continuing to walk, satisfied that he was now on the outside.
‘Why does it matter who’s walking on which side?’ You chuckle.
He turns around flabbergasted that you were even questioning his motives ‘it is literally the number 1 rule as a boyfriend’
‘What protect me at all costs?’
‘Yes of course, what if a car came hurtling towards us?
‘Then we’d both probably get horrific injuries or get squashed’
‘No wrong! I would protect you with my body so you wouldn’t get hurt’ he throws his hands as if he wasn’t the one thinking illogically.
‘Baby you’re soo fucking cute’ you pout.
‘And guess what so are you, too cute to get squished’ he reaches his hand to clasp with yours to carry on your venture into London, on the correct sides of the path.
#he’s so boyfriend#I need this in my life#harry styles#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry styles smut#harry styles x reader#fine line#harry smut#love on tour#hslot#harry fluff
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Series
Now You're In My Life
summary: a chance meeting at a diner turns your world upside-down and leads you on a whirlwind romance with one of the biggest pop stars in the world.
(More Than) One Shots
(One shots that got away from me, but aren't quite a series.)
Lost (2 Parts)
Lose You to Love Me
A run-in with your childhood sweetheart brings up old memories, and lingering feelings.
Lost and Found
You and Harry reconnected a month ago, and he insisted you come along for the final show. when your emotions start to get the better of you, you wonder if you and Harry could ever really just be friends.
End of the Road (2 Parts)
Home Stretch
As the tour comes to an end, the schedule starts to visibly take its toll on Harry, and you can't help but worry.
Crossing the Finish Line
It's the final show and Harry charms you into making good on a promise you made last time you were together.
Big Winners (3 Parts)
Harry and Y/N have been friends for fifteen years, they finally work together on an album, and it leads them to a night that will change everything for them.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
One Shots
All I Ask*
You're finally starting to get over Harry, what happens when fate brings you back together?
Having Your Baby
You get some life changing news, and come up with the perfect way to tell your husband.
Wallflower
You're sitting alone at a wedding, can a handsome stranger help you come out of your shell?
Line of Fire
You and Harry have been keeping your relationship off the radar, but his concern for you overwhelms his need for privacy.
Coming Home To You*
Harry comes home early and catches you by surprise in the best way possible.
Scars
Can Harry be the comfort you need after falling back into old habits?
Ooh La La
After a revelation on movie night, you and Harry decide to reenact one of the scenes.
Love Don’t Cost A Thing
Harry loves to spoil you, but you're having a hard time adjusting to his lavish lifestyle.
The Battle in Barcelona
A crazy crowd at the airport comes between you and Harry.
Misplaced Emotion
As Harry prepares to jump back into the spotlight, he has a hard time re-adjusting to public life, and it manifests in the wrong way.
Good News All Around
You reach a big milestone in your life, but feel overshadowed when you call to tell Harry about it.
Perfect Harmony
You're in the final days of the tour, and Harry makes a suggestion that ends up changing everything.
Lights, Camera, Action
What was supposed to be just another job becomes the start of something new.
Business or Pleasure?
You return to Love on Tour after an extended break, but after your last interaction, you come back to an awkward situation with Harry.
Reigning it In
You're about to participate in your first horse show, but the nerves overwhelm you. Harry finds you just in time.
Family Portrait
Harry has a couple of heartfelt surprises for you while you're visiting him on tour.
All or Nothing*
You find a new way to tease Harry during a tour visit, which leads to a new way to drive him crazy.
With this Ring
Harry takes his commitment to you to a new level.
Veiled Insecurities
Harry has some insecurities about your relationship, but instead of talking to you about them, they end up coming out in the wrong way.
Heart Song
As a former member of the Love on Tour band, and current girlfriend of Harry, he asks you to reprise your spot for the final show.
Road to Recovery
After reading some negative comments about yourself, you nearly spiral back into old habits. you try to keep it from Harry, but he finds out and confronts you about it.
A Work of Art
After procrastinating for a few weeks, you finally make moves to finish your assignment, but run into an unexpected road block.
He's Not Me
You introduce Harry to the guy you're seeing, and you see a side of him you've never seen before and are shocked by his reasoning.
Sharing is Caring
You can't find your favorite handbag, Harry assures you he doesn't have it, but you see some photos tell a different story
Cantaloupe
In this one shot/flash forward from the Now You're In My Life storyline, you and Harry recap the big news from your family's Thanksgiving dinner.
Like Riding a Bike
Despite being on break, Harry manages to find his way back onstage.
Fa La La La Freakout
You will be meeting Harry's family for the first time over the holidays, and you are desperate for them to like you.
The Morning After
The morning after Harry's 30th birthday, you're hungover and Harry reminds you of your drunken actions from the night before, leading to a conversation you never expected.
Baby-Baby-Baby
Harry meets his niece for the first time, the joy and excitement are quickly replaced with a whole new set of feelings when his best friend, Y/N joins him at the hospital.
Smoke & Mirrors
Harry asks you to move to London with him, but a new opportunity for him makes things a little more complicated than you'd both expect.
(*) - NSFW
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x fem! reader#harry styles x plus size reader#harry styles headcanon#harry styles meet cute#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry's house#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fan fic#harry edward styles#harry styes imagine#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#love on tour#hslot#hslot harry#harry styles blurb#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic
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Italian summer
Faceclaim: Phoebe Tonkin
Yn and Harry have been seen together for a while now, including the last show. Are they together or not?
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Liked by harrysflower, harryupdates and 225,058 others
harryflorals HARRY OUT IN ITALY RECENTLY!
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harrysflower The pink daddy hat!!!
harrieshouse if there's one thing this man is gonna do it's be on a boat
harrietquiet nothing good ever happens when he's on a boat...
Liked by harryfan06, harryfan26 and 296,395 others
harryflorals MORE OF HARRY IN ITALY
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harryfan96 GAWD DAMN
harryfan26 the abs😩
Liked by harryfan05, gemmastyles and 458,496 others
yninstagram I like the view
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harryfan05 Isn't that the boat Harry's on?
harryfan67 looks like it!
gemmastyles you're my best view 💘
harryfan97 even gemma commented
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harryupdates Harry looking like a snack on the boat! Yn and some of his friends and family were also there!
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harryfan69 not harry just checking yn out🤣
harryfan96 oh the way he was looking at yn😳
Liked by annetwist, harryfan79 and 506,053 others
yninstagram ⛱️
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harryfan17 oh that is so harry's foot
harryfan08 they are so dating, they're literally everywhere together
harryfan16 doesn't necessarily mean that!
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harryupdates HARRY TODAY BY THE POOL
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harryfan85 yn just posted a picture by the pool 🙈 and i think they were the only ones there!
harryfan86 ohh def dating
Liked by annetwist, harrystyles and 506,543 others
yninstagram pool
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harrystyles wise words
harryfan86 hes so 😩
annetwist looking gorgeous!
yninstagram why thank you anne🥰
harryfan97 got the moms approval
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harryflorals HARRY AND YN GETTING COMFOTABLE ON A YACHT!
harryfan07 oh they're definetly together now
#harry styles#harry edward styles#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfic#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harry styles fake ig#harry styles fake instagram#harry styles fake social media#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles story#fine line#love on tour#hslot#harry styles love on tour#harrys house
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welcome to the final show - h.styles
masterlist
pairings: harry styles x reader!
warnings: fluff
a/n: in my depressed era now that tour is over ☹️
it’s over. it’s somehow a bittersweet ending that for some reason, you never saw actually coming to an end. he’s exhausted, but his heart has never been so full seeing his fans send the love right back to him night after night, and this one seems to get to him more.
family, friends, team members, band members, and even celebrity guests all approach his sweaty body first. fist bumps, high fives, and hugs are all he knows for the next couple of minutes, until the crowd of loved ones part like the sea to reveal you. a kiss would be nice, he thinks to himself. after all, it’s the second most magical thing he could experience after his final performance.
“you did such a good job, h.” you launch your body into his. the smell of his heightened body odor doesn’t bother you in this moment. you just press yourself further into him before pulling away and giving him what he wants. a kiss.
“you enjoy it?” he asks like it’s a ever question. every moment of each show was more than enjoyable, so when he sees you roll your eyes he knows. he knows you loved every second until it was over.
“go get changed.” you point in the direction of his dressing room, and it hits him. the emptiness in his gut appears once again attempting to swallow him. this was over. the performing would actually stop and he could have a break. you can already see the wheels turning in his head, he’s wondering what he’ll do with his free time. he’s never had this much of it since COVID.
“what if I want to stay in this?” he gestures to the gold fringe suit he’s wearing, the vest showing off his beautiful abs and butterfly tattoo. one of his best outfits, you thought to yourself when you saw him enter the stage.
“I won’t mind that.” you smile, cheeks hurting so badly from the whole night of doing so, but you still press on watching his eyes light up at your approval.
you know why he doesn’t want to take it off. it’ll be like admitting the best thing thats ever really happened to be over. that him hearing his fans scream when the lights drop, sing his lyrics back to him, and dance to his songs will be over. the joy he brought to millions upon millions would finally stop. for the first time, he could fly home and have no where else to be later.
“I bet he’ll sleep like a baby tonight.” Anne wraps her arms around your shoulders, a tight smile on her lips and tear stained cheeks that match yours. she’s proud of her sons accomplishments, but she knows he’s ready to go home. she knows he’s ready to sleep in your arms for hours upon hours.
you nod in agreement watching him trot off to Lloyd, his camera hung around his neck showing the band members his photography of the night.
“I got this picture of you, y/n.” Lloyd’s eyebrows wiggle in a mischievous way, harry taps his shoulder with his index finger begging to show him already.
“calm down!” Lloyd laughs, his thumb clicking through the photos until it stops and settles on, what you believe, is an image of you.
harry takes the camera in his hands, a small smile forms on his lips as he stares long and hard at the picture. it’s like if he blinks the image of your visibly tears streaming down your cheeks, bright smile, and pink boa would all go away.
“I love this picture, can you print it out for me?” harry taps the small screen, and he talks with Lloyd like you’re not there. the camera gets passed around to band members again, and your image fades with the millions of other ones.
“was it a good picture?” you ask him when he’s finally moved on from the group and back over to you.
“darling, the best picture ever. going to have it framed forever.” he presses his lips against your temple, arms wrapping around your body, and once again you’re pulled into his sweaty body.
“going to have this night framed for ever as well. it was one for the books.” you watch him nod, arms wrap tighter around you for a second, “now let’s go home, h.”
“I couldn’t have agreed more, let’s go home.”
#harry styles x you#harry styles x oc#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fic#harry styles imagines#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles x fem!reader#love on tour#hslot23#hslot harry#hslot europe#harry styles x plus size reader#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fluff#one direction fic#one direction imagine#1d fanfiction#1d fic#harry styles blurb#harry styles drabble
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Northern attitude (1)
in which YN moves to a small town in the Alps and Harry is her grumpy neighbor
word count: 8k
When YN got called to her boss’s office, that Friday morning, she was absentmindedly registering the data she’d gathered the day prior from the soil of a closed wildlife zoo. She had gotten so nervous, she accidentally tapped an extra zero on the computer and she had to do it all over again at home once she’d gotten an email from her supervisor telling her the numbers didn’t match. To say she was embarrassed was an understatement, and she’d gotten right at it, eager to correct it, despite her coworker telling her she could easily do it the following work day.
As she had paved the short walk from her desk to her boss’s office she tried to think of something she’d done in the past days that would require such an odd behavior on her boss’s part.
Of course her boss couldn’t possibly have known about the extra number error, unless Dante — her boss, who was a rather nice one and wanted his employers to call him by his first name, because it was such a unique name he couldn’t possibly answer to such a simple and common thing as ‘boss’ — was some kind of supernatural being able to foresee the future. She frowned as she tossed the thought from her head. She likes to think she would’ve noticed if her boss was not human, but despite his uncommon name, he was a pretty normal guy, somewhat laid back and kind of understanding with his employees, so nothing stuck out in that sense.
There was another thing that came to mind when she tried to find a reason for his unpredicted call, probably much more possible than her starring in an episode of Supernatural with Dante, and that was, maybe, that her break up had finally caught up to her. She’d tried to keep it as low as possible, not that she had a lot of friends at work, but one coworker of hers was particularly noisy and would ask once in a while how her boyfriend, Aaron, was doing. So when said coworker had asked, she’d just shrug it off with a ‘he’s all right,' without mentioning how she’d found him in bed with her best friend only a week before.
She’d kept her crying to a minimum, excusing herself to the bathroom every once in a while when the image of her boyfriend on top of her best friend crept inside her mind when she wasn’t busying herself with work.
So she really can’t understand how Dante figured it out. Her work had been impeccable, and despite her many bathroom breaks, she swore nothing had changed in her demeanor.
YN doesn’t know why when something unexpected happens, she always thinks about the worst possible scenario. Her mind fogged with images of Dante firing her, Dante being a supernatural something, biting her head off because he predicted she’d type the wrong number and probably make his company go bankrupt, ruining a life’s work — of course YN didn’t have such responsibility (she was supervised in everything she did) and her job was rather dull, just a lot of bureaucracies and not as much research as expected.
She certainly hadn’t imagined Dante’d called her in his office because he wanted to offer her a promotion. She honestly couldn’t believe her ears and she’d almost asked him to repeat himself had it not be for his endless monologue about the importance of team work and how she had to take one for the team, besides, moving to a small town in the Alps was nothing, and it was only for two years, so why would she decline?
Wait. Moving? To the Alps? (She honestly doesn’t even know where the Alps are, but is too embarrassed to ask him, and promises herself she’ll google it once she gets back to her desk.)
Turns out, the position was vacant because her coworker Anais had just found out she was expecting a baby, so she couldn’t move anymore (especially to the Alps!, he’d said), and Dante had immediately thought of YN, because well, as he said, she was young and didn’t have anything holding her back. YN remembers she frowned at that, because she really didn’t have anything keeping her there, if not the possibility of running into her ex at the supermarket hand in hand with her friend.
With that in mind, she kind of accepted before really taking the time to think about it, desperate to get out of a place that felt suffocating all of a sudden.
Dante had been ecstatic to hear that, going on and on about how they recently found out traces of a wild grizzly bear that had been thought extinct for many years, and how she’d love working in the field as opposed to her office job.
He explained how her living situation was already sorted out (and paid for by the company), she figured probably because Anais had done the house hunting prior to finding out she was pregnant and couldn’t go. Dante had told her she’d be leaving in two weeks, and the plane was non refundable so she couldn’t just change dates. Plus, he said, they were expecting her, so she better pack fast! (YN had felt ravish at that, because she never truly felt indispensable for her actual coworkers.)
She’d managed to pack all her and her dog’s — a one year old dachshund named Baguette — stuff in ten days, making sure she had enough warm clothes to last her at least all winter, because as it turns out, she had googled where the Alps are, and they’re really, really, cold. Temperatures dropping below the zero in March cold.
YN, who, she’d like to think, wasn’t someone scared of changes and adapted to situations rather well, was kind of excited as she had gotten on the plane, ready to leave her life behind, because, really, how bad could it be?
. . .
Turns out, it was pretty bad. And when YN says bad, it means bad, because she isn’t one to use words lightheartedly. When she says bad, she means her suitcases got stalled at the airport because of custom checks bad. Gets dark at four in the afternoon bad. Had to walk in the freezing March weather (along a steep climb!), because there wasn’t any kind of public transportation kind of bad.
So, yes, it was pretty bad. Not to completely drain her of her enthusiasm, but definitely enough to dim it.
When she reached the gate of the house, she took her phone from her pocket and unlocked it, opening the mail’s app and looking for the one her landlord had sent her with all the details (he technically hadn’t sent it to her, but to Anais; Dante had forwarded it to her and assured her the landlord — a certain Mr. Styles, knew about her arrival and would greet her in his house — more like his garden — with open arms).
She nodded to herself once she finished reading the instructions, opening the gate with the code Mr. Styles had written in the email. She repeated the combination of numbers a couple of times in her head, so she could remember it better in the future, and once she heard the gate had been unlocked, she pushed it open with one hand, looping her fingers around the embroidery on the metal.
“C’mon, Baguette!” She said, lowering to the ground and picking up her small dog. Baguette got extremely tired from walking and she certainly couldn’t blame her. She felt pretty tired too, almost enough to get already in bed at five in the afternoon and sleep though the night, and she let herself gleam in the cozy daydream while she paved the way to the small house she’d be staying in, annex to a much bigger one where she figured Mr. Styles (and probably his wife? His family? She didn’t know) lived in. She felt herself grimace once she realized she didn’t even have her pajamas, so before she could fulfill her little dream, she had to at least stop at a supermarket to get something to sleep in.
She prayed in her mind it was close, because really, she didn’t know how long she had before her feet would give up on her.
YN wasn’t one to pry on people’s personal spaces, never had been (not even when she passed her crush’s house in 8th grade and her mind begged her to take a quick peek inside to see if he was home) and she regarded houses as very personal, intimate, spaces, so she doesn’t know why, on her way to her own house, she stopped to get on her toes and look inside what seemed to be a kitchen window. The house seemed empty, the lights turned off expect for a small lamp in the corner, and she possibly couldn’t have known that Mr. Styles had just gotten out of his car and was walking towards her with a look that, had she seen it, probably would have scared her.
“What the hell are you doing?” He snapped, making her jump. She turned toward him right away, watching him shut the car door loudly, a stern look adorning his otherwise gentle features.
“Uhm… hello?” She questioned, furrowing her brows at him, “I’m YN, the — she cleared her voice and pointed with her thumb in the direction of the small house — the new tenant. Who are you?”
YN tried to rattle inside her brain if Dante had mentioned a flatmate she’d be sharing the house with, but nothing came to mind. So who was he?
“YN?” He asked, the furrow in his brows only deepening. He had gotten incredibly close to her and YN felt unease at having her personal space involved like that, which is kind of ironic, must she say.
She nodded, mumbling a small yes along with it.
“I thought Anais was supposed to come?”
Did he know Anais? How did he know her?
Oh!
Oh.
Could he be?
He certainly couldn’t!
He was much younger than she’d imagined!
She thought Mr. Styles would be an odd, off putting kind of elderly person, who maybe had a wife or an old dog Baguette could play with. She certainly couldn’t have imagined Mr. Styles was this handsome (yet scary), tall guy, with a mop of chocolate brown curly hair down to his shoulders, eyes as green as the deepest forest she dreamt about while reading fantasy books when she was younger, broad shoulders and… were those swallows she could see from the low collar of his white cotton shirt? And who wears only a shirt in this weather? He must be mad!
“Oi!” He waved a hand in front of her face to catch her attention, “i’m talking to you.”
She mumbled something incomprehensible and then she gulped before nodding her head, “sorry. Anais couldn’t come anymore, Dante told me you knew.”
She watched as Mr. Styles scoffed, muttering a ‘what a prick’ before shaking his head, a strand of curly hair falling in front of his eyes, which he pushed out of his face with a couple of gentle fingers. YN noticed the various rings adorning his hands, and she wondered for a brief moment wether they were a gift or if he’d buy them himself.
He looked over her briefly and YN shifted her weight from foot to foot, thinking he was probably wondering why she didn’t have any bags with her. She was getting ready to explain how the airport security had detained them, but the words haltered in her throat when she saw him raise a hand and letting the sleepy Baguette in her arms sniff it, before scratching his ear.
“What a cute doggy” he said, lowering himself to be face to face with the small dog, “what’s your name?” He asked directly to Baguette, and YN felt as if all of a sudden she was the dog and Baguette was her owner, and she blushed at that thought.
“This is Baguette!” She chimed awkwardly.
“Ha” he snorted through his nose, “cute name. Baguette” he repeated, and the name rolled off his tongue so sweetly YN imagined what hers would sound like coming from his lips. Probably much more stern and less saccharine.
“Okay, I have to go.” He raised himself, making her jump a little in her place. He straightened his shirt and looked at her with a crossed look, “you know how to get in, right? Or do I have to explain that too?”
YN couldn’t possibly know what other things he had explained, but she wasn’t clueless and had realized Mr. Styles didn’t particularly like her, so she figured it was best to say she did and figure it out on her own. So, she nodded and he gave a short nod back, walking past her towards his own house.
She watched him unlock the door with a set of keys and then disappear behind the front door, her gaze fixed on his broad shoulder covered only by the thin fabric of his shirt. She felt Baguette wiggle her tail from where she was holding her between her arms, and YN rolled her eyes at her dog, “of course you like him already! Traitor!”
. . .
YN didn’t knock on Mr. Styles’s door with the intention of bothering him.
She just wanted to ask him where she could buy something to sleep in and perhaps something to eat, an overpriced airport sandwich being the only thing she’d eaten all day. So, she thought, her intentions were pretty harmless, and it’s not like she was expecting an invite in for dinner or something like that!
She truly didn’t mean to be a bother, but her stomach had started to grumble half an hour ago, and she dreamed of the hot shower she’d take after, which she couldn’t possibly take if she wasn’t certain she’d have something to sleep in comfortably.
When a couple of minutes had passed and there was still no trace of Mr. Styles, she wondered whether he was even home. Her mind lingered just a second on the possibility that he was actually avoiding her, but YN was one of those people that always chose to see the good in others, so she got rid of the thought as quickly as it had come.
She knocked on the door again, this time harder and firmer, and she waited patiently. She was almost about to give up, when the door opened before her with a swift movement that caught her off guard.
Mr. Styles looked displeased once he set his scrutinizing gaze on her figure, and YN could almost feel his eyes touch her.
“What?” He asked, his brows furrowed on his forehead.
“I was just wondering if you knew a place where I could…like… it’s just that… I think you probably noticed, I don’t have my suitcases. And it’s honestly fine, the airport was packed so I don’t really blame them, and the hostess was so nice! She offered to refund me for the problem, but I didn’t want to go through all that… but now I really need my clothes so I don’t… ugh” she sighed frustratedly. YN tends to kind of talk really fast when she’s nervous. She’s always been like that, especially in front of boys, and her ex boyfriend always used to get mad at her for that — said it was embarrassing and made her look dumb; she’d tried many times to explain it wasn’t something she could control easily, but he’d suggested she’d fix it fast (especially if she wanted to meet his friends).
“Sorry” she exhaled, closing her blabbering mouth in a straight line.
Harry waited for her to continue what she was saying, his face stoic and impossible to read, which didn’t help soothe her nerves.
“Is there a place where I can get some clothes?”
“You moved across the country without clothes?” He asked, his brows closed in a furrow across his face that made YN even more nervous. She felt dumb. She wanted to explain what had happened without sounding silly.
“Ughhh, nooo. They kept my bag at check-in, so I don’t actually have any clothes, apart from these” she pointed towards her flimsy cotton sweatshirt that was definitely inappropriate for the cold weather.
YN tried not to pay too much mind to the grimace of what seemed like disgust when Mr. Styles looked at her clothes, and she shifted uncomfortably on her feet while she waited for his response.
“It’s almost six in the evening. Everything’s closed.”
YN felt her heart fall into her stomach as her brain registered the words that came out of his mouth.
Six. In the evening.
Everything. Closed.
“What?”
Harry rolled his eyes at her surprise, “everything closes at five here. You didn’t know?”
YN felt hopeless because how could she have known! She’d literally been on a plane for ten hours!
She looked at Mr. Styles with her big, widened eyes, and Harry didn’t have to wait for her to say it to know the answer.
YN felt like crying, right there in front of this man she didn’t even know the full name of. Her boyfriend had been right when he’d call her dumb. Because she was dumb. Who moves across the country this unorganized?
“Look, I really need to go right now.” Mr. Styles broke the tense silence that had fallen upon them, and he watched as she nodded her head slowly, seeming lost in thought.
“Okay.” She muttered, and it felt weird seeing her so quiet, but honestly, it wasn’t Harry’s problem. Her douchebag of a boss should’ve warn her, or at least she could’ve researched a bit on the place she was moving to!
He cleared his throat and YN woke up from her trance, she swiftly moved to the side to let him out. Harry closed the door behind him and locked it with his keys.
He shivered as a gust of cold wind fell upon them, and he watched with the corner of his eye how YN tried to squeeze herself in the flimsy sweatshirt she was wearing. Ha. She didn’t even look up the weather first!
He kind of felt bad for her, in a remote part of himself, but he also judged her for her carelessness.
“Bye” she waved gently from beside him, and he nodded towards her in a form of greeting.
He pretended to busy himself with his phone, not feeling like talking to her anymore, but when she started walking towards her own house, he looked up in her direction, his eyes on her back.
Her shoulders were sagged and she displayed a very different demeanor than she did this morning. Harry shook the feeling of her sadness from his gut and walked towards his gate, ready to meet his friends.
. . .
YN was hungry. And she felt gross. And the combination wasn’t the best.
She wanted to shower and lay down on her bed, that looked extremely comfortable and clean, but she was still wearing her airport clothes, and there was no way in hell she’d sleep in those.
She debated whether she could sleep naked, but it was way too cold for that, and she had work in the morning, so she didn’t want to call in sick her first day.
She was hopeless.
For a minute, she was so hungry that she contemplated eating some of Baguette’s food, but then she felt so disgusted by the idea she felt like throwing up, so she decided it was probably better not to. She couldn’t afford to throw up the only meal she’d had all day. So, she waited.
Her original plan was to stay up until 5 in the morning, go buy some pajamas and then nap for an hour until she had to wake up at 7.
But the combination of starvation and exhaustion didn’t really go well, because she was so tired she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She wondered for a moment if the ground was comfortable, and just as she was about to lay down and test it, she heard a knock on her door she almost believed she’d imagined at first.
She walked slowly to the door, her brows furrowed, and when she opened the door, she swears to god she was about to pass out.
At her feet lay a tray with takeout boxes, she couldn’t see what was inside them, but she figured anything was better than eating Baguette’s food. Next to the tray was a grocery store bag, closed with the handles tied in a knot, and she picked it up curiously.
She bent down to pick up the tray and she closed the door behind her with her foot.
She opened the yellow grocery bag first, and she still remembers the sigh of relief she let out as she saw what was inside: a clean long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of blue plaid pajama pants. She could smell the sweet and clean smell of the fabric softener, and she inhaled the scent in deeply.
She put aside the clothes and opened the take out boxes, eager to eat something. She grabbed a fork from the pantry and opened the first box, which contained what seemed to be a homemade meal, some kind of pasta with tomato sauce and meat. She scooped up a big bite and she felt better already, her brain finally being fueled after a really tiring day.
. . .
When she lay in bed that night, fresh off the shower and her tummy full with the best pasta she’d ever eaten, she cuddled with Baguette next to her and her mind wandered off to Mr. Styles. Maybe, she hadn’t really bothered him that much after all.
. . .
Harry hates people. And, therefore, he hates places full of people. Especially supermarkets. He hates supermarkets.
All those people in line, carts crushing into each others because of the carelessness of their owners, the annoying, commercial music coming from the speakers insinuating itself into his ears, the loud echo of voices commuting in one big buzz.
He hates supermarkets and most especially waiting in line. The self-check out was the best addiction to the small town’s supermarket, and ever since he’d found out how to scan his items by himself, he’d never, not once, gone back to the served check out. Apart from today, that is. Because the other registers appeared to be broken, and they couldn’t have picked a worse day to be, in his opinion. Rush hour, in a small town, is around 4 in the afternoon, and Harry knew that, and he had always tried to avoid the supermarket at that hour, but Niall had called, and he needed some kind of special sausage they only had at that particular supermarket, and when Harry had groaned, he’d swat at his arm playfully and he’d said: “you should thank god I feed you!”, and that was true in all its entireness, so Harry couldn’t really find it in him to argue with that. So, that’s what he was doing, at 4 in the afternoon, rush hour, holding a pack of a dozen sausages because his friend needed it.
He was lost in his thoughts when he heard her. That sweet voice that had taunted him the night before, so much he had asked Niall for some of the pasta he’d prepared “in case he got hungry later”, of course, that wasn’t entirely the reason. The reason being the cute and annoying girl standing in line a person before him, and the thought of her starving and with nothing but a cotton sweatshirt to shield her from the inevitable cold of the night.
“I’m so sorry it’s taking me so long,” he heard her say, as she let out a nervous chuckle through her mouth, “I just can’t find my card”.
“Only cash with this register, lady. There’s a sign right there” the cashier pointed towards the sign and YN felt herself get red with embarrassment. Eager to get it over with, she had run to the first opened register she could find, not paying much attention to her surrounding, which, she then realized, she probably should’ve.
“I just flew in last night, I still haven’t got time to…” she shook her head as she realized the cashier didn’t care. Of course she didn’t. Once again, she felt silly and alone.
“Okay” she whispered to herself, “i’ll just leave it all here and come back later?”
Harry, that was standing in line just a person from her, had listened to the exchanged quite attentively, and he’d rolled his eyes at her.
He cleared his throat and she snapped her head in his direction, and he didn’t miss the way her cheeks had turned pink once she’d recognized him.
“I’ll pay for her things” he offered, and the person in front of him, a middle aged man, breathed out a sigh of relief and whispered a “thank god” that YN didn’t miss. She smiled apologetically at the man, who didn’t even as much as throw a glance at her, and she watched as he stepped to the side to let Harry pass before him.
YN started packing her bags and she refused to look at Mr. Styles as he paid for her groceries and his own, too embarrassed to acknowledge the encounter that had just happened.
When he passed her, he grabbed one bag from the floor and started walking towards the exit of the supermarket, and YN watched as his bicep flexed under the weight of the bag.
She hurried to pick up his pace, and once she found herself walking at his side, she opened her mouth to thank him: “thank you so much, Mr. Styles. I genuinely didn’t know, otherwise I never would’ve chosen that register! The sign was just so small and I never pay attention to my surroundings so it was an honest mistake, I swear!”
Harry rolled his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time, “will yeh stop calling me Mr. Styles? ’s not like I’m bloody fifty years old!”
“Sorry” YN blushed embarrassed, as she tried to walk quickly beside him. His legs were very much longer than hers, and he walked pretty fast despite the added weight of the groceries.
“What should I call you?”
“Harry.” He groaned, rolling his eyes.
“Ok. Harry.” She said, nodding her head, liking the way his name sounded rolling off her tongue. “I will send you the money right away, I’m so sorry you had to do that for me”
“’s fine. Don’ worry ‘bout it.”
YN cleared her throat and nodded, looking down at her shoes as she kept walking beside him. Every once in a while, she would lose her balance due to the weight on her hands, and her arm would brush against his, the contact not going unnoticed by her. She wondered if he noticed too and if he cared, she knew he probably didn’t, but it was nice.
“Oh!” She remembered as they walked their way back to his house, “thank you for the food, too. And of course the clothes!!! You didn’t have to, but thank you. I was so hungry you have no idea. And the food was so so so good! Did you make it?”
“No.” He answered briefly.
“Well… it was really yummy. I’ll have to meet the chef!” She joked, and because she felt her arm get tired, she switched the bag to her other hand, trying to balance the weight, “are they from around here?”
“Yes.”
YN nodded understandably, “You know, I was a little scared to come here because I’d be all alone. Well, not entirely alone because I have Baguette, but… I’m so happy you’re my neighbor! You’re so nice”
Harry snorted through his nose at her words, “tha’s a first”, but YN, even if she heard him, didn’t say anything.
When they finally reached the house, Harry walked her to the door and placed the bag on the ground, massaging his arm that had gone a little bit sore.
“Thank you” she repeated, smiling warmly at him.
Harry shrugged and was about to turn around, when he heard her say “wait! Do you want to see Baguette?”
. . .
Harry left her house about half an hour later, incredibly late and with his phone blowing up from Niall’s calls.
He had looked around quickly once he’d walked inside, and he noticed some of her belongings scattered around the living room, some pillows that he didn’t recognize as his own lying on the couch. He wondered for a brief second what her room looked like, not regarding the furniture (that he had picked a long time ago with his mother), but what it looked like with her living in it. Did she change the sheets or did she keep the ones he chose? Was it tidy or messy? Did she sleep with Baguette?
It was weird to him, thinking this way about her, because never would he have thought of her as more than an annoying girl. But, he could admit she was kind of cute. Annoying, but definitely cute.
He had played with Baguette while YN put away the groceries, and they didn’t talk much because he didn’t feel like talking. He’d never given much confidence to people he didn’t know, and, despite YN calling him ‘nice’, he didn’t really know much about her.
He had excused himself after about twenty minutes of playing with Baguette, and after a quick rub on the dog’s belly, he left her house without muttering more than a ‘bye’.
He didn’t care if he came off as rude, he’d always been that way, and he certainly wasn’t about to change for this girl he met just the day before!
. . .
YN loved her work.
Since she was little, she’d always loved wild animals, and she’d dreamed one day of doing the job she’s supposed to do now: gather sources about this rare bear that had been sighted and write a report about it to send to Dante. If the report was good, she’d be published on Dante’s scientific magazine, which was a great opportunity for YN to get her name out there and be regarded in the scientific community.
All this was, honestly, easier said than done, because since the moment she stepped foot inside her new office, she received nothing but glares from her coworkers. Apparently, everyone was gutted about Anais’ replacement, and she tried really hard to be kind and explain that “no, Anais isn’t coming! But it’s a beautiful thing because she’s pregnant!!!! Dante sent me, I’m no Anais but I can try”, but, despite her big efforts, she was met with the indifference of the others.
She thought once on the field, the interviews would’ve gone a little better, because she was nice and she figured people loved nice, but as soon as she tried to talk to someone about this sighting, they recognized her immediately as a non-local (which apparently was a big deal) and refused to talk to her, feigning ignorance at her questions.
She felt defeated. And she started questioning for a bit whether moving to this small town was even a good idea in the first place.
Of course, she’d escaped from her ex and from the possibility of ever meeting him again, but was it worth it? In that moment, she couldn’t say.
When she returned to her office that Thursday afternoon, she tried to gather the little information she had gotten, but it wasn’t even close enough to write the introduction!, so she closed her laptop with a heavy sigh, full of her disappointment, and she promised the day after she’d do better.
The day after, YN decided to do what she did best back at her previous job, figuring maybe that the excessive responsibility had influenced her work. She decided she’d take a walk on the reserve and try and gather as many sources from the territory she could.
The bear had been spotted inside a terrain one hour down a three hour long pathway, which, for a wildlife animal, was pretty dangerous. She couldn’t even imagine what would happen if someone stumbled across the bear, and she truly feared for the animal’s life, knowing all too well human’s cruel nature.
The walk was tough, and the muscles in her legs were burning with fatigue. After about forty minutes of walking, she decided she’d stop at the first refuge she’d find, drink a little water and maybe even grab something hot to drink to warm up her freezing hands.
She spotted a cabin after a couple of miles, and she felt her heart jump happily in her chest at the thought of finally resting for a bit. She tossed her backpack into the ground and put away the little journal and pen she’d kept in handy to scribble down things she observed along the pathway.
Once inside the small cabin/cafe, she immediately felt her insides warming up. Everything was made out of wood, including the ceiling, and she observed how every chair had cute, fluffy blankets draped across the backrest.
The place was just what she needed after a really long and tiring walk, and she regarded with contentment how she was the only customer.
“Hello!” A shrilling voice called behind her, and she jumped in her place a little at the sound. She turned around immediately and she smiled at a blonde guy that was standing behind the counter. He was tying a blue apron behind his back and once he’d secured it, he cleaned his hands on its front, smiling warmly at her once their eyes met.
“Hi” she said, shyly, “could I get some hot cocoa, please?”
“Yes! Of course!!” He beamed, and YN wondered if she was maybe the first customer of the day or if he acted this way towards everyone that came in.
“Here or to go?”
“Here, thank you.”
“Okay! Just take a seat and I’ll bring it to you in a moment”.
YN nodded her head at his words and took place at a small table near a big window that overlooked the entire valley.
She’d been to the mountains just once with her family when she was very little, but she’d always dreamt of living in a slow-paced, small town, as opposed to the big city she left behind.
She loved the green and the sun shining high in the sky warming her skin, and she loved drinking hot drinks in spring. She wasn’t really a fan of the snow, though, that had always seemed to scare her, and she was happy she had both spring and summer to get through before the winter, and she figured she’d probably be accustomed to the place once it’d start snowing, so she decided not to worry too much about that now.
She fished out of her backpack her journal and started reading through her notes to see if there was something remotely good to start with.
unusual path for a bear
too many houses in proximity of the sighting
not much food can be found on the trail
(…)
She figured it was not much but a start nonetheless.
She was so engrossed by her notes she didn’t even hear the nice blonde guy approaching her, so when he placed the cup in front of her she jumped a little in her place.
“Woah, easy there! Yeh’re a jumpy thing, aren’t ya?” He giggled, pushing the cup in front of her as soon as she cast aside the journal.
She blushed immediately at his words, “sorry” she muttered.
“’S fine, didn’t mean to embarrass you”
She threw him a quick smile before glancing down at her hot chocolate, and she noticed happily that he had topped it with a big amount of whipped cream.
“Wait!” He chimed before she could take a sip of her drink, “forgot something.”
He ran back towards the kitchen and came out as quick as he went, holding a small, ceramic, plate in his hands.
He put it on the table in front of YN and smiled warmly at her, “Freshly made ginger biscuits!”
YN felt like crying.
This was the first time someone was so nice to her, and after the fiasco she went through with her interviews, she really could use someone that at least acknowledged her.
Of course, Harry had been nice, too, but in the days that had come, she’d seen less and less of him, and she’d started to wonder whether he was actually avoiding her.
“This is so good!!! Thank you” she beamed, finally feeling relaxed after what seemed like a long time but was actually just less than a week.
“Do you want to sit? If you’re not… busy?” She gestured to the empty seat in front of her and watched as he sat immediately in the chair, placing his elbows on the table.
“Usually there’s more people around but… you know, ’s rush hour, so…”
YN threw a glance at the clock on the wall, that ticked 3.58 pm. “Rush hour?” She asked, curiously.
“Oh! Yeah. I don’t where you’re from, but here, rush hour is at around 4 because everything closes at 5.30” he shrugged, stealing a cookie from the plate on the table between them.
YN nodded and took a sip from her drink, “shouldn’t there be more people if it’s rush hour?”
He furrowed his brows and cleaned his mouth from the cookie’s crumbles with the back of his hand, “no”.
YN nodded understandingly once again, even if she didn’t truly understand his thought process. She figured in small towns people lived differently.
“Are yeh here on vacation?” He asked her and she tried not to feel too disappointed that he understood right away that she wasn’t a local.
“No” she shook her head, “I moved here last Monday. I’m here for that bear sighting”
“Oh” she noticed his eyes widened, “nasty stuff that was! I hope that bear ’s long gone by now!”
She frowned at his words; she really would have liked seeing a real-life bear.
She chatted with him — she’d found out his name was Niall — for what felt like minutes but was actually an hour, and once she’d realized how late it had gotten, the sky had turned dark and gloomy, and she’d hurriedly collected her things and payed for her order, saying bye to Niall with the promise of coming more often. The clock ticked 5.13 pm and she figured it wouldn’t really be that dangerous to walk back home. It wasn’t late in the night, and despite the dark sky, it was still mid afternoon. So, after saying goodbye to Niall, she threw her backpack across her shoulder and started walking back.
Five minutes in her walk and she was already feeling uneasy. She hadn’t noticed at first but on the pathway there weren’t any lights, so she couldn’t see more than her own two feet; any little shadow or sound seemed to scare her, and it took her a lot of convincing to not just go back and ask Niall to take her home. The option had seemed tempting, but what could he really do? Close the cafe just because she was scared of the dark? and, despite talking his ear off all afternoon, who even was he? YN had a reputation for being easy going and able to make friends with pretty much everyone, but time had taught her that not everyone wanted to actually be her friend.
That thought made her think about Harry, and how she hadn’t seen him in almost five days. After he had played with Baguette in her home, she thought she had found if not a friend at least someone to hang out with, now that she was in a new place completely alone, but maybe, she’d figured, it was Harry that didn’t want to hang out with her. He had seemed pretty grumpy, but she’d seen through his facade pretty quickly, and she had thought he was actually nice. Now, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was just a one time thing.
She clutched the strap of her backpack extra tight as soon as she heard the sound of a car behind her, the headlights of the car illuminating her and the path before her. She shivered as the sudden thought of being alone on a street with no way of escaping came to her mind, and she picked up her pace to walk quicker. Beside her fear, there was also the question on how could someone drive in this particular pathway that, as she knew, was actually closed to cars.
She was wondering if the driver had some kind of permit, when the car — that actually seemed more like a pick up — stopped beside her. She unintentionally turned her head to look inside, and before she could say anything to the guy inside, he beat her to it: “what the hell are yeh doin’ here alone?”
She looked at Harry with wide eyes, her face half hidden behind the darkness of the sky, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized it was him and not someone who wanted to hurt her.
“I lost track of time” she said shyly, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously.
“Get in.” He ordered, and she saw him unlock the car doors with a button on the steering wheel.
“No, it’s okay! I can just walk, it’s not that far…”
“Get in!” He stressed, but, “please” he added, once he realized his tone may have come out a little too sternly.
“Okay” she whispered, wrapping her fingers around the handle of the car door and opening it. She threw her backpack on the car mat at the end of the seat and placed a hand on the car door to balance herself. The pick up was a little tall, so she had to literally climb inside the truck with her legs. She hoped she didn’t make too much of a fool out of herself.
He grabbed her arm to help her, and once she was settled in the seat, he let it go quickly, almost as if he was uncomfortable with touching her.
He didn’t say anything for a while, but YN noticed how he turned on the heat as soon as he saw her hugging herself against the cold.
The pickup was big, but she could still smell his perfume — or cologne? She didn’t know — lingering in the air.
YN stayed silent, not wanting to bother him, although it proved to be kind of difficult for her, because she wanted to ask him a lot of things.
She remembers thinking he was mad at her. She still doesn’t know why, and why in the world could he possibly be mad at her, but, still. Aaron used to get angry over the most silliest things, so she figured every guy was the same.
She almost caught herself asking him, but she remembered pretty quickly Aaron’s words: “not everyone wants to be your friend”.
She still had a little trouble understanding that.
She heard Harry clear his throat, and she wondered if he was about to talk, so she patiently waited. He didn’t. He seemed antsy, and YN noticed how tightly he was gripping the wheel, so, she decided to ease the tension between them with the thing she did best: asking questions.
“How are you allowed to drive here? Do you have some kind of permit? Because I researched the territory for my article and it strictly said ‘no cars allowed, must be on foot’, sooo… how can you? Are you some kind of… I don’t know — she shrugged, pouting her lips thoughtfully — are you some kind of boss, around here? That’s why people cook for you?”
Harry closed his brows in a furrow and brought his left hand up to massage his temple, “no” he simply said.
“What does ‘no’ mean?”
“It means no.” He said matter of factly.
“Ugghh — she huffed — I know what ‘no’ means! I was asking figuratively. Are you always this grumpy?”
“Thought yeh said I was nice” he grinned, a dimple denting his cheek.
“Forget it” she mumbled, turning her head to look outside the window; there wasn’t much to see, with all the darkness, but anything was better than looking at him.
“I’m not ‘some kind of boss’” he mocked her amused, glancing at her quickly before averting his gaze back on the road, “I own the terrain, so I can do whatever I want on it”.
YN turned her head to look back at him, wondering if he was making fun of her or if he was actually serious. He seemed serious.
“You own it?”
“Yeah” he nodded, amused by her reaction.
“I can’t believe it”
“Why?”
“This was were the bear was spotted! I could have asked you all along instead of interviewing people who closed the door in my face!” She pouted, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“They really closed the door in your face?” He asked, furrowing his brows, the smirk disappearing from his face quickly and his lips closing in a tight line.
“Yeah” she huffed, “but it’s okay. I mean… I get it if they don’t want to talk to me but… I really need to do my job! I really wouldn’t bother them if it wasn’t necessary”
“They closed the door in your face. It’s not okay.” He said sternly, back to his old grumpy self, “who did you talk to?”
“Oh… that woman that lives in the first house right after the cafe. Wait. Do you know the cafe?”
Harry snickered at her question, “yeah, I heard of it”.
“Just her?” He added.
“No” she shook her head, “I talked to Mr. Donovan too. I remember his name because Matt Donovan is a character in one of my favorite series! So… pretty easy to remember. He was actually nice before I told him I was writing an article for a magazine. He closed the door without even saying bye” she shrugged.
“That’s not okay” he repeated.
“Well, it’s no problem at all now!!!! Because I can just ask you” she beamed, clapping her hands excitedly.
“No. I wasn’t here that weekend”
“What?” She asked, looking at him with big eyes.
Harry refrained himself from laughing. “Yeah.” He nodded, “i wasn’t here. Sorry”
“Great.” She groaned, tossing her arms in the air, her enthusiasm quickly dissolving.
She heard him laugh through his nose, “i’m taking the piss out of yeh. I was here”
“Oh thank god!” she sighed relieved, finally seeing some ray of sunshine coming her way, “you’re cruel! don’t ever do that again!” She pointed her finger at his face and then swatted his arm when she heard him chuckle.
thank you for reading!!!! i love you all, let me know if you'd like part 2 and what you want to see happen 💖
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Finally Free
Summary: Harry is well aware that his shows are a place for people to be themselves, and he's often asked to help them "come out". But tonight he's helping someone special, to both him and YN, which for him makes it that much more amazing!
Warnings: Absolutely none, and please treat people with kindess
"Are you sure Daisy wants to do this? Here? Tonight?"
"That's what she said." YN shrugs. "You do it all the time for people… what are you worried about?"
Harry shrugs, looking over the homemade sign in his hands.
"Dunno. This one's just diff'rent." He states, turning his head to look at his love. "She's your sister, and your parents are about to hear her big news. It's 'lot of pressure!"
"Harry…" YN places her hand gently on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb along his collarbone, something they both know helps to calm his nerves. "She trusts you! That's why she asked to do it this way."
He nods in agreement. He and YN's sister Daisy became friends as soon as he started dating YN, despite being 5 years younger. He has known what Daisy identifies as for a while now, as she felt safe enough to tell the pair first. He's honored that she wants to include them, or at least him, in this important moment. Coming out to their parents is a big step. It's not as if they wouldn't be accepting, but it is still a huge moment and Harry just wants to make sure it goes right. That it's everything Daisy wants it to be.
"Alright." He states, letting out a large exhale in hopes to breathe out his own anxiety over the situation. "I won't let her down."
"I know you won't." YN replies, leaning up and placing a kiss on his cheek. "She knows you won't."
After raising the pink, purple, and blue flag for a fan in the audience, he turns to them once again to offer some encouragement.
"Go out and conquer and enjoy your bi life as hard as you possibly can! Make some noise for Alfie ev'rybody!"
The entire crowd cheers in celebration, which builds up the excitement, but also the nerves, for what he is about to do next.
"Now, I apologize. I know I said that was the last sign, but I do have one more person that has asked me to help them come out, and now is as good a time as any."
"Umm… can I have that, please?" He bends down at the very front of the walkway, reaching his hand out to the crew member he entrusted with this specific piece of bright paper.
He holds his other hand over his eyes, shielding them from the light with his microphone, and walks about until he reaches the very spot where he sees those familiar faces.
"There you are!" He exclaims, a wide grin on his face now, every ounce of anxiety melting away. He holds up the sign, checking that the big screen is capturing the bright colored letters, outline in glitter pen, and shows of the words that read 'HELP ME COME OUT HARRY'.
"This person is a close, personal friend of mine. We've known each other for a good while now, and she asked me to help her t'night. I feel very honored, thank you."
He notices YN wrap her arms around her sister, their parents on the other side of Daisy with seemingly no clue what is about to happen.
"Could I get some… hmm… upbeat sparkly music now?" He asks of the band, knowing his friend will appreciate making this moment just a bit more unique for her. Like he's been telling himself, he wants this to be everything that she wants it to be.
"Ooh, I like that." He approves, slightly swaying his hips from side to side. "Very good."
The crowd laughs, and claps. He assumes it's mostly for his antics, but hopes it raises the anticipation for YN's sister in a positive manner.
"Daisy!" He shouts, watching the other family members immediately shoot their gazes over to her. "We are doing this, are you ready?"
Daisy nods, quickly turning her head to her parents as she waits for Harry to make her declaration.
"Daisy, t'night, wants her wonderful family to know that she is… oh, wait, I need a flag!" He stops, not intending to stall, but finding relief in the comedy it has appeared to create. He places the sign down, and leans over the side, grabbing a rainbow flag being handed to him by a fan. "Thank you very much."
"Alright. Now we're both ready." He chuckles, sending a grin and wink to the girl as she waits. "Now once I raise this flag, Daisy, you are officially out. So, to Daisy's family, and to all the amazing people here in London t'night…"
Harry begins to jog around the stage, flowing to flag up and down, keeping it low and edging the moment for just a few seconds longer.
"Daisy is…" He raises the flag one more time, keeping it at his shoulder. "Coming out as…" He continues, lowering it down to his thigh.
He looks over to the band, signaling for the music to get bigger and louder. Harry suddenly shoots the flag up higher than his head, as far as his arm can reach upward.
"Gay!!"
The entire venue cheers. Fans, staff, and crew alike. But most importantly, as Harry runs to the place he can get the best view of his friend, he sees YN and her parents embracing Daisy in a big, tight, loving, and accepting hug.
Tears start to form in his eyes as he continues to wave the flag above his head.
"Daisy! You did it! You're officially out and I am so proud of you!" He shouts, hoping the shakiness in his voice didn't prevent the words to fully be heard and understood. "I hope I did this moment justice for you! Ev'rybody, give it up one more time for Alfie, and Daisy, and for anyone else who has been brave enough to share who they truly are with those they love. You are free!"
Harry focuses his gaze on YN, Daisy, and their family, watching all the love being shared between them.
"You are finally free!"
This blog is a safe space. I celebrate all of you who have been able to come out and share who you truly are with the world. I stand by with all of you whom have yet to do so, no matter the reason. I am proud of every single one of you! Happy Pride Month to all!
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Summary: Flight Attendant Y/N meets Captain Harry Styles for the first time and they join the mile high club, sort of.
Pairing: Reader y/n X Captain Harry
Word count: 4,207
A/N: Hey everyone! So sorry I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve been on holiday the last week and that is what inspired me to write this 🥰As always, please feel free to request anything! Hope you enjoy!
One of the things you enjoyed most about being a flight attendant was the thrill of being able to visit new places, if only for a brief period of time.
You had worked for British Airways for 3 years now and soon you would be hoping to step up to Team Leader where you could help train and look after new flight attendants.
You usually only did short-haul flights out of your base which was London Heathrow and flew across Europe; the longest flight being 6 hours. Short hail suited you, you typically flew to 3 or 4 places within a day and by 1 am, you were back in your bed. That’s if all went to plan. For today’s first flight, you were heading to Dusseldorf in Germany, somewhere you regularly flew to.
You parked your car in the staff area of the airport, changed out of your trainers and into your small black court shoes as driving in heels was never comfortable.
You pulled out your small case from the boot of your car which contained a spare uniform because you won’t be caught out again; on a previous flight a passenger spilt their red wine all over you one time and you had no spare shirt to change into, your water, your lunch because aeroplane food was awful and some spare makeup to top up with in between flights.
You smoothed out your navy pencil skirt, so old fashioned you thought, and tied the red, white and blue scarf around your neck ready to enter the airport.
You headed straight for security and through the fast track lane since you were crew. Once past, you headed to the staff area to check which gate you had to go through to get to the aircraft.
Approaching gate 7, you showed the staff your pass and they nodded and let you go.
You headed towards the aircraft, where you saw the First Officer; Andy doing the pre-flight walk-around. You had flown with Andy for the best part of a year and you knew him well. He got into flying after he fancied a change in career from being in the police. You always liked Andy, he was a father to 2 girls who he adored and always made the typical dad jokes which meant it was normally a good flight with him
“Alright wee one, nice to see you” he smiled at you. “Hey, how are you?” You smiled back at him.
“I’m good, ready for 12 hours of pure joy?” He joked and you laughed. “Always” you replied.
“Who’s the Captain today?” You asked, always fearing if it would be one of the older, slightly rude Captains or one more relaxed and friendly.
“New guy, Styles his name is. Seems like a good bloke, think Daniel already has the hots for him” he winked and you laughed.
You relaxed at the mention of Daniel who you had become best friends with after you had both started the job on the same day. You loved working with him as he always seemed to make the flight go in faster.
“Hey! Am I glad to see you today” you said once inside the aircraft.
“Hey!!” He said hugging you “I’ve not been with you on a flight for ages, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do!” he said excitedly. You laughed as he always saw working with you as gossip sessions rather than working.
You headed towards the front portion of the plane where the crew placed their bags and got ready for the flight. You glanced in at the cockpit where you saw the Captain sitting doing the necessary paperwork before departure. Although you could only see the back of him you could tell he was wearing his black double-breasted black jacket with the 4 gold stripes on both the epaulettes and the sleeve of his jacket; showing his ranking as Captain.
He had short, dark brown hair which you could tell had been meticulously styled that morning as not a hair was out of place. You had never worked with this captain before, so you weren’t sure what to expect from him; some captains could be so far up their own, you weren’t allowed to speak to them unless spoken so you kept quiet and put your things away and headed back out to the main cabin to find 2 more girls who you didn’t recognise arriving onto the plane.
“Hi, I’m Emma, Team Leader for today. Nice to meet you” the tall blonde girl who was wearing a minimal amount of makeup but still managed to look flawless said to you.
“Hi nice to meet you, I’m y/n” “Lovely name, I’ll go sit my bag down and we can start the briefing” she smiled.
You noticed the other girl who had since boarded, she looked a little more reserved so you decided to introduce yourself.
“Hi I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you” You smiled at her to help relax her. She looked young and a little unsure, she was maybe 18 or 19 years old so you assumed she hasn’t long qualified as cabin crew. You remember how nervous you were for your first few flights so you decided you wanted to look out for her during the day
“Hey, I’m Holly” she said. “Not long qualified?” You asked kindly.
“This is my 2nd flight” she said and you smiled.
“Don’t worry I remember my first couple of flights, it’s nerve-wracking but you’ll soon get the hang of it. There’s no better way to learn than doing it so if there’s anything you need a hand with today, just let me know. I’m always happy to help” you smiled.
“Come on, I’ll show you where to put your things” You smiled and led her towards the cockpit.
“So you can grab anything you need out of your bag and put it in the fridge if you’ve got a sandwich or anything like that, otherwise you can pop it in here and lock it, we all put our bags in one locker together
“Ahh, I thought I heard some voices. I was just coming to do the briefing” you heard the captain say from behind the cockpit door. You stood up straight and smiled at him coming out.
His eyes fell onto you first and he smiled “Harry Styles, pleasure to meet you” You shook his hand that he had extended for you and took in his beauty. He looked young, maybe 29 or 20. He had green eyes and fair skin which had a slight tan to it, making the dimple on the left side of his face more prominent.
“Y/N, lovely to meet you, Mr Styles”
“Please, call me Harry” he told you and you smiled at how genuine he seemed. Most captains would only allow you to refer to them as Captain and their last name so it was nice to have one who was more relaxed.
“This is our newbie Holly, this is her 2nd ever flight today” you smiled as you introduced the new recruit to him.
“Holly, nice to meet you. I’m Harry, hope you’re settling in well?” He asked kindly as he shook her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Captain Styles, yes settling in very well thank you” she sheepishly replied. It always was a bit intimidating to speak with a captain, especially ones you didn’t know much about.
“Call me Harry please” he smiled. “Shall we move to the cabin and start the brief?” He asked and you nodded, moving to the front part of where the passenger seats were located.
By this point, everyone was now in the cabin waiting to start the briefing. The captain introduced himself to the remaining crew members before you all took seats at the front of the plane.
“So my name is Emma I’m one of the British Airways Team Leaders and I’ll be working as number 1 for this shift. Today we’ve got Captain Harry Styles and First Officer Andrew Simmons on the flight deck. For cabin crew today we’ve got Daniel, Holly and y/n, I think we’ve already met each other by now yes?” Emma asked as she pointed to everyone during the introductions.
“Great, it’s a Boeing 777 we’re on today, I’ll let Captain Styles and First Officer Andy talk more about that in a bit. There are a total of 6 flights today; Heathrow to Düsseldorf, Düsseldorf to Heathrow, Heathrow to Las Palmas, Las Palmas to Heathrow and then Heathrow to Venice and Venice back to Heathrow. Full flights on all destinations so we need to be on top of our game in the cabin, Daniel can I ask you to be number 2 today? Holly, do you mind being 3 today and y/n as number 4?”
Number 1 meant you were looking after the passengers in the front of the plane, number 2 was in the middle of the plane, number 3 was in the back section of the plane and number 4 was an additional person who helped the rest of the team, including the flight crew.
You nodded in agreement, secretly glad you were given the position of helping to look after the captain and the FO.
“Captain Styles, do you want to run through your information?” She asked and he straightened up in his chair.
“Yeah sure I’ll just introduce myself a little more since I’m a new face to a lot of people. I’m Harry I’ve been a Captain now for 5 years having previously worked for Ryanair before moving here 3 weeks ago. Please call me Harry because Captain sounds old and although I’ve recently hit my 30s, I’m not quite there yet” This gained a few laughs from the crew, including yourself.
So he was attractive and funny? The more he spoke the more you found yourself more and more drawn to him. He was charming. But not in a cocky way, he seemed genuine and the fact he was a Pilot told you he was smart. Very smart. You always did have a thing for intelligence.
“We’ll be cruising around 30,000 feet once up in the air, weather looks good, clear skies with a 30% chance of light showers. The weather in Düsseldorf is 23 degrees which doesn’t concern us as we’ll have a 20-minute turnover before boarding to come back to the UK unfortunately, bet you wish you’d chosen long haul now Holly?” Harry joked at the fact that although travelling throughout Europe, you hardly ever got to even leave the plane.
You all laughed and Holly agreed. Harry continued with the briefing, telling you about the time durations, and quizzing everyone on emergencies, something which was legally required to ensure all crew knew what to do in the event of one.
“Thanks everyone, I think we can start boarding now” Harry smiled and Emma nodded, knowing to start the boarding procedure.
“Y/N can you help Holly if she needs a hand opening the rear door?” Emma asked and you nodded.
You headed towards the rear of the cabin with Holly behind you.
Once everything was set for boarding, you headed towards the middle of the cabin to help passengers find their seats and help with any luggage they had.
Luckily, boarding took 20 minutes and before you knew it, you were doing the safety demonstration for the passengers while the plane reversed out of the airport and to the runway. You could hear Andy’s voice informing the passengers of the information Harry had relayed to you earlier about the weather etc to keep them up to date.
With the safety demonstration over and having checked everyone had their seatbelts on, Emma nodded to you to signal that you could sit down and prepare for the take-off.
“Cabin crew take seats and prepare for take-off” you heard Captain Styles say and you smiled a little at the sound of his voice.
You sat down at the rear of the plane next to Holly and fastened your seatbelt.
“I’ve done hundreds of flights and I never get bored of the take-off or landing” you said to her quietly as you could feel the plane taxing down the runway.
“I’ve done a handful and still get nervous” she said and you squeezed her hand a little to let her know it was okay to be nervous.
He must have gone from 50mph to about 170mph in less than 30 seconds because before you knew it, you were being hauled into the air with such speed that you swear your heart fell out of your arse. A “fuck” could be heard under Holly’s breath and you laughed.
That was a sure sign of a good takeoff. For a plane to take off at such speed it requires a good sustained acceleration which was exactly what Harry did.
So he was attractive, funny, intelligent and good at lifting 150-ton planes off the ground? Was there anything this Pilot wasn’t good at?
As the plane climbed into the air, Andy’s voice could be heard over the intercom “Ladies and Gentleman please remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened until the captain has switched off the seatbelt sign. Thank you”
A common command that was often used for eager passengers who would immediately take their seatbelts off as the plane took off the ground.
10 minutes in, the seatbelt sign was switched off and people started to immediately stand up to use the toilets, it always looked like the hunger games you thought.
Because the duration of the flight was only 1 hour and 25 minutes, only the drinks and snack service were required so you and Holly started with that as one of your first tasks, hoping to keep the passengers settled.
Halfway through the service, the alarm which alerted cabin crew to the cockpit was rung and so as the number 4, you left the drinks cart and headed to the cockpit.
You straightened out your skirt and pushed back a few loose strands of hair before knocking and going in.
“Everything alright?” You asked politely squeezing through the small door and inside the cockpit.
“I’m just gonna nip to the loo” Andy said and you nodded, understanding. It was policy that the cockpit operated a “2-person flight deck” which meant 2 people had to be in the cockpit every second the aeroplane was in use.
Andy exited and headed for the toilet.
“Come and sit down” Harry said to you as he glanced over at the seat Andy had been sat in. You moved and sat down in the First Officer’s chair.
“How’s everything out there?” He asked looking over at you. The plane was now set on autopilot meaning it no longer required the captains' manual control, rather a system was being used to control the path of an aircraft.
“Yeah everything’s good, no difficult passengers yet, although what are the chances I’ve jinxed it now” you laugh.
“For the next 5 flights, we’ll have the worst passengers in the history of aviation” he joked and you laughed at his quick white
God, he looked so good sitting there. He had taken off his jacket which revealed a clean crisp white shirt, still showing the 4 gold stripes on his shoulder, but the shirt revealed tattoos. Tattoos which made you feel there was a lot about the Pilot you wanted to find out about.
“Great takeoff by the way” you remarked to him and he smiled lightly.
“Thanks, I’d practised take-off loads in flight school and then just lots of experience I suppose”
The way he spoke was so gentle but also with such passion for his career in his voice.
“What about you, how long have you been in the air for?”
“I’ve been cabin crew for 3 years now, I love it. I was saying to Holly earlier that no matter how many times I fly, I still get the same buzz each time we take off and land”
You watched as his lips turned upwards into a smirk “You’ve not experienced my landing yet, wait until you do”
You laughed at the comment and right on time, Andy came back.
“Fancy swapping jobs for the day?” He joked when he saw you in his chair. You laughed and got up “No thank you, I’d rather not be responsible for 130 passengers” you said and they laughed.
“You guys need anything before I head back out?” You asked them both.
“Could I get a tea if possible please y/n?” Harry asked you politely.
“Of course, how do you take it?”
“Milk and 2 sugars” he told you and you took a mental note of it.
“Nothing for me thanks y/n” Andy said.
You headed back to the cabin, being stopped multiple times by passengers to ask for certain things before making this Captain his tea.
You knocked on the cockpit door and went in.
“Here’s your tea for you” you said handing it to Harry. He smiled and took it off you “Thanks” You headed back to get a Karen in row 21 the G&T she had previously asked for .
“Y/n!” You heard your name being called by the captain from behind the door of the cockpit you had just been in.
You sighed a little, sensing something was wrong and headed back in.
“That’s the best cup of tea anyone has ever made me” he remarked as he smiled at you.
You laughed slightly “I’ll add tea-making skills to my CV then”
“Honestly it’s perfect, I might have to request you on every one of my flights so you can make me the perfect cuppa”
“Right you two, enough with the flirting. Styles we’ve got 25 minutes until landing” Andy jumped in and you and Harry both laughed.
Andy winked at you and you continued with the rest of your tasks.
You arrived in Düsseldorf, with a very smooth landing from Captain Styles at 7:20 am with the next flight at 8 am, giving you a 20-minute turnaround time to get things ready for the next lot of passengers boarding. It was a quick turnaround and before you knew it, you were taking off from Düsseldorf back to London
Landing back at Heathrow at 9:30 am, the next flight was at 10:15 and already there was an issue.
A nervous passenger was starting to feel unwell and wasn’t sure if she would be able to fly to Las Palmas. You and Emma were trying to convince her that the 4-hour and 30-minute trip would be completely safe and she had nothing to worry about.
“I can’t, I can’t fly. What if the plane crashes or falls into the sea? I can’t swim, I will drown and die. I can’t” the passenger who looked no more than 25 said.
“I completely understand your nerves, I can assure you that aeroplanes these days are made to be very very safe and the chances of anything happening are so very slim” you tried to reason with her.
Meanwhile, Emma had instructed Daniel to tell the flight deck what the delay was.
“Hi, I heard we’ve got a nervous flyer?” You heard the same voice who had complimented your tea-making skills say from behind you. The woman nodded.
You looked up to see Harry standing in the cabin, looking to speak with the passenger.
You stepped back and let him crouch down beside her in her seat.
“I’m Harry, I’m the Captain who’ll be taking you over to Palma today. Can I ask your name?” He asked kindly to the passenger.
“It’s Rebecca” she said.
“Okay Rebecca, it’s nice to meet you. So Daniel explained to me that you’re quite nervous when flying?”
“Yeah, I worry the plane will crash or fall into the water”
“Okay I can see why those are concerns, the risk of a crash or the plane failing and falling into the sea is 1 in 11 million. The aircraft is completely safe and in all my years of flying, I’ve never had an emergency on board, well actually I forgot my coffee once which was a real emergency. I’m a real grump without my coffee” he joked and the passenger laughed, as did you at the comment.
“The team are all here to look after you during the flight and if you need anything at all, you can press this button above your head for assistance and they’ll be right over to help you. Does that put your mind at ease a little bit?” He asked still crouched down beside her.
“It does thank you yes captain” Rebecca smiled.
“Good, we’ll be taking off in around 10 minutes so sit back, relax and try and enjoy the flight as much as you can” He smiled and renters back into the cockpit to being the takeoff procedure.
During the flight, the nervous passenger fell asleep halfway through and only woke up when the plane was safely on the ground. Harry came to check on her as she was disembarking and she couldn’t thank him enough for his kindness in calming her down.
“It’s no trouble at all, you have a good holiday now” he told her as she left the aircraft.
So he was attractive, funny, intelligent, good at lifting 150-ton planes off the ground and great at calming people down. If you hadn’t already fallen in love with this man, by the next 3 flights, you definitely will have.
Thankfully, the following 3 flights were uneventful, except for the drunken guy who had spilt his crisps all over another passenger which you had to clean up.
The last flight from Venice back to base at Heathrow was welcomed. Your feet were sore, your makeup had half melted off and you couldn’t wait to get your hair out of the uncomfortable bun you were required to wear all day.
After seeing all the passengers off the plane, you started to clear up.
“What a day, thanks for all your help guys” Harry shouted down the cabin as he locked it up for the night.
“No problem Captain Styles, hope to be working with you again soon” Emma said to him.
“Likewise, you guys head off I’m just going to do a walk around” you heard him say.
“Are you sure?” Emma said. “Yeah sure, thanks again everyone” he said once more.
You, Holly, Emma and Daniel started to get ready to leave when you felt Harry’s arm touch yours slightly.
“You stay” you heard him whisper into your ear subtly as you passed him to get your bag.
You blushed and swallowed hard “You guys go, I need the loo” you said to the rest of them.
“Go in the airport” Daniel said and you hinted at him to go.
“Weak bladder, you go I’ll see you soon” you smiled at them.
“Text me later!” Daniel said and you smiled as they left the aircraft.
“Weak bladder eh?” The captain raised an eyebrow at you when everyone was out of sight.
You laughed “I couldn’t think of anything else”
He laughed and smirked at you “I couldn’t help but think about you today. That shitty landing in Venice was your fault, I couldn’t think of anything else”
“I’ll just add ‘distraction to pilot’ on my CV as well then shall I?” You joked.
“You’re such a distraction to the pilot,” he said quietly as he leaned in closer to you.
He cups your face in his hands and he leans in and slowly kisses you. The kiss soon starts to grow more intense as moans echo through the cabin.
He’s started to groan in your ear and kiss your neck up and down.
He pushes you down into a seat in the front row by your hips and he kneels down in front of you.
His hands go up underneath your skirt and start to pull on your tights to reveal your bare legs.
"Harry we can’t do this here." You say completely out of breath already.
“You’re right, the toilet is better. Does this count as joining the mile high club even if we’re not in the air?” He smirked as he led you, barefoot to the bathroom.
For the next 10 minutes, you and Harry enjoyed each other’s company in the toilet as he moved his hips slowly inside of you, each thrust getting faster and faster.
You felt like you might collapse soon and he knew it too so he decided to stop just before you orgasmed and let you out of the toilet.
You sat down in the front row, completely out of breath, a little disheartened he’d pulled out before you orgasmed.
He appeared from the toilet, zipping up his trousers and putting his belt back on.
“Let’s finish at my house” he said and you happily obliged. It was fair to say that night you never got any sleep, despite how tired you had been after your shift.
Thanks to Harry giving you the most amazing sex you’d ever had, you had never been more grateful to be an Air Hostess as you had been that day for meeting your now boyfriend, Captain Harry Styles.
#harry styles#harry styles blurbs#harry styles fandom#harry styles concept#harry styles masterlist#harry styles x reader#harrystylesoneshot#harry styles boyfriend#harry styles fanfiction#Pilot!harry#PilotHarry#CaptainHarry#flight attendant#harry styles one shot#hslot werchter#love on tour#hslot 2023#harrystyles#harry fanfic
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☆ on one condition ☆ masterlist ☆
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・
-ˏˋ i'll do it on one condition," harry drinks from his water glass and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "you can't fall in love with me."
"ah, there's the harry i know," lynn flicks her crinkled straw wrapper at his face, and it lands in the middle of his salad. he frowns and tries to fish it out with his fork, but he decides he's not really that hungry anymore. "something tells me that won't be a problem." ˊˎ-
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✰ part six soon ✰
#fine line#harry's house#hslot#love on tour#harry styles#harry styles series#harry styles x oc#harry styles fluff#harry styles concept#harry styles imagine#harry styles smut#harry styles one shot#harry#dadrry#dad!harry#if you squint#friends to lovers#enemies to friends to lovers#enemies to lovers#fake dating#fake relationship#slow burn#boyfriendrry#boyfriend!harry#artist!harry#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles au#harry styles writing
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The Divorce: Part I
Y/N takes on her first high profile case as an assistant at a law firm. Her first client? Harry Styles.
Word Count: ~ 3k
Warnings: none… yet 😋
Y/N wouldn’t say she was particularly brave. Or outspoken. She didn’t like speaking much at all really, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t good at her job. She just happened to be a bit shy. Sometimes she wondered why it was exactly that she wanted to become a lawyer, a job that required more talking than most others. But here she was, assisting at one of the largest law firms in England. Now she didn’t actually do much legal work; she tended to fetch coffee and organise documents but if she ever dared to speak up, people would quickly realise she was much more intelligent than what she was given credit for.
“Y/N! We have a possible case, a big one. I want you as my right hand woman for this ok? Let’s get you out of your shell a bit eh?” Mr Collins strode up to Y/N’s desk, startling her slightly.
Robert Collins was a joy of a boss and Y/N was grateful for every second she worked with him. He knew she was timid and he didn’t push past her limits. But he was encouraging and sometimes Y/N wished he wouldn’t be as nice to her so that she could prepare herself for the real world outside her little bubble where people were ruthless and unforgiving. Robert also had an extremely pregnant wife at home who was ready to pop at any moment which somewhat accounted for his rather happy in office personality.
“Who’s the client? Do I know them?” She asked, standing and rounding her desk to where Robert stood.
“I’d be surprised if you didn’t. It’s Harry Styles.”
Y/N’s jaw nearly dropped to the ground, but she kept quiet as Robert briefly explained the situation. It wasn’t anything they weren’t used to - high profile divorce, with two people unable to come to a decision on what to split between them.
“We’ll need to draft up a plan this afternoon, we’re meeting him tomorrow. He’s doing interviews himself which is unheard of. He’s looking for the best representation he can find which is understandable - the man has assets. Every law firm in the country wants this case. If we get it, it’ll skyrocket our reputation. Do as much research as you can, I’ll send through a file on everything I have. I need this to be airtight Y/N. He’s one of the most important clients we could ever have and he also has reputation for being a bit of an asshole so we… you need to prepare for that. Don’t screw this up.”
“Of course Mr Collins I’ll get right on it.”
Y/N worked for hours, making a solid plan and editing it until she was finally happy with it. She left the office for the night, long after everyone else, arriving home as the sun started to set. After a quick shower and muesli bar (Y/N knew it wasn’t the most filling of meals but she was tired and frankly could not be bothered) she jumped into bed.
Just as she was closing her eyes, her phone buzzed twice.
Robert Collins: Y/N, Linda is in Labour!
Robert Collins : You’re going to need to take the meeting alone tomorrow. You need to do everything you can to secure this deal. Do whatever it takes. We need this case. We need him. If there’s an emergency call me but otherwise I’ll be at the hospital. Will keep you updated.
Y/N’s heart dropped to her stomach. Take a meeting ALONE? With HARRY STYLES. Oh he had to be fucking kidding. With a groan she flopped back into bed and covered her face with a pillow. This was a nightmare.
“I don’t care who it is, I want the best and I want them now. Do you understand? I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what a sensitive matter this is.”
“Yes of course Mr Styles, right away sir.”
Harry slammed the phone back into it’s receiver, before slumping back into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. If you had told him in his 20s that he would be CEO of the largest company in the world before he turned 30, he would have smirked, tossed back his whiskey and said that sounded about right. Harry was sure in himself and in his abilities. He was brilliant at his job, however, he had learned that being brilliant at his job didn’t come with being a pushover. As a result, he was ruthless, harsh and didn’t have a reputation for being the nicest boss. Everyone was terrified of him and he liked it that way. Harry enjoyed control. He relished it.
But, if you had told Harry in his 20s that he would be getting a divorce at 35, he would have laughed in your face, in slight disbelief before protesting that he and his wife were as happy as ever, content and in love. He would have said all of that before he walked in on her fucking her pilates instructor in their bed.
Sofia Styles had dissolved into cries and pleas as Harry calmly ordered the both of them to get out, before resorting to screaming abuse at him when it seemed her begging was falling on deaf ears. She wailed about how he didn’t make time for her, how all they did was argue and how she had needs that Harry wasn’t taking care of. Which was… true. Harry had grown tired of their rather vanilla sex life over a year ago, but Sofia had never been interested in changing up their routine.
Before he had fallen in love with Sofia, Harry was a dominant. He took pleasure in taking control, having women submit themselves to him and writhe beneath him. It was safe, it was consensual, it was fun. God he didn’t remember the last time he had had fun. That side of him had quieted when Sofia had walked into his life. But that wasn’t the point. None of it mattered now.
“Mr Styles? Is everything alright?” His assistant poked her head through the door, shutting it behind her softly as she took in his frazzled state. Harry had hired Nancy a few years ago and despite being in her early 60s, she was the most competent assistant he’d ever had. She was also there for motherly advice whenever he needed it. Nancy knew how difficult it was for Harry to have his mother living so far away, so she made an effort to make sure he was eating well and sleeping enough.
“I’m fine. It’s just hitting me all at once. I’m tired.”
“It will pass Harry. I know you, you’ll be alright. Mr Horan called to ask how you were… you also have a few meetings this afternoon. The legal department also wanted me to let you know that they’ve found candidates. I think they were… frightened to call you back, so they called me.” Nancy said, a wry smile on her lips.
Harry gave her a weak smile in return, resting his head in his hands.
“Tell Niall I’ll call him later and that I’m ok. Cancel the rest of my meetings for today if you don’t mind and tell legal I want to meet them all as soon as possible. Tomorrow if they’re able.” Harry scanned his email for the list of candidates pausing as he read one of the names.
“I’d like to see the representative from Collins law firm tomorrow too. I’ve heard he’s quite good."
“They’ve already set up a meeting but actually it’s a “her”.” Nancy corrected.
“Huh?” Harry looked up, confusion evident in his features.
“Meet her. The interview is with his assistant, Mr Collins is caught in a family emergency. Y/N Williams, I believe. She’s Robert’s right hand woman and they specialise in this kind of thing, so you’re in good hands.”
Harry raised a brow.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Don’t scare her away Harry. I know how you can be.” She chided and Harry scoffed.
“That’ll be all thank you Nancy.”
With a roll of her eyes, the older woman shuffled out of the office, closing the door behind her.
Harry rubbed his eyes in irritation, resting his head in his palms. It was going to be a long day.
“Your client is WHO?!?”
“Harry Styles, you heard me the first time Lauren, and keep your voice down! I’m not supposed to say anything, it’s all very private and quiet because of who they are. And he isn’t my client yet.” Y/N exclaimed to her best friend.
Lauren had a tendency to get overexcited about things but Y/N had to admit she had butterflies in her stomach about this too. Harry Styles was without a doubt one of the most attractive men she had ever seen and the fact that she was meeting him today had her wrecked with nerves. She was curious as to what had made his marriage fall apart, at least she assumed that’s what she was hired for, given her specialty. Maybe he was bad in bed, but she doubted it. Maybe he cheated on her? Did she cheat on him? Maybe-
“Y/N! I’ve been calling your name for like 5 minutes what could you possibly be daydreaming about? Mr Styles?” Lauren laughed at the stunned look at Y/N’s face as she came back to earth.
“I wasn’t daydreaming about him! I was just thinking… I wonder what he’s like.”
“Well you’re not going to find out if we keep talking, you’re going to be late babe, go!”
So, after a few words of encouragement, Y/N made her way to the meeting, breathing heavily as she pulled into the carpark.
Styles Incorporated was one of the largest buildings in the city. It had 68 floors, high ceilings and windows that were always shining. Y/N made her way inside, slightly taken aback by the atmosphere. There were hundreds of workers but it was so quiet, almost as though they didn’t dare make a sound. Y/N grimaced at the sound of her heels clicking on the tiles, walking towards reception.
“Hello, I’m Y/N Williams, I’m here for an interview with Mr Styles.” Y/N said politely, almost in a whisper due to how quiet the building was.
The woman at the desk peered at her from behind her glasses.
“He’s expecting you. 68th floor. Glass office, you can’t miss it.”
“Thank you. Anything I should know before I go in?” Y/N meant it as a joke, simply because she was nervous, but the woman nodded.
“Don’t speak unless spoken to, don’t ask any personal questions, and address him as Mr Styles at all times.”
Y/N blinked in shock, before nodding and walking quickly to the elevator. Her stomach turned as the elevator rose, and she took deep breaths to calm herself down. The woman at the desk in front of the larger office gave her a warm smile as she arrived, telling her to head on through.
Y/N swallowed at the sight of the man behind the desk, plastering a shaky smile on her face and entering through the door. His eyes remained glued to his laptop as she stood timidly in front of him for a few moments before clearing her throat.
“It’s lovely to meet you Mr Styles I’m-“
“Late.” He remarked, eyes still on the screen.
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re late, Miss Williams. You’re also not who I was expecting.” He looked up at her for the first time and Y/N was taken aback slightly by his features. He looked as though he had been chiseled from stone, all hard lines and piercing green eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass.
“I don’t mean to be rude but I believe I’m right on time.” Y/N checked her watch, noting that it was 10am exactly.
“Around here, if you aren’t early, you’re late. I’m a busy man Miss Williams, if I’m not punctual everything falls apart. Do you understand?”
Y/N exhaled softly, observing the rather irritated man in front of her, gathering her thoughts.
“Of course Mr Styles, I apologise. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, I’m sure this is an issue that you’re eager to move quickly through.” Y/N mentally high fived herself as her voice only shook slightly, even if she had basically rehearsed what she was going to say like a script about 10 times on the way over.
“Take a seat Miss Williams. You look like you’re about to run at any minute and unfortunately for you, I have time.”
Y/N swallowed before nodding meekly and taking a seat on the other side of his desk.
“So I thought I would start with why you should hire-“
“Do I frighten you Miss Williams? You look rather frightened.” He cut her off, a small smirk on his face.
Y/N froze. She didn’t know how to respond to that.
“I’m sorry Mr Styles but I don’t think that’s very relevant to what we need to be-“
“I think it’s relevant. I want to know whether I frighten you or whether you just find me so attractive that you can’t possibly look me in the eye. Maybe it’s both. I tend to have that effect.” He stood, leaning slightly over his desk, towering over her.
“Mr Styles that isn’t very appropriate. It also seems like a bit of a personal question and I’d like to keep this professional.“
“It might not be appropriate Miss Williams, but I am curious. You intrigue me. And as for professional well… I’m certainly not one to talk about what happens inside my office.” He smirked again and Y/N genuinely thought she was about to combust. The betrayal that she felt from the wetness between her legs was also overwhelming to the point where she couldn’t take it anymore. What he was offering she was unsure but Y/N had a job and Robert trusted her to do well.
“Ok well let’s talk. How about we start with the reason you and Mrs Styles feel the need for divorce, so I can properly convince you why our firm is what you need.” Y/N could hardly believe she was rejecting whatever was going on and she also couldn’t believe her voice still worked after all of that.
It was like a switch. One minute he was flirty and suggestive and wildly inappropriate and the next he was dropping back into his chair, the smirk disappearing from his face and instead replaced by a flicker of annoyance and then… sadness? He recovered from his emotive slip quickly and his original stony features were back. It’s a shame, Y/N thought. He’s rather beautiful when he smiles.
“She cheated on me.” He said bluntly.
It took everything in Y/N not to react. But it was almost as though he could tell she was trying to control herself.
“You can laugh. I would. CEO Harry Styles. Has the world at his fingertips and can’t love anyone enough for them to stay.” He laughed bitterly and Y/N almost wished she could give him a hug.
“That’s… not what I was thinking.”
“No? You feel sorry for me then? It’s usually one of the two. It’s alright Miss Williams, when you get to where I am in the world you soon realise that everyone leaves sooner or later.” Mr Styles raised his eyebrows, seeming slightly taken aback by his own admittance. Y/N couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming need to reassure him that he would be alright. It seemed behind his arrogance and cocky persona, he was just lonely.
He cleared his throat, his emotionless mask returning as he checked his watch before looking up at the ceiling and rolling his eyes.
“You have… about a minute of my time remaining before I have other things to be doing. I’ve seen five other candidates today and they were all spectacularly mediocre. So, convince me.”
Y/N hushed the little voice inside that wanted to scream about how he had done most of the talking. Instead, she took a deep breath and explained their plan, just as she had rehearsed in the mirror that morning. She said most of it with her eyes cast downward and when she was finished she raised her gaze slowly, noting the small smirk on his face.
“Ok. You’re hired.” Mr Styles stood abruptly, ignoring the look of shock that flittered across Y/N’s face. Hired? Just like that?”
“Oh really? Well thank you Mr Styles, I’m sure Mr Collins will be in touch.” Y/N gathered her things, slightly relieved to be escaping from the confines of his office.
“Hired on one condition. We win and you go out to lunch with me.” It wasn’t a request. More of a statement.
Y/N’s cheeks flamed as she struggled to compose herself.
“Mr Styles I really don’t think that’s appr-“
“I don’t really care what-“
“Would you stop cutting me off?! For goodness sake let me speak!” Y/N huffed and rolled her eyes, stopping short at the look on his face.
“Oh my goodness Mr Styles I am so sorry, I didn’t mean it. Sometimes my mouth starts working before my brain.” Y/N was aware she was rambling but she couldn’t help it. She’d blown the deal, she must have.
His signature smirk reappeared and Y/N’s shoulder’s relaxed slightly.
“Don’t apologise Miss Williams. I was riling you up. I like a woman who knows what she wants. Do we have a deal?”
Y/N hesitated before thinking back to Robert’s text. Do whatever it takes.
“Ok. I’ll… go to lunch with you if we win.”
“Wonderful. When we win you mean. Now I hate to cut this short darling but I really do have places to be. I’m sure I’ll see you soon, tell Robert to give me a call ok?”
With that, he ushered her out the door, closing it behind her. Y/N stood, frozen for a moment before making her way slowly to the elevator.
What was that?
Harry chuckled to himself as he watched her through the glass walls of his office, talking to herself quietly as she waited for the elevator, cheeks flaming. He got a kick out of making her so nervous, it did great things for his ego. He wasn’t lying, she did intrigue him and if he could convince her, she seemed like the perfect distraction to get his mind off things and a distraction was exactly what he needed right now.
Read Part II here
A/N: So this is part one!! What do you guys think so far? It’s certainly going to get exciting in the next chapter! Thank you for reading xo Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!
@lukesaprince @intimacywithceline @styleslover-1994
#harry styles#hslot#love on tour#harry styles ceo#harry styles series#harry styles one shot#harry styles au#harry x reader#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles fic#harry styles smut#harry styles y/n#harry#harry styles writing
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Harry’s Home
Part III.
Read Part 1 Here!
Read Part 2 Here!
Pairing/AU: Roommate!Harry // Roommate!Y/N
Word Count: ~ 4k words
⚠️ Content Warnings: Adult Language, Pining, Sexual Desire, References to Body Weight (“Chubby” Reader), Fantasies of Rough Sex, Breeding Fantasies, Exhibitionism, Explicit Depictions of Masturbation(M&F), Dirty Talk, ~Slow Burn~
So, yeah. Harry and I have successfully become somewhat close. We’ve put up with each other’s shit for long enough and eventually bonded—or whatever the hell you call it when a pair of sex-starved adults live in close quarters and they decide to play nice so the walls don’t come down on them.
Even though it’s the time of year when I can see my breath and I have to wear socks to protect my chilly toes when I’m lounging around the house, when I’m around Harry…I might as well be a tea kettle on the verge of squealing in steaming agony. I guess you could say I’ve been in heat.
I’m catching myself spacing all the time, hypnotized by his comfortable routine. He grasps my attention like it’s second-nature to him, and I have no other choice but to relent—to surrender. How fucking pathetic is that? Like, get a grip, woman.
But seriously, I can’t take it anymore. I turn powerless and my body betrays me, simply from the man meeting my eyes with his from across the room. For someone to hold this much control over another human being by just existing…not only is it completely unfair, but it feels otherworldly. It’s as though a connection has been birthed out of the rawest, most sinful form of lust, with its sole purpose to fuse a pair of unwed and horny humans. Thus latching itself onto the two of us, melding an incubus with a siren.
I guess it could just be some crazy-intense sexual tension, too. There’s no fun in that explanation, but whatever. The point is that I can’t fucking take it anymore. Me being so mesmerized by him performing the most mundane of tasks—unscrewing a new jar of jam, rubbing the sleep out of his face as he stumbles out of his bedroom, sneaking little peeks at me from across the room and smirking to himself after he looks away. God. That smirk keeps me up at night…my hands groping myself and massaging my clit to lull myself to dreamland.
Right…so about that…
For the past few months, Harry’s been able to hear me fucking myself through the thin wall that separates our two bedrooms. The divider does absolutely nothing to silence me and my explicit acts of self-pleasure. These walls couldn’t muffle a mouse, let alone an ambitiously horny, and impressively vocal young woman who’s desperate to get her rocks off…hard.
And I’m certain he can hear everything—every gasp, every whine, every slick plunge of my fingers—or a toy—as they’re used in a merciless attack on my own body in order to chase an unattainable high…It's loud. It’s filthy.
It’s pornographic.
And yet Harry indulges in my songs. I know he does. The only way I’m able to get myself off is to picture him on the other side…to close my eyes and astral-project my way into his room and assume the role of the voyeur…as the exhibitionist. I’m a walking oxymoron.
I imagine my waves of ecstasy seeping through the walls to awaken his neglected cock in his tight briefs.
I think to myself,
…I bet he’s wondering whether or not I'm messing with him...if I know he’s listening to me…and if, perhaps, I want him to listen…
If only I were just playing a sick game of tease…Such a possibility would be utterly humiliating for Harry. He loathes feeling like his control is in the hands of another. Said power landing in my hands? Oh…No, no, no. Lest we forget the towel incident? Don’t let the sensitive late-night talks, the apology hugs, or the sleepy cuddles fool you; a switch, Harry is not. Not that he’s told me or anything, but it’s a feeling. When he drags his eyes down to slowly assess me…there isn’t a doubt in my mind that he’s in charge.
He has a limited threshold for teasing and babying, which is precisely why he shooed his own mother out the door after a mere 5 minutes of her jests. Harry spent his entire life as the baby. I sense he’s needed a release for quite some time…and it probably doesn’t help matters that my playful antics are sure-fire triggers for his dark dominance to take over. I think he’s struggled to find the right mate to unleash that part of himself with. At least completely, that is. And I hope I’ve been pressing just the right buttons to experience it all for myself.
But yes, I’ve been fucking myself with lotsa gusto knowing he’s in close earshot of the action. Hopefully, he’s come to successfully make sense of some of my muffled ramblings beyond his wall as, “Yes, Daddy!” as well as the occasional gasp or moan of “Harry.” What? I like it…
Although I’d love to exacerbate the narrative that this has all just been a cruel game started by yours truly—a game that I’m winning, to be clear—I'm actually not messing with him. This had begun purely by accident, and now I'm just continuing to provide some adult entertainment for my, uh...housemate and…good friend.
Before you scold me for being a perv, let me just finish explaining the situation. Because if Harry had a problem with something I did, he’d tell me. And he never complained about this. Never.
Quite the opposite, actually.
The first time I did my private deeds with Harry eavesdropping in the next room, I'd initially felt horribly embarrassed. I hadn't realized how shameless I was, or how loud and desperate the noises were as they came out of me. Once I finally caught myself, it was like space and time had spun to a stop, and I was painfully aware of my raw indecency.
I wasn’t watching porn, reading erotica, or listening to naughty audio recordings. Nope. Only my lustful thoughts fueled the eagerness in my fingers as they played with my pussy. I’d also been blatantly inconsiderate of Harry and his right to privacy whilst they did. I felt dirty. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Pfft, I was hardly thinking of anything. It reminded me of the time just before we moved into this house…when I lurked on his social media pages for the images of his slick, half-naked body which burned themselves into my memory, all just to use him for my own personal, sick, sexual gratification.
And there I was again—now cohabiting a space with the very inspiration for my filth and frustration—lying comfortably atop a spacious, girly pink towel to protect my bed linens from succumbing to my wetness. My knees were spread apart and my dripping cunt was on full display for my closed door across the room. If anyone walked in, they'd unknowingly be entering what many theme parks tend to call a “splash zone.”
Luckily, Harry was in the living room watching some melodramatic video essay on YouTube…Or at least that’s where I’d left him before ending up in the not-so-innocent position atop my mattress.
I hadn’t thought about the fact that the house wasn’t empty until I heard my own whiny sighs combined with unmistakable slippery pussy-rubbing echoing throughout the room. My cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink once I’d realized the extent of my elevated volume. There was no way Harry couldn’t have heard all that. And I had no idea how long I’d been up to it, or for how long at that high of a frequency.
The click of a door closing nearby interrupted my nervous internal monologue—Harry’s door. He was mere meters away from my partially-nude body, but my private quarters kept me safe from any judging eyes. The wall our bedrooms shared stood as the only barricade between our two bodies. For a while, I dismissed my initial self-awareness and I slowly, and carefully, swirled my drenched fingertips over my clit. More of my liquid arousal coated my petite hand. For some reason, the idea of Harry walking in on me like that had me feeling hot. Realistically, that would’ve meant immediate, devastating humiliation. Did that mean I was into that? I’d say yes judging by the way I was pulsing around nothing whilst staring at my door, picturing the man himself standing there smirking at me…tilting his head and patronizing me.
…Aw, would you look at tha’…Does that feel good, Sweet Bunny?
“Mmhmm.” I found myself nodding with a sigh, my eyes relaxed and veiled. My mind refused to backtrack, and instead doubled-down. I probably should have stopped myself right there, but fuck, could self-sabotage feel good.
My brain directed me towards thinking about how pretty and sweet I was on the outside. My body, soft, and my features, so delicate, but so grabbable. Every part of me had an ample amount of plushness to squeeze. To manhandle. My tiny wrists and my elegant neck, the perfect size for a pair of big hands to wrap around. I bit my rosy lip on a whine, then brought my thumb up to rub and tease it before sucking on it. The sinful acts my mouth performed were a secret I kept with the few lucky men who’d experienced it for themselves. I wanted so badly to share that with Harry…I wanted to share all of myself with him.
“Mmm…Harry.” I moaned aloud, releasing my wet thumb and sneaking it under my shirt, swiping the slick pad back and forth over my sensitive tit.
It was hard for me not to think about Harry whenever I touched myself. I thought about his fingers playing with my hair, him burying his face into my neck the times we cuddled…feeling his hard-on against my ass on the couch…the times when he’d hugged me…and catching his gaze drift down to my tits…I bet he’d thought I’d never notice, even after having done it multiple times in a single conversation. Hmm…was Harry Styles an ass man or a tit man? Or was he something else…? He certainly liked looking at my boobs…and I'm able to confirm that his body has a very positive reaction to pressing up against my butt…
Honestly, I didn’t even care what parts of the body Harry liked the most. All I cared about was how badly I wanted to feel him use mine. I wrapped my small hand around my throat and arched my back up off of the mattress, gasping as I mindlessly pushed two hooked fingers inside my tight opening, picturing a certain tall, curly-headed British man molesting me instead. The sound of my own moans enhanced my pleasure as I rode myself towards peak bliss. My modesty had become non-existent as my hands worked each sensitive spot between my legs and teased at my pebbled nipples. A part of me needed him to hear me that night. I was getting off on that taboo. But that’s all it was…my imagination.
It was just a silly little fantasy. Harmless exhibitionism. I wasn’t actually being that loud…—but that’s when I suddenly heard more feedback beyond the wall. It’d been some time since I’d heard the door click shut. My personal distractions got in the way of keeping track of time.
There was an urgent fumbling. A repetitive clinking. The sound resembled a bit of metal hitting other metal. But it was light. Small. Following that, I heard a rough yank and a soft plop as whatever the item was had dropped heavily onto the carpeted floor. An unmistakable hum of a zipper quickly came subsequent to the discarding of the first mystery item—but it was no longer a mystery to me as my sex-clouded mind pieced together what I was hearing. The hands nestled between my thighs slowed at the realization.
Well, Harry’s just changing into his pajamas for the night, right?
My audible x-rated activities bouncing off the walls for several minutes whilst my roommate innocently removed his pants next door…maybe I was overthinking this…I remembered calling out our "goodnight"'s to each other around 10 minutes before I slipped out of my panties and began to shamelessly pleasure myself. He was still in his business-y work clothes when I left him in the living room…and I knew I just heard his bedroom door click shut in the middle of my alone time. And at that point, Harry was right there. He was just trying to unwind, yet happened to be in the room adjacent to mine. It was probably too awkward for him to ask for me to quiet down.
Poor guy…ugh. I was disgusted with myself. I felt I needed to end my “session” right there, and
I was mentally preparing a nice apology text to send him. There was no way in hell I'd bring this up in person to Harry the following day. Surely I’d be in tears before I could even form the right words. I didn’t even want to imagine the scenario of Harry, himself, mentioning it to my face. Every possible, horrible consequence of my selfishly lewd deeds played out in my mind. There I was, lying there with my knees bent up and spread wide open—my fingers frozen against where I'm most sensitive. The silence made the throbbing in my clit feel even more desperate.
And then Harry flicked his white-noise machine on.
Oh, God…This was so embarrassing.
I wanted to sink into a black hole and never be seen, nor heard, ever again. The severity of the situation felt devastating to me. Was I truly so grotesque that the beautiful man I lived with had to tune me out with the highest setting of his old, rattly sleep machine?!
Hell, I was more than embarrassed, I was fucking humiliated. For real, this time. And it was all my fault.
I just wanted to disappear.
But just as I was readying myself to book a flight back home to move back in with my parents to spare myself from ever having to look Harry in the eye again…
I heard it.
I heard him.
“…Mmmhh…”
Beyond the hum of the wimpy white noise, there was a raspy moan on the other side of the wall. I thought I was just imagining it, or that maybe it was Harry quietly retching in disgust, but then it happened again.
No, yeah. It was definitely a moan.
I held my breath as I focused upon the sound of an abrupt curse followed by the distinctive sound of spitting.
“...Ahhh, fuck—”
*ptuh*
The grunting and other lewd noises continued. I could only imagine Harry’s tightened fist, wet from his own drool, working diligently at his neglected cock.
“...Mm…h-hm…ugghhh…”
It seemed like Harry's white-noise machine had some impressive competition. My lips curved into a smirk and my embarrassment exponentially subsided.
His growls vibrated right through the layers of paint and drywall—sliding their way under my shirt, swirling around my perked nipples before bolting straight down to my fingertips, coaxing them to push deeper into my heat. Squeezing my thighs together and arching my back, I curled those digits and gasped out audibly. Feminine arousal leaked from my center and down the crease where my ass met my thighs. Everything was so slippery. I’d made a mess of myself within seconds. Not to mention, the pornographic squelch of my fingers echoed shamelessly beyond the slick walls of my cunt.
If Harry’s spit-covered palm was loud enough to hear over the white noise, then I knew the splashy reservoir between my legs was audible too.
Another series of grunts and huffs sounded beyond the wall behind me and the white noise machine was switched off. I retracted my fingers and slid them up and down my slit, teasing myself and picturing Harry rubbing the head of his dick along my entrance. My brow pinched hedonistic agony. Oh, God, did I want him inside me…I needed something…anything…
With my less-saturated hand, I reached over to open my bedside drawer and lifted the lower compartment to retrieve the silk satchel that encased my dildo. My sticky-slick fingers fumbled impatiently with the ties until the toy comically launched out of the bag and bounced itself smack down onto the inside of my splayed thigh. I could just picture Harry laughing at my lack of grace even though he was busy with his own deeds next door. The thought of Harry teasing me about the dildo made me blush a bit, and I smiled to myself, imagining his hand reaching out to brush my hair out of my face, his pupils dilating as he’d sit on his knees next to the bed and lean over me until his lips grazed my ear…
Be a good girl and show me what filthy things you do with this, Bunny…Show me where it goes…Show me how you fuck yourself…
I hadn’t realized I’d done it again. I’d gotten lost in that depraved little world of mine, and I whimpered aloud in response to the Imaginary Harry who was speaking in my fantasy, “Y-you want me to fuck my pussy for you, Daddy?” Maybe it was the Imaginary Harry again, but I could’ve sworn that I heard a silky British voice nearby react, “Goddd…dammit, Bun’…Ugh, fuuuck, yes. Fuck that sweet little pussy f’me, baby, holy shit…”
Laying back down, I brought the silicone cock up to my lips and sucked it into my mouth. I slowly bobbed my head on it and soaked it with my saliva after deepthroating it several times. The sloppy blowjob I gave to my dildo seemed to have been loud enough to be heard by Harry next door, as he voiced out, “Oh my god, Y/N…I wanna fuck that pretty mouth.”
I pulled it away from my tongue, a string of drool dripping from the tip, and rubbed the head of the toy against my sensitive clit whilst I responded, bringing me right back to where I needed to be.
“Mmhh, but you can’t put a baby in me that way, Daddy.”
My own eyes widened and I gasped. I couldn’t believe I’d actually fucking said that.
“Shit! Ughh…Ahh…Ughhhh…Fuck you, Bunny…Almost made me…c-come…Christ—Ohhh, fuck me…”
With my free hand, I sucked on my index finger and let my eyes flutter closed as I pulled it out from my lips, trailing it down my neck, all the way to my breasts. Groping myself as best as I could with the rest of my hand, I used my forefinger to tease my nipple whilst the dildo swirled and swiped around my slickened slit. My breathing picked up quickly. The dildo had eventually disappeared inside my clenching hole. The only audible sounds I remember hearing were those of my own—my high-pitched gasps, the pornographic swishing and squelching of the dildo fucking my drenched cunt, the wet flicking noises of my fingers moving rapidly against my clit…I don’t even remember how loud Harry was at that point, I was too focused on my fantasy—my fantasy with him—to notice. I was so focused, in fact, that I had once again lost all sense of self-control and consciousness, succumbing to whatever had come naturally to me at the time and practically singing out my song of ecstasy for the whole goddamn neighborhood.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…Harry, please. I need your cum…Oh, god, please come inside me. Fuck all your cum d-dee–oh g…–ah! Yes! Yes! Don’t stop!”
As I begged for my climax, Harry seemed to have been on the edge of his orgasm as well.
“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna kill me, Y/N…You want me to fill you up? Be my little breeding bunny? God…You dirty girl…Fuuuck…oh fuck, I’m gonna come…”
“Yes! Yes, Daddy! I can take it! Please! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Aaahhh!”
I unraveled with a squeak followed by a series of breathless sobs, my hands, wrists, and arms working frantically and my eyes rolled back whilst the kaleidoscope of pleasure poured through my body. Immediately after my explosion, I collapsed like a ragdoll with the dildo slowly pushing out of me, and my fingers slipping around on my clit to prolong my high. As my breathing recovered, I listened to the tail-end of the orgasm taking place from Harry’s side of the wall.
“Holy shit…Fucking take all of it f’me, babe—ohhhh, yeah…uhh-uuggh…mmhh…hm…Damnit…’So much…I wish all this was inside you, Bunny…fucking hell…”
I’d slept like a rock once I finally passed out. I wasn’t even worried about what would come the next morning. Nah, I had the upper hand on this one for once. As a bratty submissive, I’d gotten used to being teased and controlled. What an interesting feeling to exist on the other side. God, it felt fucking fantastic. Unfortunately for Harry, he wasn’t as confident…or at least that was what I’d been able to interpret in the days following. Nights after the first one, I’d carry on fucking my cunt until I was physically too exhausted to move my pretty little hands anymore. I swear I’d heard Harry finish at least thrice in one night once. (Impressive, Styles.) As for myself…well, I usually lost count.
That first morning, I awoke with sore arms, a rogue dildo laying on the floor, my limbs tangled inside my sheets, yet a ridiculous smile was perma-glued onto my sleepy, orgasm-spent face. I tried my best to tone it down, as I didn’t want to prance around the house like I’d just risen from a deep sleep induced by a gazillion-and-one pulsating firecrackers of pleasure. Too obvious, you know? Had to act nonchalant. Unbothered.
Who was I kidding—I was the most chalant person I knew. Harry would see right through that charade. But there honestly wasn’t much need for pretending on my part since Harry had actively avoided any and all eye contact with me anyway. I’d never seen the man be so meek. It was truly a sight.
Things would eventually loosen up as the days progressed, especially if it was a work day which meant Harry had an excuse to be miles away from me for several hours. It was somewhat of a bummer because I thoroughly enjoyed this sampling of power I newly held over the man. I reveled in the way our typical roles would reverse the mornings after our little bedtime serenades. They weren’t a nightly occurrence, as I preferred to keep him on his toes; however, they’d happen often enough that I tended to daydream in the middle of my work meetings. I’d even begun to retreat to my bedroom an hour or so earlier in the evenings, giving Harry some lame excuse like tiredness or a headache. In reality, it was me signaling that I needed to get myself off sooner rather than later. Whenever I’d announce my departure, I could feel how much he’d been aching for it all day, too. Harry eventually utilized the same approach to speed up the fulfillment of his own needs. I’d changed up my tempo, my method of pleasure, the filth of my words, even my own positions whilst touching myself. It seemed like it had become almost like a routine for him to wait for me to fall into bed late in the evening. (Yet another one for me to be distracted by…)
Nothing’s changed. I still imagine that he patiently lays atop his soft duvet with an anxious throb booming against his eardrums…That minutes will go by with him training his ear to follow each soft pad of my feet. And then I shut my door. I waste no time before diving my pretty fingers inside the waistband of my underwear and playing with my sensitive little petal—allowing all the filth to freely escape my lips. And every single time we do this, I’m in my room picturing him naked from the waist down, one hand eagerly pumping his dripping length whilst the other massages his balls and perineum. To this day, the waves of simultaneous pleasure are still trapped only by the few measly layers of drywall that stand in between us.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know, I know…it’s been a while…but I’m back:-) and this isn’t the end of Harry’s Home—the final part is basically finished, but I wanted to post this chunk of it since I’d been kind of neglecting my account for months now. I hope y’all like it! Xoxo ~ Régan 💋
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