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jarofstyles · 4 months

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Saccharine- Verboten 9

It's been a little bit! Here is part 9, please message us what you think!

Check out our Patreon for early access + exclusive writing!

Verboten Masterlist

WC- 2.4k

Warnings- age gap, smut, richrry, best friend's dad, etc

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“Sweet Angel.”

His voice never got old. Fingers pried her thighs open, a soft whimper leaving her mouth as she felt his tongue swipe up her messy folds, sensitivity making her jerks before his hands gripped her hips to keep her still. “Uh-uh. None of that. Aren’t you going to let me clean up my mess?” The croon of his sexed out voice made her shiver, splaying her thighs open as she gripped the sheets that had come off the bed slightly. It didn’t matter anyways, they desperately needed a change.

Once she had opened herself back up, she was met with what she was assumed were praises falling from the older man’s mouth. “Bene, così bene per me. Ho incasinato la mia bellissima ragazza. Lascia che ti pulisca.” His hot tongue followed suit, her eyes rolling back as she resisted the urge to clench her thighs together.

This was one of Harry’s favorite parts. Getting to see the mess he made of his girl. 5 days into the trip and he had been a menace. He knew that. His attempts to take it easy had been in vain, as neither of them could keep their hands off of each other, but there had at least been an attempt on his end. It was just difficult when their feelings were finally out in the open and Y/N had let down the final wall he had been trying to tip over with his gentle pushing. She knew how much he liked her, and he was relishing in her unfiltered behavior.

Her shuddery inhale was the sweetest melody, tongue tenderly swiping up again to make sure she was clean of the remnants of their lazy morning sex. A new tradition that Harry hoped would extend back at home. His girl was soft and pliant for him in the dewy mornings. He’d woken up as the golden sun had leaked into their bedroom, the sheer white curtains that slightly hid the view of the city ocean and rock below them being lit a warm orange. A sunrise with the warm Italian breeze drifting through the cracked balcony door hitting his skin as he felt her soft breathing on his chest.

Y/N had not only spread her wings for him, but let him into her cocoon. A warm, snug area where she could be as giggly and as soft as she wanted. Limbs tangled like yarn a kitten has played with, a pure side to her that many didn’t get to even theorize about. He got to hear her little comments under her breath as they people watched out in public, let her babble about her dreams once she woke, took diligent mental notes about things she had never mentioned before- such as always wishing to go trail riding one day, her love of the particular moss colored green tile in the kitchen that she had fawned over for a bit too long, the skincare routine he had watched a million times before but looking at the brands so he knew what else to indulge in for holidays.

Harry was a man in love, love so deep that it sort of startled him when he thought about it. While the actual sentiment hadn’t been actively exchanged, he knew it was mutual. It wasn’t any sort of arrogance, but the way in which her feather soft touches caressed his face and arms. How gentle she was with him, her worries of his thoughts and feels. How she kissed him. Languid and syrupy, her soft mewls against his mouth and desire to be as close as possible even when he was buried to the hilt.

This trip was spoiling him and he was going to take every single moment and marinated in it. When they got back home, they’d have some bumps to go through.

“H-Harry…” Her sleepy voice moaned, a glance up showing her smile. “This isn’t just cleaning me up.”

Correct. The older man had been greedy for her pleasure since the first day they’d connected in an intimate way. Y/N’s orgasms, her affection, the taste of her, they were all his willing addictions. A greedy, greedy man he was, constantly taking if she allowed it. She always did.

“M’Sorry, my love.” He pulled back, pressing a kiss to her swollen clit. “Did a number on you last night… Know you must be sensitive, but you don’t understand how incredible you taste to me.” his fingers kept her spread while his other arm was hooked over her stomach, her hand holding on to his forearm to ground herself.

Y/N’s eyes glazed over as she remembered how he had taken her the night before. Murmuring things that she didn’t know the exact meaning of in Italian, lighting up her insides as he had taken her under the stars on the loungers on the patio. Lips against her ear as her hands had dragged down his back, the wet sound of their sex and distant music from a party 2 houses over filling the night. He had filled her up and fucked his seed back inside of her, whispering about how that was the only place he wanted his cum for the entire trip and how much he adored her.

“How do I taste to you?” The breathless question was asked despite her own knowledge of what would happen next. Harry was a man, a man dedicated to her pleasure and easy to trigger when it came to sex. Y/N had been bent over the kitchen counter with her dress bunched over her waist just from purring his nickname into his ear.

His tongue paused at the top, nose brushing her mound as he chuckled against her puffy cunt. What a question. She knew how she tasted, Harry’s tongue soaked in her having been dipped into her mouth plenty of times- but she wanted to know how it tasted to him. How did he describe the most addicting thing he had ever placed his tongue on?

“Honey.” He drawled, fingers spreading her open again as he took a look at her. “Sweet, sweet honey. My own brand of addiction. Syrupy and sweet, so sticky. Look how it sticks to my fingers, my love.” He pulled his fingers off momentarily and spread them apart, letting her see the strings of arousal webbed together. It was messy, sloppy, and the both of them seemed to have a like for that sort of debauchery. “The taste of you is my favorite. Do you ever wonder why I can’t drag myself away from between your thighs?” He questioned, pulling his fingers into his mouth with a moan that made her sensitive hole clench around nothing.

This man, the one who she had to taunt into being rough and dirty with her, had overtaken her in boldness and experimentation. He’d opened up and uncovered the man she had a feeling laid underneath the pristine shirts and kind eyes. The filth had been underlying and Y/N had caught on early on. Birds of a feather and all that.

“I can’t pull myself away. M’obsessed with how you taste, how you feel… You. You’ve overtaken my mind, my beautiful girl. La mia bella ragazza. Non riesco a toglierti dalla mente. Sono ossessionato.” His last words were muffled as he pulled her clit back into his mouth, Y/N’s eyes rolling back and fingers finding his hair yet again.

—-------

Y/N had been imagining what it would be like to be official with Harry. It had been something that haunted her brain since the day at the pool house. One taste of him and her single burst of confidence had melded into a whole relationship that was beyond her wildest dreams, but this had especially taken her off guard.

Harry had been attentive before they solidified any issues, but to her surprise it had only gotten better. Now it was clear that a barrier, despite it being clear, was hard acrylic. Giving her a glimpse into the nest of comfort and saccharine he could provide. With the barriers shattered on both ends, Y/N had a feeling she was going to develop cavities.

Some of her shock had been chalked up to a poor dating poor pre-Harry. She hadn’t experienced fresh flowers delivered daily, candlelit dinners on the balcony overlooking the italian coast that he cooked himself, gelato tinged kisses, body worship, least of all clear communication. Dating in college had been grim to say the least and that had been a bit of a hint that her hunches growing up would be correct. Despite the knowledge that older men were still just men, after all, she knew she craved a different sort of goal. Maturity. She wanted to be spoiled with affection.

Now that she was getting that, though, she didn’t realize how good it could be.

At first it had made her slightly uncomfortable. The lack of barriers had also introduced a clearer picture of his intentions. Harry wanted to keep her, he’d said so himself, and this relationship was supposed to be for building up their connection. Having his intense stare on her at all times, every single drop of his attention when she spoke, it had made her realize just how half assed her past attempts of dating had really been. He placed his phone face down at the table while they ate, he kept her eye contact, he remembered the tiny things she said. She hadn’t been a fan of clams and he’d made sure to request the dish they had without them, happy to pay extra for a new plate.

As sad as it could be seen as, how bare minimum people could claim, it was so new to her that it had taken a few days to get used to.

One thing she definitely hadn’t expected was Harry scheduling them a spa day. A real spa day, with massage and facials and a high class sauna. All of the bells and whistles that had her eyes wide, hand tangled with his and anxiously held to the front of her body as she looked around the expensive facility. They’d had to drive out of the village for it, Harry keeping it a surprise until they’d walked in.

She’d watched a video on her phone the night prior in bed, showing him a bit as she had said she’d need to get a facial when they got back home for her pores- which he had responded like a true boy about having the necessities for a facial right then- but she hadn’t thought much of it until walking in on marble floors as a boisterous woman greeting Harry in rapid italian.

Was this how it would always be?

“Questa è tua moglie?” The woman gestured to Y/N making her curious. What was she saying? She’d need to learn italian so she didn’t feel left out.

Harry’s fond eyes laid on her, squeezing the hand she was holding against her tummy before replying. “Non ancora. Un giorno, se mi avrà.”

“Oh, che meraviglia.” The woman clapped, looking at Y/N with bright eyes. It must be a good exchange. “Siamo onorati di averti qui. Lascia che ti controlli”

A bit more chatting was finished up before they were whisked over to locker rooms, Y/N being brought over to the women’s and H giving her a kiss on the lips before taking his towel and robe into the men’s.

“I apologize, Miss. I did not know you did not speak Italian.” The woman smiled. “We will ask that you rinse off just a bit. There is a selection of soap. Lavender, Oat, Rose, Eucalyptus and the white is unscented. When you are finished, you can leave out the side door and it will bring you to the massage room where Signore Harry will be waiting.”

Y/N thanked the woman, going into the locker room.

Wow.

It was spacious and beautifully designed with high-end finishes and luxurious amenities, with a sleek design with soothing lighting, plush seating arrangements, and an opulent ambiance.

White lockers lined the walls to accommodate guests, each of which seemed secured with a digital lock- she would need to use her birthday as a code. She was awful with them. . The lockers seemed large enough to hold double of what she had. Harry had handed her a bad with what she assumed held her clothes and whatever else he would think of as necessary. Considering how closely he had been paying attention to her, she trusted his judgment.

She placed the soft white robe and slippers, as well as a fluffy towel down once she found one that she liked, taking a look around the area again. There seemed be plenty of grooming necessities including hairbrushes and combs that you could obviously bring home- but the wooden handles showed they definitely weren’t cheap. This was not going to be a cheap activity, not by a long shot. On the wall near the showers were shelves of tiny bottles of shampoos, conditioners, and body washes. Underneath had white mini loofahs and disposable razors- and Y/N had to remind herself not to be a little rat and steal some to bring home. Temptation would be strong.

It again showed her how well off, wealthy, her now boyfriend? Lover? Was. He had a big house at home, yes, but he wasn’t one to show off besides with his cars and paying for meals. He never flaunted. It had her reminded yet again that she had been plunged into a world she had no idea how to navigate- but she couldn’t say she hated it. She deserved spoiling sometimes. Harry had been trying to tell her that the whole trip, especially after she made comments every time she put on one of the dresses he had bought her at the market.

This was a whole other way of living. Harry had obviously been one of the more down to earth rich folk, but it still made her a little shocked as she took in the qualities of each thing as she did as instructed. This was no cheap hotel body wash. Was- were the combs Versace?! Taking a look at the golden emblem, Y/N had to scream silently into her fluffy robe as she placed it down on the mirrored vanity, separated by walls to give her privacy. Fuck.

What had she gotten herself into? And how could it feel so guiltily good?

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davyllastyles · 1 year

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my favorite fics

Serie - concluded

⚪️ BLACK&WHITE series (completed)

Harry Styles AU

Starting college doesn’t turn out as easy as you expected. Making friends turned out to be a way too hard task for you, so you ask your brother’s, Mitch’s girlfriend, Sarah to help you socialize. Taking you to a frat party, you run into Mitch’s long time best friend, the guy you’ve always had a crush on but haven’t seen in years, Harry Styles. The reunion is shocking, especially because Harry is slowly realizing that you’re not the awkward little teenager he remembers from the last time he saw you. He has a reputation he is trying to get rid of, old habits to lose, but no one seems to believe he can change, not even his own best friends who warns him to keep his distance from you, however it appears to be easier said than done.

SERIES MASTERPOST

⚪️ WILDEST FANTASIES series (completed) 🌈

Harry Styles AU

You’ve been struggling to finish your assignment for Professor Styles’ Creative Writing class. Inspiration is seem to be avoiding you, so to relieve some stress, you mess around with your roommates and write a rather dirty fiction of the hot professor everyone is into on campus. Due to a fatal mistake however, you end up uploading the wrong file as your attachment to your assignment and your wildest fantasies end up in the hands of the person they are about.

SERIES MASTERPOST

⚪️ WONDERWALL mini-series (completed)

Harry Styles AU

Prince Harry is set to take the throne of Eroda in just one short month. There’s a lot to do and handle before he becomes king and he plans to focus fully on his royal duties upon returning to his home. However he didn’t plan to meet a young maid who is never afraid to stand her ground and even talk back to him with no care about his title or class. And most importantly, he didn’t plan to fall for said maid, especially after the circumstances of their first meeting.

SERIES MASTERPOST

⚪️ THE SUN WILL RISE series (completed)

Harry Styles AU

You’re glad to be back at college and away from your family. Everything is back to its normal, but you have a little issue: you told your family you’d bring a date to your sister’s wedding, but you have no actual partner. An unexpected deal is made with the person you couldn’t even consider to be your friend: Harry can take the spare room in your apartment for the semester if he’ll be your date for the wedding. But can you actually live together with a guy who obviously dislikes you and you have no idea why? Can you fool your parents into thinking you’re dating Harry? And what will they think about him? Nothing is ever good enough to them, nothing that’s not as perfect as your sister, Alice.

SERIES MASTERPOST

Don't Stand So Close at @gurugirl Masterlist

In which Anna has a crush on her best friend's author-dad, Harry Styles, and one day he realizes he feels the same. Nothing good can come of a secret relationship, but nothing good can come from telling everyone the truth either.

The House Maid at @gurugirl Masterlist

Set roughly in the early 1920s. In which Daisy and Harry both work for the same house and things don’t start out well for them. However, they soon realize they can’t stay apart and find themselves coming together and falling in love but what happens when jealousy and insecurities come between them?

The Queen's Secret at @gurugirl

In which young Queen Y/n is married to King Edgar and they find themselves in need of a way to get Y/n pregnant as Edgar is infertile. King Edgar's brother in-law, Prince Harry is selected for the task but the deed is to be kept quiet lest the kingdom find out their dirty little secret. Unsurprisingly, the Queen finds herself falling for the handsome prince and he can't seem to get enough of her either.

LOVE ON TOUR: A GROUPIE at @meetmymouth

Serie - In progress

✞ Priest !Harry Masterlist (Perdoe-me, Pai) ✞ ✞

Harry is a priest with a dark secret, but he has a big heart and is looking for someone special to share it with. When Y/n confesses her sins, he thinks she might be the one.

Tales From the Modern Incubus at @gurugirl Masterlist

Harry is almost as old as time and he's got a lot to say. But right now he's hunting for the perfect female to carry his heir (as he must do every century). When Harry meets you, a pastor's daughter, he finds himself strangely obsessed with you in every way but you’re a good girl and Harry is definitely not your usual type. Will the handsome demon corrupt sweet y/n?

The Tiffany Club at @gurugirl Masterlist

In which Camille works at an exclusive sex club for high rollers and she runs into a wealthy handsome stranger named Harry twice in one day. When Harry and Camille realize they want to be together can Harry look past Camille's day job?

all social media blurbs at @lovecanyon

DAD!HARRY X READER MASTERLIST at @lovecanyon

Singer Harry Styles loves being a father. He can’t wait to have more children with the love of his life, YN.

CEO!HARRY X READER MASTERLIST at @lovecanyon

Harry Styles is one of most powerful men in society. his wife YN is the number one female lawyers in New York, her clients are mostly A-list actors and singers.

HARRY X BAND!READER MASTERLIST at @lovecanyon

Harry becomes infatuated with his guitarist who was recommended by his friend Stevie Nicks. Their relationship soon begins to blossom into something more.

SUGARDADDY!HARRY X MODEL!READER MASTERLIST at @lovecanyon

Harry está apaixonado por YN, para quem ele compra coisas. Muitas pessoas dizem que ela o está usando, mas ela realmente não está. YN está verdadeiramente apaixonada por Harry.

Ceo!Harry [🔥🌸⚡️] at @missmielyhoran

(Ceo!Harry × Assistant!reader)

• Only Angel [🔥🌸⚡️] at @missmielyhoran

in which Y/N is the rockstar Harry's hot girlfriend

(90s rockstar!harry)

• Stages of grief [⚡️🔥🌸] at @missmielyhoran

Y/N's life crumbles after her husband of 5 years cheats on her

(Cheating!Harry × Actress!reader)

• Daddy [⚡️🌸] pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 (Fake ig series) at @missmielyhoran

Grammy blurb

in which Y/N's daughter accidentally calls Harry Daddy and the whole world goes crazy...

(Model! singlemom! reader × Harry)

• Little Freak [🔥🌸⚡️] at @missmielyhoran

in which Autumn likes her twin brother's best friend, and maybe he likes her too...

Dad’s Bestfriend Masterlist at @harrysonlylover

Mechanic H Universe at @harrysonlylover

CEO Harry Masterlist at @harrysonlylover

Professor Harry Masterlist at @harrysonlylover

Latina!reader x Harry at @avatar-anna

Maquiador!reader x Harry at @avatar-anna

Better Off at @avatar-anna

Jovem pai!Harry x Jovem mãe!leitor at @avatar-anna

O professor at @avatar-anna

Pregnancy Series ar @avatar-anna

Older Harry at smilesstyless

The Late Late Series at @pasiveagressive

Broken Bones at @pasiveagressive

My shy little boy at @all-my-love-for-harry

model!Y/N & ceo!Harry at @and-im-okay-with-it

Where Y/N is a famous super model & shes married to privacy-obsessed, kinda rude but soft on the inside ceo!Harry

Age Gap - Series at @and-im-okay-with-it

In which Y/N is 20 and Harry is 34, but they share a perfectly healthy, normal, loving relationship. Only, no one approves of it.

Instagram Concepts at @finelinevogue

Little Moments at @finelinevogue

HSLOT at @finelinevogue at @finelinevogue

Love on tour: the documentary at @finelinevogue

harry House at @finelinevogue

loveisland!universe at @finelinevogue

come meet the cast of love island 2022, with lots of drama, scandals and love to be found within the villa…

2021 blurbs at @harrysfolklore

2022 blurbs at @harrysfolklore

ISN’T SHE LOVELY, MASTERLIST ONE at @luvstylers

river anne styles was born july 2, 2011. and the second she was placed on her fathers bare chest for the first time, she instantly became his bestfriend.

his life long bestfriend.

growing up, she was the biggest influence on harry’s career, making him who he is today.

whenever he would be having a bad day, he would sing her to sleep and if she fell asleep to his voice, that just proved he was doing a good job, as long as his little angle was happy

this is his and river’s story.

are you ready?

The Royals Series Masterpost at @luvstylers

google search

princess yn mountbatten-windsor.

the only daughter of diana, princess of wales as well as the new king, king charles iii, as well at the youngest sister to prince harry and william.

growing up, she always wanted to live the life she saw all the royals fans living, a private one, with the ones she loved the most in the world.

so when she met harry styles, everything she ever dreamed of came true.

they started dating in 2015, got engaged in 2017, married in 2019 and welcomed there first child in 2021.

flatmates (on-going) - in which harry and y/n are flatmates and don’t always get along. friends to lovers.

OLDER!HARRY UNIVERSE at @satanhalsey

Harry and Y/N used to play when they were kids, but now they’ve changed quite a bit, and he feels kind of dirty for thinking like that about someone eight years younger than him. (eight years age gap but they’re both +18, harry is the CEO of pleasing, yn is a model AND a nurse, smut, angst, fluff, you know the rules) ♡

GANG!HARRY UNIVERSE at @satanhalsey

Harry’s a guns dealer who promised not to love, until he meets Y/N, the sweet restaurant owner. (fluff, angst, smut, violence, weapons, etc) ♡

Since 2010 at @watermelonsugacry

YN and Harry have known each other since 2010 when they were put in a band together called One Direction. Since the band split up, YN and Harry have kept in close contact, may or may not have grown deeper feelings for one another and have continued to help each other create music. This is their story.

SINCE FOREVER UNIVERSE at @satanhalsey

Harry and Y/N met at fifteen, and now after years of loving each other, join them at crucial moments in their relationship, both good and bad. (fluff, angst, lovers since teens au, smut) PART TWO. ♡

Deaf!Fratboy!Harry at @erodasfishtacos

Not Your Charity Case: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical fraternity guy? (6.2k)🔥

Finally Fitting in: Harry goes homes to meet Y/N’s family. He’s gets more then he expected. He starts to feel like he has a home. (5.6k)🔥

It’s Yours: YN finally meets Harry’s family and it goes just about as well as expected it would. 🔥

BLURBS

CEO!Harry at @erodasfishtacos

This verse is sorted into the timeline of their relationship. If you’re just starting the series - I suggest you start at the beginning but most can be read without. enjoy!

CEOVERSE INFORMATION

DATING AND ENGAGED

PREGNANCY/BIRTH

KIDS

BLURBS W/ JUST YN & H

BLURBS WITH THE BABIES

MLB!Harry (Categorized) at @erodasfishtacos

+ MLB = Major League Baseball

This verse is sorted into the timeline of their relationship. If you’re just starting the series - I suggest you start at the beginning but most can be read without. enjoy!

DATING AND ENGAGED

PREGNANCY

KIDS

BLURBS

JUST MLBRRY & YN BLURBS

HSLOT VERSE (Categorized) at @erodasfishtacos

This verse is sorted into the timeline of their relationship. If you’re just starting the series - I suggest you start at the beginning but most can be read without. enjoy!

LOVE ON TOUR

HARRYS HOUSE

BLURBS

BREAKUP BLURBS

Cheating!Harry Verse (Categorized) at @erodasfishtacos

This verse is sorted into the timeline of their relationship. If you’re just starting the series - I suggest you start at the beginning but most can be read without. enjoy!

ONE SHOTS

BLURBS

Gang!Harry Verse (Categorized) at @erodasfishtacos

This verse is sorted into the timeline of their relationship. If you’re just starting the series - I suggest you start at the beginning but most can be read without. enjoy!

ONE SHOTS

BLURBS

BLURBS W/ THE TWINS

One shots

Dad!Harry at @erodasfishtacos

Adjustments : Y/N is exhausted and tired of staying at home with the baby while Harry tours. Harry just wants to make his family happy but keeps mucking it up. (5k)🔥

Take a Hike: Harry, Y/N, & the baby take a hike while on tour. They encounter overzealous fans and he goes into papa bear mode. (2.2k)🔥

The Brits Dilemma: Harry & Y/N go to the Brits. It’s the first time they’ve been away from their baby. Y/N is struggling but doesn’t want to ruin the night for her husband. (1.8k)

Just a Lesson: Y/N is overwhelmed, Harry is overwhelmed, & Sasha is crabby. Then they get swarmed at the airport resulting Y/N and the baby getting hurt (minor minor injuries). (5k) 🔥

#harry styles x singer!reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles instagram #harry styles x actress!reader #harry styles x !wife #masterlist harrystyles #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles #masterlistdavyllastyles #age gap harry styles

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styleshood4evr · 5 months

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ceo harry blurb

hi!! long time reader first time poster

this is a blurb/beginning of a piece

pls give me any comments/feedback!!!

MATURE CONTENT 18+ ONLY

ceo harry x intern y/n or bottle girl y/n

age gap romance

no warning in this, just plot really <3

Getting an internship at a prestigious marketing firm meant everything to you. It was your senior year in college and this is exactly what you needed to kick start your career. The internship, however, does not pay as it counts towards course credits instead. That’s why you found yourself rushing home on Friday night to get changed for your shift at the club. You were by no means complaining. Your work ethic something you were incredibly prideful of. You counted yourself lucky to land your dream internship and a job as a bottle service girl at an upscale club. You made enough in tips to allow you 2-3 day work nights as to not overwork yourself too much. Quickly you changed into your work outfit, an all black ensemble including a corset top and mini skirt. You took the time to touch up your makeup and add a red lipstick, letting your hair down into its natural waves. Satisfied with your appearance, you left with enough time to grab a quick bite to eat on the way.

Harry didn’t go out often. As the young CEO of a rapidly growing marketing firm, he was an awfully busy man. But, it was Friday, and his mates from college had guilted him into it. His only contingency was for it to be a nice place, one with some sort of dress code that didn’t just let every drunk college kid in. At the ripe of age 30, after a long work week, he couldn’t deal with the dramatics. And the club was nice. A dress code and $200 minimum per table. The music was still clubby but not completely blasting. The women catering to the patrons were beautiful and professional. Harry was a firm believer that a bottle didn’t need to come with a sparkler shooting out. It had once impressed him, but his money spoiled his youthful joy of the delivery. He decided he was happy he came. His friends were making him laugh and he felt his shoulders relaxing. The tie he had been wearing since 7 AM was loosened and his jacket long forgotten.

“Mr. Styles?” Y/N questioned, surprised.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” Harry felt like he needed to rub his eyes clean. His cheeks flushed as he quickly took you in. The sweet intern. The modest, intelligent, beautiful intern. Sure he had noticed your looks. You had a natural beauty that radiated through your bright smile. Perfectly poised and always ready for whatever assignment was given. Certainly the best intern of the current bunch, and possibly ever. Harry hoped you couldn’t see his blush in the dim light. While he was focused on your doe eyes now, he couldn’t help but notice your bare legs leading up to a tiny outfit, with cleavage on full display. Your hair that was always pulled back while at the office was long and framed you perfectly.

You did notice his blush. You couldn’t help your own rise to your cheeks. Mr. Styles was an extremely attractive man. You noticed the same outfit he had been wearing at work, but with less layers. His jacket long forgotten, tie was hanging loose with the top buttons of his shirt undone. You tried not to drool at the ink on his tan skin bearing itself. It was no secret that he had tattoos, he always wore suits to work so you barely caught a peak at any.

“Oi, mate! You know this bird? Why don’t you introduce us?” One of the men with Mr. Styles said snapping him out of his short stupor.

“Well, she’s- uh she’s an intern at the firm, I didn’t know you worked here.” Harry explains.

“Of course you didn’t,” you reply. “I was just making rounds checking on everyone, but I can send someone else over.”

“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Please, just Y/N. At least while I’m working.” You smile at him and his group. Taking orders and clearing empty glasses. When you turned around to head to the bar, Harry groaned. The tiny skirt you were wearing allowed the bottom of your plump ass to just barely show with each step.

“Christ, mate.” Zayn lets his own groan out. “Is there a rule against hitting that?”

“Well,” Harry began. “I suppose it may be unethical. She’s not an employee technically since she’s not on payroll. But I’d like to hire her once she graduates. She’s the best intern I’ve had.”

“In that case, maybe I could-“

“Don’t finish that thought.” Harry interrupted. He was feeling slightly jealous and protective. You looked so fucking hot in your little uniform. But you were so sweet and innocent in the office. He’d guessed you to be involved with someone, or to be focused on school completely. It just seemed to him for you to be an all in, focused girl. A good girl. Harry tried not to let his brain paint you in a bad light. He was pro sex work after all and this wasn’t even that. You simply were an upscale, sexy bartender. The outfit was a part of the job.

You delivered the drinks back to Mr. Styles table. Leaving them with a polite smile and letting them know someone will check on them shortly. You were privy to the men’s eyes on you, but that was usual. When men come to a club like this they were paying premium for the service and eye candy. Possibly a bit sexist, but the 25% included gratuity was more than enough to make up for the prying eyes. Honestly, you enjoyed the attention for the most part. There had only been one instance when an overly drunk man was being crude and trying to touch you but security was top notch and escorted him out quickly.

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butdaddyilovehim-hs · 8 months

Text

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 💋

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@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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jarofstyles · 5 months

Text

Splendore- Verboten 8

They're back. Best friend's Dadrry returns and this time in another country. 👀💋

Check out our Patreon

Series masterlist

Warnings- emotions, slight angst, fluff, I promise there's smut next time

---

Harry’s idea to let them bond together without the worry of someone they know catching them hadn’t been what Y/N expected.

She had imagined a trip into the city, maybe to a few over so they could get used to being out together, to being a couple they wanted to be. Maybe a BnB if he was feeling fancy.

It turns out, he was feeling luxurious.

Italy had been the last of her guesses, not even truly on the brain. The older man had her pack her bags and told her they were going to one of his houses. She had been given the hints of a ‘warm climate’ and to pack those ‘pretty bathing suits and sundresses’ that he loved oh, so much. Y/N did exactly as asked, packing up her suitcase with the cool packing cubes she had bought from being influenced online - she was weak for easier travel- and prepared for at least a bit of fun in the sun. Her suspicions rose when he had mentioned a passport, but when they sat in the first class seats on a flight to Italy, she was in shock.

Harry had laughed at her shock, how she bounced on her heels when she had figured it out when they arrived at the lounge. She had thanked him with kisses to the cheek, her hood falling off her face as she held his far too pretty for a grown man’s face. Y/N hadn’t been to Italy, let alone know that he had a house there. Imagine her reaction when he broke out into Italian, speaking to the gate agent as soon as they landed about something that she couldn't understand. Her attraction to him had already been sky high, but the last few hours had elevated it specifically.

2 weeks. They were spending 2 weeks in Italy, Y/N finally quitting the job she hated with plans to look for another one when she got back, and a weight lifted off her shoulders. Her excuse to Lia had been she was going to go see where her extended family lived, whilst Harry said he had business. It wasn’t a lie- Y/N did have family here, but she wasn’t exactly going to see them.

Y/N’s arms wrapped around his one as they walked through one of the street markets. Harry had been the one to choose her dress, deciding on a white base colored one with tiny baby blue florals covering it. It hugged her waist and flared out, reaching right above her knee and was off the shoulder with tiny puff sleeves- a beautiful one he hadn’t seen before. They’d lazed about in bed sleeping off a bit of the travel from the day prior, but Y/N had been a bit antsy to see things. Harry knew the area well, had spent some summers here with family, and he was a massive fan of the country in general.

Sunglasses hung on the bridge of his nose as he stopped at one of the stalls, looking at the fresh fruit lined up. He hadn’t gone to the market yet, and it was probably a good idea to get some fruit while they were here. “Why don’t you pick out some that looks good to you, hm?” He turned to murmur against her temple.

Y/N wasn’t used to being allowed to be so openly affectionate with Harry. The times they’d gone out back home, they’d still been cautious with how close and sweet they were in fear of their relations being reported back to someone who didn’t need to know. Being in Italy offered a type of freedom that she didn’t expect to feel so good. Hanging on his arm felt so perfect, like it fit right into her own. Letting her arm drop from his, she chose a few things. A few packets of berries that looked particularly ripe and juicy, some peaches that were far softer than any she had felt, and a few red and green mottled apples were placed into the wicker basket she had bought from a few vendors up. She knew Harry was a fan of cherries, so she chose a small bag and picked up a pomegranate for herself before stopping. Looking at him for approval, he simply nodded and took the basket from her to show the vendor.

“Mi scusi, quanto costa tutto questo?” His Italian made her blink. His voice had always been a weakness of hers, but hearing him talk in a different language and sound so… dreamy? She felt a bit wobbly in the knees, eyes locked on his face as he spoke. The exchange was completely missed on the other end, her long lashes blinking as she watched Harry pull his worn leather wallet out from his front pocket and hand over a few bills. She watched his eyes slide over to her, catching her staring point blank as his lips quipped up in a tiny smirk.

“Grazie Signore.”

His hand found Y/N’s, threading their fingers together as they continued to walk with her basket in his hand now. He wouldn’t let her carry her own stuff a lot of the time and as much as it drove her crazy, it also showed that he was a real gentleman. They just didn’t make them like this anymore. That’s why she’s gone with an original model, she supposed.

“Got something on my face?” His smug little smile hadn’t dwindled, their hands swinging slightly in between them as she could feel his happiness. It squeezed her heart in her chest. As many times as she’s seen the man content, she had never seen him like this. This level of happiness, or seemingly free. She could relate, but seeing it in the man who was usually quite reserved and had been known to her as an authority in a way, an intimidation, it was a breath of fresh air. His giddiness was contagious.

“Mhm. A little smug look on that face.” She laughed, rolling her eyes in jest as they continued to walk down the cobblestones. “You’re just very pretty. That’s all.” She feigned a bit more indifference than she actually felt.

“Oh? And it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you look at me like I offered you a lifetime supply of peach tea when I speak Italian?” He rose a brow, calling her out directly on her bullshit. “I do appreciate the compliment though. I prefer ruggedly handsome, a sexpot, maybe. But pretty will do.”

“A sexpot?” Y/N snorted, nose crinkling in distaste as she looked at him over her own sunglasses. “I forgot you’re an old man sometimes. But fine. Maybe I do like hearing you speak in a foreign language. You surprise me, is all.” She shrugged one shoulder, continuing the swinging of their arms. It was odd, how well they connected despite all their seemingly different life points. They melded together like precious metals over a flame, combining in a way that made her positive that traces of him would remain in her forever.

“Good. You’ve got a lot to learn about me.” He hummed, squeezing their joined hands. The man seemed a bit shy with her sometimes, like now that they were out of their normal element, he was a tad more vulnerable. It was something Y/N found to be refreshing. She wasn’t the only one a little nervous. Or perhaps he had always felt like this, but hadn’t felt ok showing it.

“Hm. Let’s look in here.” Harry interrupted her train of thought, pulling her into a stall with dresses.

Harry had a thing for them, as they’d previously discussed. He liked seeing her in flowy, soft dresses that showed off her shoulders and her legs. It had taken her slightly off guard considering she had thought he would prefer to see her in her bathing suits- which, he did obviously enjoy, but he had shown more excitement to see the dresses she had shown and requested them specifically.

“Are you going to get something?” Y/N asked, looking at the colorful pieces hung up on a pole and the rolling racks. They were beautiful, but definitely pricey. She couldn’t fault them for it, as they looked hand made and artists deserved to be paid for their work appropriately. She had to be a bit careful with her spending, though, considering she had just quit her old job.

“Mhm. We both are.” Harry’s words made her turn to him, lifting the glasses off her face.

“Oh? I am?” She crossed her arms, looking up at him with her brows raised, only to be met with a laughing man who scooped her into his arms, pulling her into his chest. She had no time to question before he was kissing the top of her head, pulling back to look at her face.

“Yes. M’gonna be buying you what I’d like to see you in.” He said easily. “And probably some things for myself.” There were a nice variety of shirts and shorts, so he could choose for himself. It was written all over her face, her reflex to argue, but instead of allowing it, he tipped her chin up and covered her lips with his own, cutting off any sort of rebellion. Kissing her for the first time, properly, in a public place. It had caught her off guard, her body relaxing slightly before he pulled back from her. “Just let me. Yeah? It’ll make me happy.” He smoothed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Per favore, bellezza mia. Lascia che ti vizi.” The croon of a whispered Italian sentence, despite her not really knowing what he said besides please, had her core heating up.

God damn, he was good.

“Fine. Fine… If it’ll make you happy.” She whispered back, leaning up to peck his lips again. It took him by surprise, but one he happily leaned into. Harry’s wide grin was reward enough.

After that, it was a bit of a blur. Y/N said yes and no to a few dresses, trying her best to be conservative with the money he was spending because it still made her a little uneasy- but seeing the amount of clothing that he had folded up for himself, it reminded her that he really did have the funds. His home here alone should show her that- but in the back of her mind, she knew she was worried about what people would say.

Gold digger. With him for the money.

It wasn’t that she necessarily cared about anyone else's opinion of her, but she didn’t like the idea of people saying she didn’t feel for him as strongly as he did for her. She would be with Harry if he didn’t have money at all at this point. Of course, she couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a good thing to have. That it didn’t arouse her to know her man could take care of her, that he was successful and driven and able to provide and create things. It did, more than she cared to admit. It just wasn’t why she was with him.

Harry had swept her off her feet, what started out as a fuck in the poolhouse turning into a full blown relationship with feelings and anxious glances and sweet giggles. It was different than past relationships but also, not. The circumstances certainly were unique, the risk especially so, but the full bellied butterflies she got whenever she thought about him, the late night calls, the rest of it all resembled a pure romance.

She acted the part of a spoiled girl well in most other contexts, but actually allowing people to provide things for her had always made her feel a bit uncomfortable. It was never an even exchange. Harry’s expression had been so earnest when he had told her he wanted to do it for her, she couldn’t tell him no.

The shop owner had looked overjoyed, throwing suggestions to them and acting as a personal shopper once she had deciphered what size Y/N would be, a flush on her face as she realized it meant real money for her. That was another reason she let the guilt melt away. Providing income for a local artisan was worth it. Falling into it, she smiled and showed her preferences towards cuts, choosing one of the lilac ones from the rack, a soft linen mustard colored dress with floral embroidery across the bust, a deep red maxi dress with a mix of lace creating pleats, a white wrap skirt, and a few other things that Harry had decided she was getting. Y/N wasn’t about to deny him. It was his money.

By the end of it, they had two bags of clothing, separated to his and hers by the helpful and gracious artisan who kissed both of their cheeks repeatedly and apparently invited them both to dinner while they were here. Y/N didn't know what he had said in response, but she assumed by the large smile that it was an acceptance.

He had a charm about him. She had noticed it, obviously, but as they continued through the market and shopped it became apparent that he just had a magnetic quality to him that had her looking on the interactions fondly. This was an unfiltered view of the man that made her feel a fluttering in her chest, the luck she had stumbled upon by getting to spend her time with him realized fully as she continued their walk. He was a gentleman, stopping and letting her browse one of the pottery stalls so she could choose a mug- finally letting her pay for something herself when she had pouted at him- and decided to get him one as well. Hers had oranges on it, Harry’s matching with lemons.

Italy was far warmer than she had realized though, and her inner thighs were starting to sweat. She needed a break, which she told him in a soft request to go back to the house to relax by the pool. Her body was in desperate need of a shower and far less clothing. This had been the most walking she had done in months.

He had insisted on gelato before they made the trek back up to the villa, Y/N choosing a Tiramisu flavor and Harry getting pistacchio. Leisurely, they walked hand in hand while the bags hung off Harry's elbow and her basket back on her own while they licked at the treat. It was melting fast, her tongue working over the sides to try and constrain it from dripping all over her fingers. Being sticky on top of sweaty and tired was not on the top of her to-do list.

“Messy girl.” His eyes had been watching intently as they paused at the top of the hill to give her a second to breathe. Her tongue flicked over her fingertips as the melty cream dribbled down over the cone, making his stomach burn a little bit. The woman managed to make the most mundane things either utterly adorable or completely erotic depending on the mood. In this instance, he was reminded of her sitting on her knees, lapping up every drip of his cum when he had finished in her mouth. Greedy for it, he had soaked up every moment of her desperation. It was a cherished memory of his he would be happy to relive.

“Perv.” She smirked, shaking her head as she looked him in the eye, taking a long lick. If he was going to be flirty, she was going to return it right back. “Don’t start when we’re out here. If you’re going to be dirty, wait till we’re back in private.” Her hip bumped his before she started off on her own, leaving him to follow right on behind while watching her skirt sway.

—---

“Darling?” A soft voice woke her from her light sleep, cool fingertips brushing over her cheek. The warm ocean breeze and sound of the water and birds had lulled her into a state of relaxation while the sun had begun to set. Eyes peeled open to see Harry smiling down at her, shirt hanging off of his shoulders while he was bare underneath. He was bent down, arm resting on the back of the lounger while the other stroked her face. “There she is. Fell asleep?” He looked down at the book splayed out on her stomach and the half finished spritz on the side table, evidence of the accidental dozing.

“Yeah, m’sorry.” Knuckles reached up to rub at her eyes, peering up at him with a soft grin. “Didn’t mean to. The breeze felt really good.” Finishing with her no longer sleepy eyes, her fingers went to his wrist, urging his hand to cup her cheek the way she liked. “Did you have a good shower?”

Harry had left her out to relax while he had answered a few emails and took a shower, needing to wash the day off of him. Y/N had done so earlier when he had made them food, so it had been his turn. She had told him she was going to relax by the pool with her drink and book and she wasn’t too tired, but it was obvious the day had caught up with her a little bit.

“I did, yeah.” He stroked the apple of her cheek with his thumb, seeing her face relax into the hold he kept. “Missed you a little, though. Much more fun with you complaining about how it isn't hot enough.”

“Well, you take lukewarm showers at best. I like to feel a bit of burn.” She huffed, turning her face to bite the heel of his palm lightly to show her displeasure. “Rude. But, I missed you too. Come sit with me.”

Y/N’s body shuffled over, allowing him to lay on his side next to her. The size left little room between them, but Y/N remedied that as she moved her leg to hook over his waist, sighing as she snuggled up to him. Harry couldn’t control the flip flop his stomach did at her apparent comfort with him, feeling easy enough to do something like that with him. No hesitation now, lips pressed against the base of his throat before she settled in.

“Comfortable?” His voice murmured, hand falling to her bare back to stroke the warm expanse.

“Mhm.” Her replied was hummed, hand resting on his chest as she sagged into his hold. “I’m really happy.”

The words had sounded like it took her a moment to admit. His breath caught, looking at the top of her head as she kept her face tucked against his throat. Hiding a little bit, but he could understand why. Admitting things, feelings, it was intimidating. “Yeah?” He chuckled, letting his blunt nails run over her spine, memorizing the feeling of its ridges under the skin. “Good. That’s all I want for you. I wanted to take you away… let you feel relaxed for once.”

His words vibrated against her cheek, tickling her slightly. She hummed back, twirling the chain of his necklace around her finger. A force of habit now. “I am. It was a really good idea. I…” There was a pause, hesitation coating her tongue as she decided to go for it anyways. “I was really scared I messed this up completely. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings or make you feel like… Like you weren’t enough, or I wasn’t happy. I know we talked about it before, and I don’t want to ruin a good day with those thoughts, but I really like you and I loved how it felt when we were out earlier. Holding your hand, when you kissed me…” She swallowed the lump that had formed, his soothing fingers continuing their path. He knew what she needed. “It felt right. I know back at home, some people are probably going to have a lot to say, a lot of mean things probably, saying I’m in this for money or something and that you’ll get over me or whatever but I just want you to know that I think we could work.”

Mustering up the courage to pull back and look at his face, she looked into his own eyes. They looked light, but focused. Intent as he met her gaze, encouraging her to continue to speak. She had no idea how he felt, how he felt a little choked up himself at her words and her resolve over the both of them. “I think we could. I’m sorry I seemed so wishy-washy before with us. With putting labels and dancing round things. I was scared to ask for anything more because I enjoyed us together and I didn’t want to be a silly little girl and assume you’d want something with me.” There was a pregnant pause, Y/N’s eyes falling from his for a moment. “I know theres a lot against us. I’m half your age, you’re Lia’s dad, it’s going to cause problems but I-I really think it’s worth exploring. I don’t want you to get hurt by the repercussions and like I said, I know it’ll cause some issues but-”

Y/N’s words were cut off with his mouth. A deep kiss, fingers angling her up towards him and keeping her chin between his fingers as he locked their lips together, letting her feel him. Heat flushed in her body, leaning into it immediately. He had stolen her breath, a tiny whimper leaving her throat as he attempted to pull back. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him back to her with a quiet mewl of ‘No’ before sealing their soft mouths back again, feeling his harsh exhale through his nose when she dragged her nails over his exposed chest and pulled back to peck his lips a few times. He eagerly responded, chasing her lips a few more times before giving a breathless chuckle, forehead resting against her own.

His heart thumped in his chest as he took a moment, opening his mouth to speak to her but failing. How could he possibly be able to tell her how much he actually appreciated her? He had to at least try.

“I don’t think words will be enough to accurately describe to you how much I feel for you already. I know. I know of the risks, the things people would say, the things that could possibly happen as a result. Trust me when I say that a relationship with you is all that has been clouding my mind for the last few weeks. I’ve thought through every scenario, as good and as bad as they could get, but none of them are as bad as the thought of losing out on being with you.”

His voice was slightly hoarse, the kiss and the mere passion he felt stealing some of the strength he usually had, but he powered on. “Y/N… I know I was cruel to you the other night. I was pathetically jealous, angry that it wasn’t me. That I couldn’t make it easier on you to be with me. I can’t control what people outside of myself do, and I should have conducted myself better but you…. You make me feel again. It’s unnerving and I felt raw and naked and hurt because I was letting you in and it felt like perhaps that wouldn’t be enough. That I’d be a phase. But it was cruel of me to underestimate you and think poorly of your intentions because of my own insecurities. As good as I try to be… I am still a man.” He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “A silly, jealous, needy man who wanted to rip the hands off of the guy in that photo for touching your shoulder. I wanted to storm down to the bar and toss you over my shoulder, take you home where you belong. When I realized I didn’t have a claim over you, it hurt. It made me feel bitter and irritated and then you showed up to my house, wearing a dress that you put on for another man… I went mad. But it wasn’t fair of me. I was feeling those same insecurities, and I didn’t let you speak. And for that, I’m sorry.” He returned to her chin, tilting it back up and pressing another lingering kiss to her lips before continuing.

“I want to be with you. I’ll take it all. I won’t let anyone be cruel to you, I will cherish you and this relationship, I’ll make you happy. I know we’ll have some growing pains and that it won’t necessarily be easy because of everyone else, but being with you? Being around you, feeling happy? It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Y/N hated herself for it, but she felt the burn behind her eyes. To hear someone talk so passionately, to put themselves in a position at home that could cause him personal issues because he liked her so much, he felt so intensely for her? It had shook her to the core. It felt like no one else had ever cared about her this much. She could feel it, feel his affection in the way he kissed her. “Me too.” She peeped. “It’s- It’s so easy for me to be myself around you. I know it was weird at first because of how we met but it fell into such a rhythm so quickly a-and I like myself around you, H. I do. I think that’s what we’re supposed to feel in relationships. Right?” She sniffled, cursing under her breath as a tear escaped. “Sorry. I just feel a lot right now and I’m really happy.” A watery laugh made him smile, thumbing the salty tear away from her cheek.

“Don’t apologize to me for feeling.” It was a gentle scold. As much as tears from her would break his heart, he wanted her reactions unfiltered. There was a greed he couldn’t control when it came to information about Y/N. “I want to hear and see everything you feel. You underestimate just how curious I’ve been about how this pretty little brain works.” His damp finger tapped the tip of her nose, making her giggle again. “It is how you’re supposed to feel, I think. At least, it’s how I feel with you, too. It’s the best, isn’t it?” His arms pulled her back to his chest, smiling to himself as he felt her rub her face into his neck and play with his hair, warm breaths brushing his collarbone as she nodded in response.

“It is.” Her words were soft against him, pressing a series of gentle kisses to the side of his throat and working her way up to his jaw. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. Every day, it’s something new.” Her teeth grazed the hinge of his jaw, biting down delicately before pulling back to give him a grin. “I never want to stop learning with you.”

“I’ll make sure you never have to, sweetheart.” Lips brushed hers, stealing her breath. “We don’t have to tell everyone we’re together when we’re home, but… we can use this trip, see how good it feels. Work on it when we get back.” meaning they’d have to tell Lia. Something neither of them would look forward to, but it was going to be pushed back on this trip. “Just want to take this time to get to know you, to see bits of you that you’ve hidden away. Cruel little thing.” He clicked his tongue, letting his fingers brush her sides to make her squeal. She was a tiny bit ticklish there.

“I’ll let you know anything you want- but first lesson? Do not tickle me unless you want me to accidentally knee you in the balls.” She huffed. “I happen to quite like them, so don’t do that.”

“Noted, darling. Noted.”

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spaceheelies · 15 days

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the idea of you is sure to do unspeakable damage to my brain but like i might watch it this weekend.

#don’t ask me why #i hate age gap romances but i like anne hathaway and nicholas galitzine is kinda growing on me. and fanfic turned mainstream media…#fascinating to me. hope harry styles is getting reparations from amazon prime

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sadiewilliams · 29 days

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sneak peek for my fanfic!

You go to the same bar. Every night. Trying to drink your worries away from all the weeks, hours, and months building up chaos and stress. Your whole life is a known by heart routine. Wake up. Brush teeth if the hangover was not so bad. Eat. Get dressed. Go to work until 9 PM. Go to the bar until 1 or 2 AM. Yeah. Such a wonderful life. Every day was the same people, and the same boring old things. That is why you were surprised when your normal waiter who would always take your order, take your phone, and call someone early in the morning to get you was replaced by another man.

#What do you think?#yay or nay?#Hs fanfic #Harry styles #age gap fanfic

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jarofstyles · 6 months

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Deception and Dive Bars- Verboten

Don't yell at me I promise we are getting into the good stuff <3 bff dadrry is back!

Patreon- the next 3 parts are up there and will be here in the coming weeks!

Warnings- angst, uncomfy talk, hint of slut shaming, jealousrry

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Y/N knew something was wrong.

She’d had a tummy ache the entire night. She knew she didn’t want to be out, she knew all she had wanted was to be at Harry’s House, snuggled in his bed where he would warn her not to get cookie crumbs in his sheets with a stern look over his glasses before he would steal a bite from her hand. That had been the original plan until she had been backed into a corner by none other than Lia herself.

She had meant well. Y/N knew she did. She had wanted to help out, make Y/N happy and step out of her comfort zone, but it had been miserable. Setting her up for a date with one of her girlfriend’s friends had been a disaster, but she had no excuse she could tell her to say no.

They’d done out as a double date and Y/N had checked her phone the whole time, but he hadn’t texted her back. That ache in her stomach had traveled to her head, a pounding headache sprouting at her temples from the loud bar music and the guy who had been trying desperately to impress her the entire night.

There was nothing wrong with Micheal. He was a really nice guy, he made decent money, he had good conversation skill and he wasn’t bad looking- but he wasn’t Harry. He didn’t have those green eyes and raspberry pink mouth and the 5 o’clock shadow, he didn’t wear the right rings or have the accented voice, he didn’t had that curl that hung over his forehead and the long fingers what reached out to adjust or touch her. It wasn’t him- it was the fact he wasn’t the man Y/N was craving.

When Lia had informed her of this date, she had tried to decline and say she didn’t want to but she had been guilted. Saying that she should give him a chance, that fuck buddies weren’t forever and that she wanted to see her happy. That nasty, molding seed of guilt she had been carrying in her stomach had grown to fill the entirety of her abdomen. What was she supposed to say? She did have a man she could see a future with, a man who made her happy and fulfilled her in every way possible, but he just so happened to be her father? She would kill her.

Y/N knew she and Harry weren’t officially dating, there was no label, and yet she felt like she was cheating. She felt horrid and yucky and she dodged Micheal’s touch the entire night, every brush of their knees making her mind stray to Harry. Their canceled documentary night. How she had a feeling he had bought her favorite popcorn and candy and set it up in the den with the plethora of fuzzy blankets. That had been her ideal night that she said she had to reschedule because she got called into work.

It wasn’t something she wanted to do. This date, lying to Harry, missing out on precious time with him, lying to Lia, but she felt stuck. She couldn’t tell Harry because she was scared. Terrified that he would wake up and see that maybe she was too young and too naive and new to life, that he was wasting his expertise on her. It struck fear into her every time she thought about it. What was she offering him besides good sex?? What did he see in her? The girl knew she was worth a lot, that she was funny and pretty and witty but was that enough to keep a man like Harry happy for a long time? She really didn’t know.

He didn’t answer her texts, though, and she was scared. Why hadn’t he answered? What was he doing? Y/N felt like she was on autopilot as she followed an oblivious Lia into the bathroom, blinking a few times as she felt hands on her shoulders.

“So? What do we think?” Lia’s expectant green eyes looked at her, obviously wanting some sort of status report. “He’s cute, right?” Bouncing on the tips of her feet, she was a tiny bit tipsy and it showed. She was overly excitable with alcohol.

“Yeah.” Y/N attempted a smile. “He’s alright. I’m just not… feeling it, I don’t know.” Her eyes cast down, not wanting to hurt her feelings but also knowing she had to be showing some sort of hesitation in this. “It’s not that there’s anything wrong with him. He’s really nice but I just don’t think he’s the one for me, Lia.”

“Come on, Y/N. He’s totally your type! He’s a bit older than us too.” She wiggled her brows, trying to entice her friend. “Listen, don’t discount him too much. It’s a first meeting. I know it can be hard, but trust me. He even has Dad’s seal of approval!”

Y/N’s head snapped up so quickly she was surprised she didn’t break her neck. “What? What do you mean?” Her heart started to climb into her throat as Lia continued on, as if it was a good thing. In Lia’s eyes, it was.

“Yeah! I had lunch with him today because he kept complaining about missing me, you know how he is. So we were eating and he asked what I was up to tonight and I told him we were going on a double date! He was kinda weird and asked about who you were going to see, so I told him he’d met Micheal before and showed a photo. He said he was a very nice guy and he’d be lucky to date you.” She hummed. “Isn’t it so cute? He’s so protective of both of us.”

Y/N was going to vomit. She felt the stinging in the back of her eyes. Harry knew, he knew and he was ignoring her and she was going to lose him altogether because she didn’t have a backbone. “D-Did he say anything else?” She croaked, blinking at her friend who twisted her lips and shook her head.

“No, he said that the food wasn’t agreeing with him and he needed to go home. He left me money for the bill and booked it out of there. I think he got food poisoning.” Her nose scrunched in disgust. “But enough about my dad. We need to go on back there and build this up. I promise Micheal’s a great guy. I wouldn’t set you up with someone I didn’t think would be good.”

Y/N could barely hear her. Her body felt cold and prickly, though the contradictory heat in her face was enough to let her know she wasn’t frozen solid. She had fucked up. Fucked up majorly. He had left lunch after he found out Y/N was going on a date. He had to think very badly of the situation and Y/N couldn’t blame him. She would too. Why couldn’t she have just told him? Why did she have to be such a baby and afraid of her own feelings? Harry was one of the most understanding people she’d ever met in her life. There was no way he would be angry at her if she had just explained the situation before- but now? Now he had every right to tell her to fuck off. She wanted to fix this- needed to fix this.

“Lia, I’m feeling a little sick too. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I need to go home, I keep feeling like I’m going to vomit.” She wasn’t lying. The rolling in her stomach from despair and nerves was real. “I’m just going to drive home. I didn’t drink. Tell him I said thanks and what's going on.”

“Are you sure? I can drive you-” Lia babbled, looking sad for her friend without realizing she was indeed tipsy herself. She just didn’t want to leave Y/N sick and by herself. “I’ve got tums in my purse-” Digging through it, she tried to find the mini bottle she kept around.

“Thank you, babe, but you’re tipsy and you need those more than me. I’ll stop by the pharmacy on my way home. Just go have fun.” She adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “I’ll text you later.”

She couldn’t stop the bubbled sob as she got behind the wheel of her car, slamming her hand against the steering wheel. Damn it. Damn it! She had been so hesitant, her gut told her not to do it and now she had potentially messed up the best thing she had going for her. This feeling was tearing her up, knowing that Harry probably thought this was something she willingly agreed to. Sitting home, disappointed and sad. He was a grown man, yes, but he had such tender emotions that Y/N knew were easy to hurt. She’d seen beyond the glass.

Tearing into gear, she made her way to his house, hopeful he would listen.

—-

Perhaps it wasn’t the best move to use the key he had given her to get into the house when he had been actively avoiding her all day, but she was terrified that he wouldn’t let her in. That he would shut the door on her face and not give her a chance to explain.

Toeing her shoes off, she sniffled as she placed her bag down and padded into the house. It was mostly silent, the lights dim as she walked into the hall. “H-Harry?” Her weak voice called out, hands shaking slightly as she saw the brightest light being the kitchen. The water was running. She could hear it as she got closer, the clink of glasses and the steady stream coming from the faucet.

His back was stiff, tenseness visible on his broad shoulders as he continued to wash the dishes in the sink. He’d heard her, but didn’t reply. Stepping further into the room, she sniffed again before saying his name, making him pause his movements for a second. If she’d blinked, it would have been missed.

“Thought you were working.” His voice was calm, but echoed with hollowness. He didn’t turn to look at her, but he didn’t yell. Somehow, this felt worse.

“I-I know Lia told you.” The whisper was weak, her eyes going to her feet. She stood behind the counter, keeping quiet as she waited for him to reply. It felt like she was going to be scolded and she hated it. She hated that Harry was upset and she had been the cause.

“Oh, that?” A humorless laugh left his lips as he clenched his marbled jaw, looking down at the clean dish he continued to wash. “Yeah, that definitely was a shock. Wasn’t sure which lie you were going t’go with.” The bitterness tasted foul even on his own tongue, but he couldn’t help it. The betrayal bled from his heart, unsure where he had missed the signs.

“H-Harry.” She croaked. “I didn’t want to lie to you. I promise. I just-” She was cut off as the water shut off, hands dried by the dishtowel next to him. He turned around to face her, and she suddenly wished he had continued in the sink. The look on his face would haunt her, she was sure of it.

His jaw was tight, lips thin and eyes puffy. Paler than usual, he looked… he looked awful. She didn’t want to assume it was because of her, but the reaction was making it clear that she was to blame.

“You what, Y/N?” He asked tightly. Her heart sank as she was referred to by name. No baby, no pet, no sweetheart, no love, just her name. “What could you possibly say that’s an appropriate excuse for lying?” His eyes bore into her, irritation coating his words as he spoke next. “Can you look me in the eye when you’re trying to lie to me again?”

It stung. It hurt in her stomach, she felt almost ill when she met his eyes and saw the coldness. The guard was back up. No more softness, no more warmth that blossomed in his features when she propped herself up in front of him. Like she was a stranger. “No! No, I’m not trying to lie.” She squeaked, irritated with herself for feeling so defenseless. “I just didn’t want you to think that I didn’t want to come over. That I wanted to go out over spending time with you-”

“Well, you didn’t seem that upset earlier. Saw those photos Lia posted. Looked really cozy with that guy.” The words felt caustic, tearing up her stomach as his gaze matched the tone. “Did you have fun? Is he nice?” Sarcasm laced his tone as he leaned against the counter, arms crossing his chest as he watched her face wince.

“N-No. I didn’t have fun. I was trying to be polite, but I kept thinking about you!” Her exclamation was hoarse, feeling intimidated by the new demeanor. Harry had never been this way with her in the past, and it was just as scary as she had imagined. Usually being wrapped in the soft cocoon of his affection, being ripped out of the cottony confines had been a shock to her system.

“That’s interesting.” He retorted. “You were thinking about me while on a date with another man? Letting him pose with his arm around you?” His eyes were dark, nose flaring as she tried to explain it away. “Y/N, I’m a grown man. I don’t have time for games. I don’t want to play whatever little girl shit this is. I thought we had a connection, but I suppose I fell into it a bit too deep to understand that you like to see what’s out there.” He muttered. “ Should have let it be just what you wanted. A good time and a good fuck. My mistake. At least I got one thing out of it.” The words were too much, and he regretted them as soon as he said them, but his gaze remained steely. His pride was wounded, and one of his bad traits was hitting where it hurts.

Y/N visibly recoiled, feeling like she had been smacked with those words. She knew he was hurt- but is that how he thought of her?

“I never said this was a game.” She said slowly. “I thought we had a connection too, but apparently you think I’m a little girl and that I’m just a good time. An easy fuck.” She spit, eyes glazing with tears all over again. “I’m sorry your feelings were hurt. If you’d given me even a second to explain without interrupting me and letting your insecurities eat you alive, you’d know I was basically forced to go out by your daughter and she didn’t take no for an answer.” Her chest was heaving as she tried not to let the sob that wanted to escape from coming out. The tears were bad enough.

If possible, Harry stiffened further as he cocked his head. “What do you mean forced you?”

“Oh, for fucks sake. Don’t pretend to care now.” She hissed. “If you’d given a fuck about anything other than your pride, you’d be that grown man you claim to be before making assumptions. It was wrong of me to go out, I should have just told you the situation, but I was scared.” She backed away from the counter, making some more space between them. “But it’s obvious now what this was to you. Having so little faith in me, I can see where this was headed.” She turned to leave but felt him follow her behind him.

“Now wait a fucking second. Stop.” He called to her, hot on her heels. “No. You don’t get to do that. Tell me what you meant.”

“Don’t.” Y/N recoiled when he tried to touch her, making his chest ache. She’d always leaned into him, never away. “Your daughter was saying I’d done enough fucking around and I deserved a man to treat me right. To take me out. And since I don’t tell her about what we do, she think’s I’ve just had a fuck buddy. Which…” She paused, sneering slightly. “Maybe that’s all this fucking was. She told me that I owed her a solid and Micheal had been interested in me for a bit, that I should give it a shot. She said I didn’t have a choice. You know your daughter. She’s relentless and I didn’t have an excuse as to why I couldn’t go.”

Harry knew she was right. Lia was a force to be reckoned with. She wasn’t one who took no for an answer and if Y/N didn’t have a real excuse, she wasn’t going to let it go. This was something he hadn’t considered. It still didn’t make sense though. Why hadn’t she just told him? Why had she lied?

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He asked, throwing his arms up in the air. “I’d have thought by now you’d know you could tell me fucking anything. I thought… We both knew it was beyond sex, Y/N. You knew it would hurt me and that’s why you didn’t tell me, but why couldn’t you have at least talked to me about it? That’s what adults do.” The words were stressed as he took her in. The girl was more than upset and he knew it- but so was he.

“Do you think I wanted to? Risking telling you, risking all of this because your daughter, my best friend, was suspicious as to why I wasn’t dating, why I wouldn’t tell her who I was fucking around with and spending my time with? Don’t you see that I’m terrified you’d realize, like you already have, that I’m young and different and not like the girls you’ve dated? I’m inexperienced in a lot of shit, I can be immature, that you could do miles better than me?” She cried, bottom lip trembling as she watched his posture soften slightly. “I didn’t want to chance it. But I ruined it anyways. You think I’m a little girl who’s an easy fuck. Young pussy to break up the mature ladies you should be dating so they can keep up with you.” The words were hissed as she went to grab her bag, but Harry moved forward, bracing an arm on the wood to keep the door closed.

“No. You’re not running away. We’re talking about this.” His voice was softer now, trying to catch her eyes as he felt his heart thump in his throat. “I didn’t mean that. I was angry and I-I shouldn’t have said that. I wanted to hurt you because you hurt me, but I don’t think that you’re an easy young girl, you aren’t just a fuck to me. I wouldn’t be this upset if you were.” His hands moved to place her bag back down, trying to catch her eye.

“Hey… Look at me, Y/N.”

His body pulsed with hurt when she did. Fear, exhaustion, insecurity. He could see it all as another fresh round of tears pooled from her ducts, trailing down her cheeks. “Why?” She whispered. “Why should I stay? All I’d wanted to do is say I was sorry and hoped you’d listen to me but I will not stand here and let another man in my life degrade me. I’m good for more than my body. Maybe it started that way, but I am more than a sexual object you get to be possessive of.”

Her shaky voice made him swallow thickly, cursing to himself as he realized he had definitely fucked up with letting his anger get the best of him. At the same time, he was proud of her for setting that boundary, for saying that to him. He deserved it. “I know. I know you are. That’s why it hurt my feelings so much, darling. Can’t you see that?” He stressed. “ M’not possessive because you’re a toy of mine and I don’t want someone else to touch. M’angry because I’m insecure and nervous. I thought I’d taken it more seriously and that you didn’t care about me that way. That I’d read it all wrong.” His nails scored his palms as he tried to keep from reaching from her. When she didn’t make a move to leave again, he continued.

“I was worried about the same things. That you’d get tired of seeing an older man. M’not exactly one for going to a club or drinking, my knees aren’t what they used to be, I like to golf, read, m’a homebody. I was…” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Seeing those photos and knowing that you were going on a date with someone that most would deem more age appropriate, it made all those things come right back to me.”

Y/N looked up finally, her brows narrowed as she met his eye. As much as it killed him to see them red and teary, there was some relief knowing she could at least look at him.

“Harry- I like those things about you.” She whispered. “I like that you're older, I love it actually. Do you know how secure I felt around you? How much I loved that you weren’t trying to drag me out to a bar I didn’t want to go to? I loved our nights here, cooking and swimming and watching things. I had my share of exploring that shit in uni and I didn’t really like it all that much. I don’t care that you like golf, even though I’d be bored- I’d come with you and sit in the cart. I like you because you made me feel like I could be myself around you.” Her arms curled in on themselves, not liking how exposed she felt under her gaze.

Harry’s shoulders fell, eyes following suit as he looked at the floor. A stressed hand ran over his face as he tried to gather himself from the bouts of emotion that ripped through him. He had been angry, and that was justified, but the things he had said were not. He had hurt her, and he hoped that he hadn’t damaged them too badly.

“I’m sorry.” The words were quiet, looking back at her again. He hated how she looked so small. So sad. Even in her pretty dress, she looked so uncomfortable and to know he was the cause of it made him want to sink to his knees and beg for forgiveness. It was not at all how he imagined this interaction going.

“You should be.” Y/N peeped. The things he said had hit her right in the stomach, leaving a residual ache in her body. “I’m sorry for going out with that guy and lying to you. But you- you get why I did, right?” The hesitance was evident, not wanting to start a fight all over again but longing for his understanding.

“I do.” He took a hesitant step forward sighing in relief internally when she uncrossed her arms. “I do. I’m sorry I was so cruel to you.” His hand reached out, Y/N allowing him to wipe away her tears, the familiar palms making her lip tremble a bit harder. “Hey, Darling… No. No more tears. It’s breaking my heart.” His tone was miles different that before, the gentleness returning to it that she had missed so much. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be alright. M’sorry. We both made a mess, didn’t we?”

The soothing hands moved as she nodded her head, blinking up at him with her glossy eyes. “I didn’t want to go on a date with anyone except you.” The confession was laced with an uneven inhale, shaky as she moved forward. “I don’t like him. I never did. I wanted our movie night a-and I hope that this isn’t ruined because I really like you. I like us.”

The words were a peep, a soft little confession that had his chest inflating and crackling at the same time. She was so nervous about this, and instead of listening to what she had to say, he had been impulsive. But she confessed to really liking him, liking them together. That was more than he had expected from tonight.

“Yeah? D’you?” His lips twitched up, wiping the last of her tears away before placing a hand on her back, tugging her into his embrace.

“Yeah.” Y/N melted right into it, into his chest as her face nuzzled against the warmth he provided. Just as the world intended, he thinks.

“Good. This mean you’ll be mine properly? No more dancing around what we are… no more dates, you can say you’re seein’ someone properly?” Momentarily he shifted, nudging her chin up to look at him. God, he loved those eyes. “Because I’m serious about this. If you let me, we can be really good together.”

Y/N nodded, clutching his shirt in her palms with a smile that faded slightly as something else came to her mind. “But-But what are we going to do about Lia?”

The infamous question. What were they going to do about his daughter?

“Why don’t we figure out our relationship first, and then worry about her. We obviously have some things to iron out.” His fingers pinched her chin, offering up a soft smile to her. “It’s something that we will need to think about but.. I think we were doing a good job of keeping it to ourselves. I don’t intend to hide you, but I think we need to work out our things before I get to show you off.” He knew people would have a lot to say and they both needed to be secure in their relationship before other people were brought into the picture. They needed time to grow together. Unfiltered time that they could spend learning each other without a worry.

“I agree, actually.” Y/N leaned back against him. “This is why you’re the daddy. You have good ideas.. Sometimes.” She pressed a kiss to his chest. Breaking through that tension as she was so good at, it did something to his brain that scratched an itch. Her natural steps fit so well with his instincts, he knew it had to mean something. Harry relaxed. It wasn’t the end of them, like he thought. This was just the beginning.

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justascrollingghost · 1 year

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Just in case you’re wondering why it’s given everyone the ick it’s not to do with the age gap but to do with life experience. At 30 years old you have so much more life experience than somebody who is fresh out of uni which creates a power imbalance with pretty much everything. There is absolutely no reason why somebody in their 30’s would look at a young girl in her early twenties and think that’s a good idea.

#and this is the problem #management teams forget that Louis’ fanbase isn’t screaming teens #it’s adults #it’s the people that grew up with 1D #we’re not kids #we don’t find these weird age gap and power imbalance relationships cute #we find them grim #they did it with Harry and now they’ve done it with Louis #and they wonder why it backfires #harry styles #louis tomlinson

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dirtyheathencommie · 1 year

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DEAR EDUCATIONALLY NEGLECTED HOMESCHOOLERS

I’ve gathered some resources and tips and tricks on self-educating after educational neglect. This is only what I did and what I know helped me. I’m about to graduate college with honors after having no education past the age of 9. I wouldn’t be here without the following. Everything is free, and at/well above the standard for education in the US.

The holy grail: Khan Academy. Nearly every course you could take is available here, in order and by grade level. Their open-source free courses rival some of the college classes I’ve taken. This is your most solid resource.

For inattentive types: Crash Course offers a variety of courses that are snappy, entertaining, and extremely rewarding. They work for my ADHD brain. They also have college prep advice, which is essential if you’re looking to go to higher education with no classroom experience.

To catch up on your reading: There are certain books that you may have read had you gone to school that you’ve missed out on. This list is the most well-rounded and can fill you in on both children’s books and classic novels that are essential or at least extremely helpful to be familiar with. You can find a majority of these easily at a local library (and some for free in PDF form online low key). There are a few higher level classics in here that I’d highly recommend. If it doesn’t work for you, I’d always recommend asking your local librarian.

*BE AWARE* The book list I recommend suggests you read Harry Potter books, and given their transphobic author you may or may not want to read them. If you choose to, I’d highly recommend buying the books secondhand or borrowing from a library to avoid financially supporting a living author with dangerous and damaging views.

TEST, TEST, TEST: Again, Khan Academy is your go-to for this. I don’t personally like standardized testing, but going through SAT and ACT courses was the best way I found to really reveal my gaps so that I could supplement.

Finally: As much as you can, enjoy the process. Education can be thrilling and teach you so much about yourself, and help shape your view of the world. It can get frustrating, but I’d like to encourage you that everyone can learn. No pace is the perfect pace, and your learning style is the right learning style for you. In teaching yourself, be patient, be kind, and indulge in the subjects you really enjoy without neglecting others. You are your teacher. Give yourself what others chose not to.

#if you have any questions please don’t hesitate to message me anything #I’ll help however I can #homeschool #ex fundamentalist #ex homeschool #ex homeschooled #educational neglect #education #self education #ex fundie #send me asks #homeschool recovery #resources #educate yourself #ex christian #exvangelical #religious trauma #tw religion #deconstructing christianity

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wonryllis · 3 months

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daddy issues, my little girl (m) | park jongseong.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹,

preview. you had always had daddy issues, for as long as you could remember. so when jay came along with his caring nature, how could you possibly keep your feelings at bay? not to forget, your roses of love have wilted long before you even knew what love meant but jay, he’s here at your doorstep with a watering can. will you be able to refuse?

or where, new neighbor dr jay park is asked to babysit you over the week. ironically the only man you have ever had a crush on. you are so determined to put aside the feelings but jay makes things so much harder. he is way too sweet and caring and you are way too pessimistic and insecure. how is it going to work with you gravitating towards him in inadvertence and jay welcoming your presence with candor radiance? especially with all of your buried issues coming to life more than ever. false hopes and reserved secrets, reluctant truths and feelings that linger deep. he is right there, two doors away to reach. so why is it that love still feels so far?

meet the cast. daddy park jongseong(jay) with his doll fem!reader

genre. neighbour to lovers, age gap (like 7 years), romance, SMUT MDNI!!, comfort angst, fluff, happy ending, doctor(might change that)!jay with his precious girl. jay literally always at his girl's beck and call, he cares about you a lottttt trope. the "i know you can do it, but let me do it for you" trope. kinda ddlg concept idk? he's like your pillar, comfort person and just everything you have ever needed. practically your dream man come to life. subject to additions later on.

word count. 18-19k so far, est around 35k revamp + second installment.

warnings. DARK THEMES: hints of: daddy issues, attachment anxiety, inferiority complex, abandonment issues, depression, childhood emotional neglect, philophobia, insomnia, social anxiety, hints at emotional/psychological abuse, gaslighting, hints at being suicidal, people pleaser syndrome, mommy issues, thantophobia, atelophobia, atychiphobia, pistanthrophobia, avoidant personality disorder, body dysmorphia. more could be added on release and nsfw warnings will be mentioned in full fic.

theme song. daddy issues by the neighborhood and future by red velvet. on the side you can listen to: love letter by bolbbalgan4, adore you by harry styles, pacify her by melanie martinez, cool kids by echosmith, your existence by wonstein, teenage dreams by katy perry ..

RELEASING. TBD, progress ! 57%

"i’m home!” slipping off your converse, you put the pair inside the shoe cabinet near the entrance and close the wooden door in a sigh before trudging in. the lights in the living room are dimmed, something your parents would never do. it catches you a tad bit off guard but nevertheless you try not to think too much. considering the silence surrounding you they most definitely are out for work and as usual forgot to turn off the lights. with cautious steps you walk futher inside, with all intention to sneak in a pack of chips from the kitchen like a thief even though at this point you’ve practically come to the conclusion you’re home alone, but one can never be too careful.

a cat like shriek leaves you when your eyes land on the back of a figure sitting on the couch, your phone almost slipping through the grasp of your fingers as your eyes widen in shock. startled, your heart more or less stopping in a screeching brake for a split second.

the man visibly flinches at the sound of your voice,“who are you?!-” standing up and turning around to face you,“jay?”

“god y/n, you’re gonna make me deaf,” he complains, face contorting into a tender, teasing expression; a small smile gracing his lips as he walks around the couch and leans against the top of the backrest. you watch as he looks at you, so softly that it makes you wonder, has anyone ever in your entire life looked at you like that? a look radiating such gentleness. maybe not, not until now that is.

“you got home early today, i thought you’d be out for two more hours?” his brows raise in a questioning manner as his gaze shifts to go over the time showing on your living room clock.

“uh, well i was working on a project the last few days but i finished it yesterday so,” you speak unsure if you should even be telling him this instead of asking what he’s doing in here.

“oh okay, that’s good,” taking off his overcoat he walks into the kitchen, folding up his dress shirt’s sleeves on the way,“what do you want for lunch then? do you want to eat takeout? or should i cook you something? you must be hungry,” he takes out a bottle of cold water from the fridge and pours in a glass for you, sliding the cup on the countertop towards you as you approach the space in hesitant and confused steps.

his questions dumbfound you, leaving your brain at a loss, still dazed from his presence before you,“what? why are you asking me that? and what are you doing in my house?” you ask, looking completely clueless when jay turns to look at you expecting it to be some kind of a sarcastic remark. but the lost look in your eyes has him surrendering even if it does turn out to be some joke.

“taking care of you,” jay smiles, straightening his posture in an upright position and moving closer to the counter across which you stand,“technically, babysitting,”

“babysitting? me? but,” it baffles you, is this some prank or are you supposed to know something you don’t? your mind’s mechanical gears slow down, friction arising in between them. you don’t remember anything regarding or relating to the term babysitting. there’s no way he’s serious.. right?

“doll, didn’t your parents tell you they’re gonna be out on a business trip for a week? they asked me to look after you while they’re gone,” what.

yes these past few days when you couldn’t catch a hidden, one-sided glimpse of him in the elevator you did feel weird. and you definitely did subconsciously wish to run across him again, even though you were on a mission to avoid him, but this; this is not what you would’ve liked, this is not what you wanted. this is far from what you can handle, what your messed up self can accept.

“no?” the look on your face has jay almost spilling a laugh, the way your features contort to a whiny crying expression. how cute. he thinks.

“that’s okay, now you know,” trying to imitate you, he scrushes up his nose in a slight pout, reaching out to pat your head twice. and there goes your heart. you never thought you’d like head pats this much, you only remember getting them twice from your father but it felt different. it used to annoy you because he would mess up your hair but the way jay caressed your head it felt you had accomplished something, so gentle and careful yet still close to a ruffle.

taglist ( open. ) @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @lheebra @boyfhee @defnotfertilizedtoesw @brownsugarbaybee @skylaly @sparklovespink @luvyouchuu @ming-h0e @cha0thicpisces @butterflywonie @kgneptun @haechansbbg @m3chigo @wonsbaer @woncine @eneiyri @siyen @wonyoungsvirus @heesquared @enhafim22 @velvtcherie @ineedsomezzz @simjyunnie @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @wonkifangirl @sweetwonieee @luvnicho @fakeuwus @sunpov @notevenheretbh1 @kaykay11sworld @saurxcream @shawnyle @monstaxdirtywonk @wannieepisod @woozixo @sophi-ee @rikiwaify-blog @fluerz @iselltulips @belowbun @yunjinsbbg @enhasnuggles @enhaswirlds @enhastolemyheart @jooniesbears-blog

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gurugirl · 10 months

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hiiii i have a little question do you have a story where is like similar to lolita, teachers pet or just like daddy issues in general you know where he is older and she is younger??? and if you have recommendations it would also be great ❣️❣️❣️

Yes I do! It's one of my faves! Love a good age gap trope! First of all I LOVE Daddy Issues by @fkinavocado . That was one of the first fics I found when I first started getting into tumblr. It's a favorite for sure.

From my own stories: Don't Stand So Close - Harry is Anna's best friend's dad - big age gap + daddy kink (OC not Y/N) Professor Harry Masterlist - Age gap, though it's not front and center of the au Stedad Harry Masterlist - There is about a 7 year age gap The Arrangement - sugar daddy, CEO Harry x college student yn bfd!harry - best friend's dad Harry x reader (not daddy kink but sir + age gap, forbidden relationship)

Other fics I love w/age gap: Curvy Secret by @swiftmendeshoran Rich & Complicated Freak by @lukesaprince Prosecco by @moonchildstyles That's all I have for now. Please y'all send me your faves for this trope! I'd like to read more (and I'm sure I've read more I just can't think of any others off the top of my head).

xoxo

#ask #age gap harry #older!harry #harry styles

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harstyle · 3 months

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the styles’ nanny

Summary: Y/N is a twenty-three year old uni student and Harry is a thirty-six year old single dad. Y/N is a part-time nanny and Harry is her employer. Y/N thinks Harry is hot, and Harry… well, he’s a bit confused.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!yn + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 7.3k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking and lashing out during an argument, no happy ending yet

A/N: I don’t know why I keep writing characters that start out insecure but I swear it’ll get better later!! Let me know if you want to read more, I’m thinking maybe three parts? Also, the fact that y/n is plus-size doesn’t really become a big deal in the story, but that was how I originally had her in mind so I’m leaving it that way. Hope you enjoy!

Y/N was twenty three. She was twenty three, and she used to love being twenty three. She used to love going out to party, the feeling of alcohol burning down her throat, the rush of palpable excitement when having sex with people she’d never met before. She used to love that. But she didn’t anymore.

And the reason for that? One Harry Styles.

It was ridiculous, of course; Harry had other companions he could turn to before ever settling on her— oh and not to mention, he was her boss. Yet, it felt daring, like that time she’d fallen in love with her biology teacher or looked differently at her camp instructor in high school. Authority figures did something to her brain, and Harry was no different.

But of course there was a lot at stake and she would never actually approach the idea; it was a fantasy at most. And she thought… as long as she didn’t act on her brain’s poisoning, it would be fine.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“Oh,” she was snapped back to her current state following the short distraction, the butter knife in her hand now seeming more dangerous than when she’d held it seconds before. “Sorry, Harry, what was that?”

She swore she could see an amused smile tugging at his lips for a brief second. She’d always wondered what he thought of her.

“Are you free next Thursday? I have this meeting until late and I doubt I’ll be home for dinner—I was thinking you could maybe put Jamie to bed? You can stay the night if it’s too late to catch a train, or just take the other car?”

Y/N’s work day at the Styles’ house ended at five pm most days in time for Harry to get home, but she did adore Jamie, so staying longer wasn’t remotely an issue.

“That’s okay, I can just stay the night like I did last time, if that’s alright?”

Harry had insisted when she’d begun working for him that she have a room in the house where she could take naps to rest or stay the night all together when it got too tiring to catch the train home, and the notion of it had pulled at her heartstrings. He was very considerate and that was rare in bosses.

Harry shook his head, waving her off with ease, “course it’s okay.”

“Great. I should get home, I have an important test coming up tomorrow. Am I good to go?”

He glanced at the clock, noticing how late it had gotten (he’d offered to cook dinner and Y/N had never been one to reject hot men’s company) and cursed quietly to himself. “I’ll drive you.”

“Oh no Harry, really, it’s okay!”

“It’s almost eight and I feel uneasy whenever I send you away in the dark. Sides, I’m sure Jamie will love a late road trip to your flat,” he reassured with a smile, standing up as if to restrict her getting a choice and starting to load the plates into the dish washer. “Grab your coat and I’ll wait by the door. I’ll get Jamie.”

Y/N did love the way he asserted his wishes to her, kind but dominant in his decisions. He didn’t let her deter him and she, for one, didn’t mind it at all.

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

—

“Can I please just get one scoop? Please?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, we just don’t have any ice cream! I would let you have it if we did, but we don’t. Is there any other snack you’re interested in?”

Jamie was being fussy today and Y/N couldn’t figure out why. He’d been happy when she’d picked him up from school, raving on about his art teacher’s praise on a drawing he’d done with the widest grin resting lazily on his small lips. It had been at around three that he’d started whining at her, not wanting to eat even though he’d requested the grilled cheese and flicking through about twenty channels until he’d finally settled on not watching anything at all. Y/N had figured he was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep either, so she was left thoroughly baffled trying to find ways to tame his mood.

But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop whining and crying, wouldn’t stop flailing his tiny arms and legs, wouldn’t stop pouting at her. Jamie had the best behaviour Y/N had ever seen on a boy, really, so this behavior worried her. “I just want ice cream!”

“Jamie, we don’t have any ice cream. How about I get you ice cream tomorrow, hm? And today we’ll have something else? Come on, remember how we learned about compromise?”

Y/N was trying, pulling Jamie into her lap to comfort him even though he didn’t care for any of it. His face was red and angry and nothing she said registered in his brain. He cried into her shoulder instead, gripping at her sides in terror. “You’re being mean to me.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice, I’m trying to help you bud.”

“Please, I just want ice cream.”

It was kind of cute how even in his state of devastation, he still managed to be polite to her.

“And I hear you, Jamie, but we don’t have any right now. Will you settle for Oreos? Or chocolate?”

He merely shook his head.

Y/N breathed a grateful sigh when she heard the front door being unlocked, still bouncing Jamie up and down in her lap in hopes that he’d settle down just a bit. She was sure Harry’d heard the crying from the front door because his steps were fast and his expression of concern clear.

“What’s wrong, bub?”

Jamie reacted with a devastating whine, calling for his dad and reaching his arms out begging to be carried. Harry shot Y/N a look of mixed confusion and apology, leveling the boy out from inside of her lap. He mouthed the question she knew he’d been thinking and felt bad when all she could offer in return was a shrug because she knew it wasn’t the ice cream anymore

Harry sung in whispers into his ear in the hopes of calming him, bouncing him around on the spot. He pressed kisses to his forehead, drawing circles on his back. It worked better than when Y/N had done it, Jamie’s sobs having soothed into few hiccups and sniffles.

Y/N couldn’t help but admire how naturally skilled Harry was at being a father. She knew a little bit of the history— his fiancée at the time leaving him for another man months after having given birth to Jamie and having to raise him by himself. He was a busy man and Y/N could often tell that he felt bad about being unable to do things like pick up his son from preschool or spend all day playing in the den, but he was still a better father than hers had ever been. He was a great father.

Not long after his crying had died down, Jamie fell asleep in Harry’s arms. Y/N finally breathed a sigh, relieved to catch a break. She loved taking care of Jamie, but jesus had today been hard. Harry carried him up to his bedroom, careful as to not bother him and advised Y/N to wait for him to come back.

Whilst Harry was putting Jamie to bed, she decided to clean up a bit. She went through the array of toys Jamie had taken out and discarded after a short minute of playing with them, and placed them back in the drawers. A smile tugged at her lips when she saw the dino plush toy she’d gifted him when she’d first started working for this family months ago— he still played with it all of the time. In fact, Harry had once sent her a photo of it sitting next to him in the car when they’d gone on vacation in the summer. She recalled tearing up because of it.

“Hi, sorry for taking so long.”

She swore she almost jumped in reaction to his thick voice, gripping the plush tightly against her chest in shock. Harry allowed himself a chuckle, raising his arms just enough to surrender. “Sorry, should’ve knocked.”

Y/N’s only response was a forced chuckle. It still felt weird to be in a room with him by herself, without the presence of a cute five year old to tend to. It was moments like these she felt guilty about fancying him. Most of the time Harry was merely a ghost around the house and whenever he settled back in, she would leave. She rarely ever had time to utter more than a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ and rush off home. It wasn’t like he was there, so her thoughts about him didn’t seem too off putting— now, with the company of awkward silence engulfing them, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted by herself.

“Think he’s getting sick,” he then added.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ve seen him like that before so it was just a bit worrisome.”

“Yeah, he only really gets like that when he’s sick, so I think it’s safe to say… you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine, just a bit worried, as I said.”

He smiled like he found that amusing, “he’ll be okay. Are you hungry? I was going to make pasta for dinner.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

Last time she’d had dinner here, Jamie had sat next to her. It hadn’t been just her and him.

“Yeah. Why don’t you put the dino down and we’ll go make it together?”

In an instant, her cheeks heated up. She hadn’t even noticed she was still clutching to it for support and figured he must’ve thought she looked so stupid welcoming the comfort of a plush toy. Another awkward chuckle escaped her as she threw it gently into its container, bucking down to lock it away as well as her memory of these last two minutes, hopefully.

Harry was a good cook, but that wasn’t really surprising at all— in fact, she couldn’t imagine there were many things he wouldn’t excel at. Y/N, on the other hand, she was terrible. She’d burned so many things in her apartments kitchen that she couldn’t keep count even if she tried. So naturally, he took the lead in every task she did, from cutting onions to seasoning the salmon.

“Wait, no, y’can’t— here,” she couldn’t help but giggle as he took the knife from her hands, cutting into the flesh himself. He huffed, but she knew it was teasing. “You’ve gotta learn how to cook.”

“I know how to cook basic things, just not some five star gourmet meal. I think you’d be surprised what I can do with some seasoning, eggs and tomatoes.”

“I have no choice but to take your word for it, do I?”

“Guess not. Can I do something else? I feel so useless.”

He clicked his tongue, not even sparing a glance her way. “Go sit on the counter and look pretty.”

And at first, Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. Did she just… literally sit on the counter? Probably not. It was… a joke, right? How did he expect she would react to such a bizarre request? For a second the guilt she’d been feeling about potentially being unprofessional subsided in a flush.

Then he finally let his eyes settle on her and she just about fainted at what he had to say, “what? Do you need help getting up?”

She was 99% sure at this point that he just got off on pestering her, what with the dino, and now this? Prior to these last two weeks he’d never even spoken more than five words to her, and now he was inviting her to dinner. He probably found the confusion written all over her face amusing.

She could probably indulge a little then, right?

“Yeah, I do.”

He didn’t just laugh, though, like she’d expected him to— no, he ran his hands under hot water, wiped his hands on his (very) expensive trousers and walked toward her. He motioned to the counter as if asking her to get closer and—

“Wait, no, I can do it.”

He immediately stepped back, hands dropping from her waist and smirk molding his mouth.

“You can now?”

“Yes.”

He held eye contact for a few more beats before moving away with a solid nod.

What the fuck was that?

Y/N had expected him to dismiss her, uttering something along the lines of ‘I was only joking’, but that? Never would she have thought that that would be the response.

It was funny, too, because he never could’ve carried her up without at least a bit of struggle. She knew what he was used to— thin women, supermodels even, and she was neither.

So despite the confusion, she got up on the counter like he’d asked. On her own.

And when he’d started asking her about normal things like family and uni, Y/N slowly eased out of her awkward stance. She told him about her mother, her brother, and left her deceased father out of it. He smiled, nodding along to her words whenever the situation allowed it and kept his eye on the food.

A blink was all it took for him to announce dinner and the two of them sat at the table together, peacefully quiet.

It was around six thirty when the patter of tiny feet sounded through the house, from the stairs to the kitchen. Both of the adults waited patiently, eyebrows raised in surprise that the little gremlin had decided to wake up after only having slept for two hours.

“Daddy?”

Y/N almost melted at his sweet, buttery voice.

Harry hummed, “is that you, bub?”

He finally poked his head into the room, carrying a plush toy in one hand and rubbing his sleepy eyes with the other. He studied the room before settling his green irises (clone of his dad’s) on Y/N.

“Y/N, you’re still here.”

She smiled, a pity smile, and answered in a sweet tone, “I am, bud. Is that okay?”

He merely nodded, stalking closer. Harry pulled him up into his lap, kissing his forehead before letting him rest against his front.

“I wanted to apologize for being mean before.”

Her stomach did another flip.

Was this a dream, or did a five year old just apologize to her on his own incentive? She swore these Styles boys surprised her every day!

Her eyes flickered to Harry and she watched as a proud smile stretched his mouth. He met her gaze, the grin undeniably wide, and shrugged as if to say didn’t tell him to.

“That’s okay, Jamie, I understand you were frustrated. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded again, although it was weak and subtle, “my throats itchy.”

Harry’s smile faded with his confession and he pressed the back of his palm to his son’s forehead, “why’d you get out of bed, then, silly? You need to rest if you’re sick.”

“Missed you, daddy.”

She could see that same guilt she’d seen so many times before manipulate Harry’s features again, and her heart broke a little bit for him. She couldn’t keep track of the amount of times she’d wanted to just break and say you’re a wonderful father to him, but stopped herself in fear of overstepping.

Knowing he wasn’t going to say anything soon enough, too lost in his own thoughts, she went on for him. “Tomorrow is Saturday, Jamie, how about you go rest so you can have a full day with your dad tomorrow? S’not nice spending weekends sick in bed, as you know.”

In a manner that was so much more than cute, Jamie’s fingers trapped his chin to appear deep in thought, and then he nodded. “That makes sense.”

Y/N almost laughed, “doesn’t it?”

“Will you be here too, Y/N?”

Jamie knew very well that Y/N wasn’t here on Saturdays, so she guessed he was only implying that she should be. An invitation of sorts.

But she really couldn’t handle being around Harry on the weekends as well as on weekdays, so she shook her head gently, “no, but I’ll be back on Monday, is that okay with you?”

To show his dismay, he jutted his lip out in a pout. “Can’t you come over for lunch?”

Harry nudged him, “Jamie, remember how we talked about what Y/N does when she isn’t here with us?”

“School. But there’s no school on Saturdays!”

“She does school, you’re right. When you get older, there’s so much you have to do for school that it never stops, not even on weekends. And you know what else she does? She meets up with friends, she plays tennis, she goes shopping for groceries. There’s tons she has to do besides spend time with us, yeah?” He never met her gaze as he spoke to Jamie, and it was better that way— he’d probably have caught her loved up eyes if he dared to do it. He remember details about her she didn’t recall telling him about. As if it hadn’t been enough, he added onto it, “plus, I reckon she’d appreciate a break from us, huh? We’re definitely not the only boys in her life, so we should share once in a while. No matter how much we like having her around.”

It was almost magical, the connection Harry and Jamie shared with each other. Nevermind what he’d said to make Jamie understand (she definitely hadn’t missed that last sentence— or the idea of ‘other boys’ altogether), it just made her happy to listen to them converse. It was healthy, a bit serious when need be but mostly light and protective. He did everything in his power to preserve Jamie’s innocence, especially about his upbringing and the whole mother issue.

After a long train of thought, Jamie slowly nodded his small head, “okay. Fine. But I get you Monday! No other boys Monday through Friday.”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from her mouth, incessant and silly. “Okay, Jamie, I promise I won’t let other boys come between us Monday through Friday, okay? Is that good for you?”

“Me and daddy, though. He’s the only other boy allowed.”

She giggled again, avoiding Harry’s gaze but nodding nonetheless, “sure. Daddy too.”

She felt Harry shift out of her periphery.

“Okay,” he finally settled, outstretching his arm across the table, “pinky promise?”

She did the same, but just before Jamie had a chance to interlink his much smaller finger with hers, she pulled back. “If I pinky promise you on this, will you pinky promise me that you’ll finally go rest?”

He hummed in agreement.

She welcomed the promise, letting her finger link with Jamie’s for a few seconds until he felt ready to let go.

“Now go lay down. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Kay. Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” she cooed at him, arms already outstretched the moment he’d climbed down from Harry’s lap. Jamie gave the best hugs, so she figured Harry would as well. She’d never gotten to test that theory, though. “Okay, good night.”

“Night.”

Jamie took slow steps (he was much like his father that way, taking his time in everything he did) and slowly disappeared into the main room, eventually stalking up the stairs as both Y/N and Harry listened for it.

“Thank you,” Harry then broke the silence. Her eyes flickered toward him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, but a nervous smile playing on her mouth. “You’re so good with him.”

“It’s my job to be good to him.”

“It’s your job to take care of him, but you’re not… you’re doing much more than just be nice to him and I appreciate that. So thank you.”

“He’s a great kid, so… not a very difficult thing to do.”

The air had somehow become thick and unwavering, unspoken words wafting between their bodies across the table and back. Harry looked like he wanted to say more but his jaw stayed shut in place and she certainly wasn’t going to pester him about it. It was already difficult to keep in mind that despite the lighthearted dinner, he was still her employer, and that the boundaries they had been practicing since the beginning of her time here were slowly being blurred and tested.

So it didn‘t really matter what she felt whenever he spoke to her, she had to preserve herself and her position here.

She feigned a glance at the clock to justify looking away and sat up in her chair, “I should go home.”

His nod was curt, “okay. I’ll get the keys.”

“No, don’t worry, I have to stop by somewhere else before. I’ll manage.”

It was a lie, of course it was.

“Fine.”

As Y/N made her way back outside, she regretted declining his offer and the farther she walked away from the house, the more she thought about the things they could’ve talked about had she let him grab his keys and escort her home. If he would walk her to the door like last time, without Jamie in the car of course, and bid her a proper goodbye. How maybe, if they’d inched close enough, they would share a moment of hesitation before kissing. Her imagination ran wild with it and she knew that it wouldn’t really happen, but the chances would’ve been greater had she just been bad.

Shit.

—

Y/N was crying.

She was bursting into tears outside of a bar looking like a pathetic, lost idiot— and it just wouldn‘t stop. She couldn’t recall anymore what exactly she‘d expected before going into the date she‘d spontaneously agreed to as a result of her mother‘s pleas, but it certainly hadn‘t been such an embarrassing let down. Her shoulders slumped as she thought back on her date‘s words: I don’t see this going anywhere, but you’re a really nice girl. Friends?

And why was she crying? She was crying because she knew what he’d really meant was: you’re not my type at all, and this was a waste of my time. How did she know? The way he’d looked at her, with a sparkle of disgust in his eyes, the tone he’d used; pitiful and mean. How he’d looked at other, skinny girls while Y/N had been planted directly in front of him and lastly, how he’d left before the date had even ended.

Y/N hadn’t left the bar as soon as he had, no, she’d stayed until now; closing time. She’d drunk herself to exhaustion, pulling shot after shot and even worrying the barista who went to her psych class at uni. Before she’d known it, the clock had struck three am and four hours had passed since what’s-his-face had left her to rot in there.

She had no idea what to do, she could barely even form a thought. It didn’t matter that she’d been rejected— this wasn’t about that, it was about something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Since the beginning of time relationships had been sparse and dreadful, so another notch on her belt couldn’t have mattered so much as to bring her to a multitude of tears, but she did feel unlovable and undesirable in the way she had throughout all of her life. People had told her things would get better if she waited it out, but they’d lied. Guys were still assholes.

There was really only one person she felt like contacting, and that was Harry. He’d been on her mind all weekend. She’d been wondering if she ever crossed his mind, if for a sliver of a second he allowed himself to think about her in the way she thought about him, and felt a disgustingly sour taste in her mouth when she realized the answer had to have been no.

But Y/N was drunk, and people did stupid things when they were drunk— so without much afterthought, she used the remainder of her battery on dialing his number. He answered after the first ring and her mind wandered to question the plausibility of him being awake at this hour.

“Y/N?”

She was struck watching the road in front of her, unable to answer. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

What had she done?

“Y/N, is everything okay?” another wave of tears overwhelmed her senses and as a result, she sobbed right into the speaker, and heard shuffling on the other side. “Sweetheart, where are you? What’s happened?”

“This guy— he just— he was so mean and he left me here—“

“Where? Where are you? Who left you?”

“The viper.”

“Y/N, that place closed twenty minutes ago. Are you inside?”

“No, she… she said I need to get out, so I did, but I didn’t know where to go cause m’drunk, and I…” there was a pause in which she realized how stupid he must’ve thought she was, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, listen to me. Please stay there, don’t move, and send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”

She had no fight left in her, so she nodded to herself. Harry didn’t see, obviously, but he hung up with the hope that she’d understood him clearly.

When he arrived not fifteen minutes later, he put his car in park and hopped out to find Y/N sat on the floor, a lazy smile pulling at her lips when she laid eyes on him.

“Harry, hi! I was just thinking about you!”

He said nothing, a tick in his jaw as he helped her up on her feet, grounding her stature. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder and he kept a steady beat to bring her to warmth as quickly as possible. Y/N got the idea, aimlessly buckling up and failing miserably until he offered assistance.

“Thank you,” she murmured to him, though he refused to give a verbal response. He merely nodded, jaw still locked in place before he closed the door. Y/N watched as he walked over to the other side and opened the door.

He drove in silence and Y/N tried to be okay with that. She stared ahead, mind still gloomy, with her lips jutted out in a pout. The silent treatment made her feel like a scolded child, like Harry was her angry father who refused to speak to her because she’d come home past her bedtime. She looked over to scan over his features, make sure the crease between his forehead had subsided at least a little, but it hadn’t.

After the longest minute of her life, she finally asked, quietly, “are you mad at me?”

And when he didn’t say anything, her heart dropped.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Y/N didn’t dare to say anything for the rest of the ride. When they got back, Y/N opened her own door and hopped out, refusing to wait for Harry to help. He sighed, she could hear, but she just slowly trailed after him.

“Up on the counter,” he grumbled, grabbing a glass of water to help sober up. She took it from his hand.

“Harry, I’m sor—“

“Drink the water.”

She almost flinched at his angry tone.

Y/N was halfway done with the glass when he scoffed, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “I’m angry because you were irresponsible. First you go on a date with some dickhead—“ she opened her mouth to protest, but failed to when he put up a finger to halt her, “then you get yourself drunk and sit outside of the bar alone in a stingy area. Something could’ve happened to you, then what?”

All Y/N could say was, “it didn’t,” and it was the weakest argument she could’ve thought of.

“It very well could’ve and you’d have your stupidity to thank for it.”

Her heart banged again. She didn’t like getting reprimanded by Harry, nearly at the end of her rope anyway. She‘d never seen this side of him before, stern and miserly. Clearly Y/N had only really seen one version of him and had gotten lost in the illusion of it all.

In a last attempt to make him understand, vulnerable and naked, she let herself sniffle, “I don’t think anyone is ever going to love me.”

She‘d expected it to pull at her heartstrings more than it ended up doing— ironically enough, she felt fine confessing to him. Maybe it was the fact that she‘d bottled it up for so long that it was nice to finally admit to it, to allow somebody else to step into her shoes. Of course, every confession came with a tinge of embarrassment (it wouldn’t be a confession otherwise), but this one was still manageable. And yeah, maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her system, but who cared?

“What?”

“No one loves me. I’ve never… guys have never liked me enough to want to brag about it, or keep me around for longer than a month, and… and I do get it, cause I come with a shit ton of baggage, but it just… it takes a lot to be motivated about things that way. I’m twenty three and I’ve barely experienced what it means to love someone and actually have them love you back.”

The display of vulnerability floated heavily through the air.

He was silent for a second. He did that sometimes, she noticed, especially when he was processing things.

Once he did open his mouth, though, he knew exactly what to say, “you can’t let some immature boys get to you like this, you hear me? Tell me one good asset the guy you went on a date with had.”

Y/N shook her head, not because she couldn‘t have if she‘d thought about it hard enough but because she had no energy to continue this conversation any longer. He wouldn’t get it

“See? No guy is worth crying over, especially not on some dirty pavement outside of a bar.”

He truly did have a point there, she supposed.

But it wasn’t just about that, so she told him exactly that— well, at least tried to, “it’s more than… I don’t… I don’t feel good enough.”

“You’re being a bit silly, sweetheart.” She registered how sweet he’d gotten again, finger brushing against her knee and features softening just enough to convince her of safety. He probably felt bad for her. “You’re plenty good enough.”

“Y’don’t get it,” she murmured, “you don’t understand what it feels like to get rejected solely because of your looks.” Y/N had always felt slightly weird talking about her appearance with people who weren’t her closest friends, and even then she felt judgment coming from them. Each time they asked if she would come clubbing with them to score boys, she was never able to honestly express that she‘d never wanted to go because it was always her who was left riding home in an uber alone. And it wasn’t like she felt ugly— in fact, there were instances she felt so confident nobody could’ve told her anything, but then there were those few others… and her whole system came down crashing.

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t be so daft, could he?

“You’re— you just don’t fucking get it, okay? It’s… whatever, I don’t care.”

That took some courage too, courage she only registered after having uttered the words, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t mutter the words this guy didn’t fancy me because I’m fat, because she still had more class than that— even drunk. Ever the childish, pouty person she was, she had more shame than that.

She buried her face in her hands, breathing out, “I’m sorry. Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” he placed a warm hand on her thigh, thumb stroking soothingly. With a sympathetic look in his eye (confusion too, she guessed), he tried to pacify her concerns, “you need sleep, everything will be better when you wake up.”

He was probably right about that.

“Okay.”

As he escorted her up the stairs, she couldn’t help but let her eyes trail over his features, watching as they hardened and softened based on the turmoil occurring inside of his mind. She wanted to reach in there and grab onto clues, grasp an understanding of the workings of him, but he made that nearly impossible. She would look away if he caught her eye, cheeks heating up every time she was captured by his darkened green irises.

He opened the door, allowing her to take the first step. She didn’t really need the help, but she couldn’t complain when his hand posed on the small of her back so he could maneuver her onto the sheets.

“Do you want a change of clothes, Y/N?”

“Um, if you have something?”

She doubted there was anything in his huge closet that would fit her in the way she preferred, but the idea of spending the night in jeans was just as dreadful, so she took the chance and nodded.

He came back later with a stack of clothes perched on his left hand, the other holding another glass of water. “Anything else?”

Y/N paused for a moment to think and shook her head, “no. But just—“ she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She couldn’t believe the words she spoke next, no thought invested into them: “will you come into bed with me?”

Time refused to pass, the ball was in his court.

When he gave a subtle nod, it was like god and the universe were sending good karma her way. Her compensation for the night. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Y/N scooted to the other edge of the bed, reaching down under the blanket to rid herself of her jeans and pull on those grey sweatpants. Surprisingly enough, they fit extremely well. Harry laid down over the blanket (to prevent getting too comfortable, probably) and perched himself onto his forearm.

Another bold wave met with Y/N’s courage as she reached out her hand to trail over his chest. Harry swallowed thickly.

“You’re really nice t’me.”

“You deserve to be treated well.” The snort that left her was completely involuntary, but it still made Harry frown. “You do.”

“Everyone does,” she later mumbled in agreement. He seemed to dislike the way she’d surrendered, though, because he did that thing with his jaw whenever he was ticked off.

What he didn’t like was the implication behind her tone that she only deserved respect because everyone did, regardless of her own character. She was disregarding her beauty and her kindness, her character, and reducing it to a commodity when it wasn’t.

He’d always had difficulty expressing his feelings, though, so he stuck with silence. Stone cold silence.

It pertained for five more minutes until he watched as sleep slowly overtook her figure, peaceful breaths cascading from her mouth. She looked so pretty asleep; relaxed, void of concerns and the crinkle in her forehead from tonight’s events dissipating into its initial form.

He wondered if she’d ever given him other implications of being an insecure girl— if she had, he’d caught none of them. He never would’ve thought somebody so effortlessly beautiful and kind as her could think to deserve less on such extreme levels. It made him wonder if anyone had ever treated her as she deserved; he noticed once that whenever she spoke about her family, she failed to mention her father. It seemed men had disappointed her in more ways than one.

There was inner turmoil bothering him. He didn’t know what he was feeling for his child’s nanny, but there was surely no other woman he felt as eager to take care of— picking her up, driving her home, clearing a room for her.

It was terrifying to allow himself these few minutes of observing her because he feared the impure thoughts which would cross his mind. Not perverse, but intimate. She deserved more than him, he was sure of it.

He left the room after another five minutes, trying to be as subtle as possible as he walked to the door. It was later than four am, so he stopped by his son’s room to check on him. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he finally carried himself to his own bedroom.

He would lie awake until sunrise.

—

Y/N had never woken up so panicked before, chest heaving and mind elsewhere entirely. Her head was pounding and her heart rate palpable, she was sweating all over and she could only recall last night in small, blurry tidbits.

God, and she had to face Harry. On a Monday morning.

After maybe ten minutes of lying around and procrastinating, she finally moved herself out of bed. She pulled on her clothes from last night, drank the water that was situated on her nightstand and tidied up in the bathroom before going to search for him. She looked upstairs— no trace of him, so she cascaded down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. On the way there, his office caught her eye. The door was cracked opened and at a closer peek, she saw him sitting at the desk with his hand buried in his hair, mumbling something. She knocked, he flinched.

“God, Y/N, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she gave a sheepish smile, “are you busy?”

“I—“ he sighed, shaking his head. It was when he spoke into the phone lying on his desk that she realized he’d been one a phone call. Before she could backtrack, he’d muttered an ‘I’ll call you later, Stace’ to them and hung up for her. She stood there, fingers interlaced in front of her body and balancing on the balls of her feet in intimidation.

He didn’t look happy either, and that was probably because ‘Stace’ was Jamie’s mother. She would call every few months, he’d told her, and cause some sort of havoc— from wanting to talk to Jamie on the phone to wanting to see him in person. When asked why he didn’t like letting her see Jamie, he’d given Y/N a very vague answer; wouldn’t do any good. She’d settled with that back then, having sensed the energy shifting.

Y/N felt bad for him now, the stress assuming control of his features almost overwhelming to look at.

He was already glancing up at her expectantly, but the words disappeared from her brain and all she wanted to do, really, was comfort him.

“I— are you okay?”

It was a visceral reaction he had to those few little words, the furrow in his eyebrow deepening, “yes, why?”

“Because… well because you were talking to Stacie on the phone—“

His scoff interrupted her pity stutter, “so you’re listening in on my conversations now?”

Oh, she was no longer sorry; she was scared. “No! No, I’m not, I swear! I was walking past looking for you and I heard you mumble something, I don’t— I would never…” and he must’ve known that. He must’ve known that she would never, ever listen in on his conversations, nor try to overstep the line by doing that (obviously she’d fucked up last night, but aside from that). He knew her, he’d trusted her for long enough for her to know that he knew that, so his accusation ticked her off.

But he looked terrifying right now; eyes dark, eyebrows furrowed, closed off stance, and nothing like the Harry she’d gotten to know well. And she had no idea if it had been last night or this that had finally pushed him over the edge.

“So why bring it up?”

“Because you— because you’ve talked about it before and I was just— I wanted to check on you!” She was stuttering like an idiot, she was aware, but with her comfort bubble gone, her speech wasn’t a reliable asset anymore. She’d always been terrible at communication and even worse at confrontation. And he must’ve known that because he was using it to his advantage— and that was mean, because he knew she would never. He knew. Didn’t he?

“It’s not professional, Y/N, but I’m sure you know that. I’m sure you know that last night wasn’t either, but you keep fucking pushing me.”

And that… well, was partly right.

“I know last night wasn’t…” she shook her head, “it wasn’t professional, I know that. I don’t know why I called you, I don’t get it either, it just happened, really, and I wanted to apologize. I understand if you—“ she peered down toward her hands, swallowing the lump in her throat, “if you don’t feel comfortable with me being here anymore. With your son, I mean, I’d totally understand.”

Y/N thought that was quite sensible of her. Of course, if she could get a chance to have a repeat of last night, she would take it in a heartbeat— but she couldn’t, so this was all she could do. She loved working here, giving it up would hurt, but she understood if that was what needed to be done.

“You just… you can’t fucking call me at three am in the morning drunk off of your arse—“

“I know that—“

“Clearly you don’t!” And she detested how his voice raised. “And clearly you don’t get that there are things you just can’t talk about; like Stacie, or your own relationships, or whatever the fuck else you’ve brought up to me.” If she felt like a scolded child yesterday, then she’d had no idea how bad it could get. “I’m your— I’m your employer, not your fucking therapist. I’m not here to clean up your fuck-ups, pat you on the head and tell you it’s alright.”

Her eyebrows furrowed because she knew that too, and she found it borderline preposterous that he would imply she didn’t.

There was a 180 here, and she was becoming less and less understanding.

“I told you I don’t know why I called you, Harry, I don’t know! What am I supposed to say? I was terrified and sad and don’t ask me why, but you’re the only person who actually gets what I’m talking about half of the time, so it just happened!”

“You act like I’m somehow responsible for you.”

Her frown deepened; she hated the notion that he had to take care of her in some way, as if she was incapable of it on her own account. “On what basis? I think you might be pressuring yourself into that, Harry, because it’s fucking ridiculous. I never made you do anything.”

He released a frustrated breath, “you have to stop worming your way into our lives— you’re our nanny, that’s it. You don’t ask me about my personal life, you don’t call me in the middle of the night to make me worry and you don’t ask me to get into bed with you.”

“You act like I don’t know that!”

“Evidently you don’t.”

“Yes I d—“

“Just—just stop. Stop talking.”

It shut her up. It did not only that, the increase of his volume had made her flinch on the spot. She wasn’t a fan of confrontation, as mentioned before, but what she despised even more was yelling. She couldn’t stand yelling, fighting, accusations being thrown in the air with no regard to anyone’s feelings. It was an extremely sensitive thing for her and she definitely hadn’t expected to experience it with him today.

Y/N saw him a little differently in this light. The sternness with which he delivered those words, strict and mean, reminded her of her childhood. He saw her weakness, saw the stress she was under, and did nothing to relieve the situation. Instead he’d yelled at her.

Her hand was shaking a little and tears were forming in her eyes. She couldn’t let him see it, though, the weakness. She couldn’t allow him to see that a simple instruction had made her want to cry.

“I can’t deal with you today, Y/N, so please just… just go.”

She left without another word— straight up turned around and closed the door behind her with shaky hands. She couldn’t stand him right now, but even more she couldn’t stand herself.

She’d fucked up so badly.

And maybe… maybe she needed to quit.

part two!

And there we have it! don’t hate me for that ending it was necessary!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles series

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cupid-styles · 4 months

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daisy (english profrry x TA!yn)

part one of english profrry is here!!!!!

word count: 6.3k

BIG content warnings: massive, glaring warning for an inappropriate relationship. y/n is a graduate student in this and of legal consenting age, but there's an age gap of four years between her and harry. she is his TA, which means there's a big power imbalance between them. bc this is fic we'll pretend it's romantic and all very consensual but if this is triggering to you in any way, DO NOT READ IT. it's not worth hurting your mental health. also, if anything remotely like this happens in your personal life, IT IS NOT OKAY.

other CWs: small smut scene at the end (m masturbation with descriptions of m receiving oral, slight cum play), y/n alludes to having seasonal depression but it's never outwardly said (just be aware since the descriptions of it could be triggering to some!), a bit of angst but nothing crazy

with all that out of the way, if you still choose to read, I hope you enjoy :) love you all lots!!

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. . .

Professor Styles is a dick.

That’s what the entire English department said when it was announced that Y/N would be his newest teaching assistant for the spring semester.

They all sneered at her, throwing what they pretended to be caring warnings her way, claiming that he was impossible to work with and he didn’t even actually need a TA, he just liked picking students to embarrass. With their noses upturned at Y/N but not actually offering any kind of advice, she left the small English building shortly after the Dean unveiled the new schedule for TAs, anxiety bubbling in her stomach and thick, salty tears in her waterline.

She knows Professor Styles doesn’t have the greatest reputation on campus. She actually actively avoided taking any classes with him throughout the duration of her bachelor’s degree, and even as she chose to stay on to enter her first year of graduate school, she picked any other available professors over him.

He was known for his less-than-personable demeanor and the way he picked apart students’ essays, leaving them questioning their entire life path. Y/N has never felt much insecurity about her career — she’s always wanted to go into English, maybe opting for a small but impactful job in publishing or editing — but having a professional ruin her writing sounded… well, awful.

In reality, Y/N didn’t have much of a choice when it came to her teaching assistant preferences. She needed a job that wouldn’t take up too much of her time. Her first semester of grad school was difficult and stressful. All of her friends graduated and went on to cool jobs all over the country, while Y/N just stayed in the same apartment. She was homesick for her family and walked through a campus every day that reminded her of a better version of herself — one who had a flourishing social life and excellent grades. Just a few months of working on her masters degree had worn her down.

Despite the slight dip in her grades from university to graduate school (an expected change, her advisor had explained), she was still recommended as a TA for the English department in the spring. She’d really been gunning after Professor Rooney, a kind, middle-aged woman who had spent years working glamorous jobs in the publishing world. She had connections everywhere and was incredibly sweet, and Y/N knew she would feel comfortable working in her sections for the semester. All winter break, she imagined how wonderful it could be; that maybe it was the huge win she needed after such a shitty fall.

But Professor Rooney didn’t choose her. Professor Styles did.

Even with a promise of a reasonable stipend contingent on the completion of her TA position, Y/N’s world felt like it came crashing down just a little bit — but she knew better than to complain or blubber on about not getting her way. Instead, she chose to just get through it.

In the final days of winter break, Professor Styles emailed her to meet in his office the day before classes began. He didn’t ask if she was back on campus or if she had a good break. Y/N wanted to resent that, but chose to swallow it down.

When she got to his small office in the department, she gently knocked on the open door, signaling her arrival. He peered up from whatever book he was hunched over on his deck, straightened his posture, and checked his watch.

“You’re late.” he said flatly, shutting the paperback with a force she didn’t even know was possible. With furrowed brows, she glanced at the lockscreen on the phone she held.

“You said 10:30, right? It’s 10:30 now.”

“On time is late,” he muttered, folding his hands on his desk, “Early is on time.”

She swallowed, her lips parting like a guppy. He rolled his eyes and motioned to the seat on the other side of her desk. Quickly, she took it, placing her tote bag at her feet and making a mental reminder to arrive at his classes five minutes early from this point on.

“Right, so you’re my TA, then?”

She nodded, “Yes, for the spring semester.”

He hummed, though she couldn’t tell if it was a sound of approval or discontent. He moved his computer mouse over the surface of the university provided mouse pad, making his computer buzz to life. With an awkward silence settling between them, the sound of the mouse clicking was the only thing that filled the dim office.

“You just graduated from the English department last spring,” he said, eyes scanning over what she now assumed was her student file, “3.8 GPA. That’s fine.”

She blinked at that, resisting the urge to balk at him. 3.8 was .2 away from a perfect GPA. It was more than fine.

“You didn’t take any classes with me during your time as an undergrad.”

“Um, your sections were always full—”

“I don’t really care what your reasoning is,” he cut her off, continuing to scroll down the screen. A lump formed in her throat but she tried to swallow it down. Nothing sounded more embarrassing than crying in front of Professor Styles. “And now you’re getting your masters in English with a concentration in Feminist Literature. That’s an unusual one. Why?”

She’s surprised he’s bothered to ask her a question, so it takes her a moment to form a cohesive answer on her tongue. She’s flailing a bit and she knows he can tell, based on the unamused expression on his face.

“I’ve read a lot of literature where there’s a female main character and she’s just used to state a point or some sort of backwards lesson that was considered modernized for the time,” Y/N speaks softly, picking at her nails in her lap, “I’m interested in studying that more.”

“What kind of literature?” Professor Styles instantly fires back.

“Well, I wrote my undergraduate thesis on The Scarlet Letter, but I’ve also been thinking about basing my graduate capstone on Ophelia from Hamlet.”

He makes that annoying humming noise again, and she’s still unsure if he’s pleased or thinks she’s an idiot. She wasn’t unused to the latter — a lot of snobs in the English department thought it was stupid of her to care for critiquing older pieces of writing from an argumentative, feminist perspective, even if they acted like The Odyssey was an “absolute must-read” for everyone.

(It’s not. Y/N thinks The Odyssey is dumb and boring, but she’ll never say that, especially not to Professor Styles.)

“Right, well,” he lifts a white ceramic coffee cup to his mouth and swallows briefly. She glances down to see he’s drinking hot black coffee, and her lips furl into a quick, involuntary wince. “You’ll be with me three days a week. You are to attend the daily lectures — Mondays and Wednesdays are the shorter section and Friday is the long, three-hour one. Helping out with grading and holding office hours will be your primary tasks. If you fall ill or need to take a day off, I need at least 24 hours notice. If I receive any complaints from students, you’re out. Otherwise, it should be a fine semester. Any questions?”

She shakes her head, hoping he’ll show some inkling of delight at her quick ability to understand and process. Instead, his lips remain in a flat line and he nods, taking another sip of his coffee.

“You can go now. See you tomorrow.”

She scrambles to leave his office as quickly as possible.

. . .

Professor Styles barely speaks to Y/N for the first few weeks.

It’s unsettling in a way, especially because she doesn’t know if she’s doing a good job. She thrives off of reassurance, but every time she hands him a neat stack of newly graded papers or drafts, he simply waves her off with an, “alright, thanks.”

If she’s being honest, it makes her want to try even harder, though she’s not entirely sure why. She has the urge to claw her way to the very top of Professor Styles’ repertoire of students and assistants — a need for perfectionism that can only be quelled by the person least likely to give it to her.

And it’s driving her absolutely insane.

She wants to ask, straight out, “am I doing an alright job? Do you need anything more from me?”, but she’s positive that will only make her glow with insecurity. He’d probably laugh in her face and call her a baby for needing his acceptance.

It eats her alive as she sits at the front of the lecture hall, watching his female students stare at him with hearts in their eyes as he discusses the politics of Ursula Le Guin. It bugs her only more than he's one of the most attractive people she's ever seen, always impeccably dressed with long, ring-clad fingers.

Grumbling, she realizes that she probably looks just as pathetic, so she quickly straightens her posture and runs her fingertips over the mousepad of her laptop so it glows back to life. She’s supposed to be going over the grades of the students’ first essays — her and Professor Styles were meeting after class to discuss them in the event that anyone needed additional assistance for the upcoming paper.

She busies herself with that until he ends class, creating a list of a few names that would potentially need to be met with one-on-one. He doesn’t say anything as he gathers his own materials from the lecture, and she follows him out of the hall and to his office just as silently, carrying her laptop in one hand and her tote bag on her shoulder.

Professor Styles’ office is always cold and dark, never failing to send a shiver down her spine when he unlocks the door. Today, her shoulders shudder involuntarily and she pushes her sweater sleeves down to cover her hands. With a rumple in his eyebrows, he sits down.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

Y/N snaps her head up in surprise. She doesn’t mean to look shocked, so she quickly revises her facial features in an attempt to look collected.

“Oh, it’s just cold,” she says, waving him off nonchalantly, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah. I think this winter has been especially brutal.”

His reply especially dazes her — she’s unsure if that’s an attempt at making small talk, something Professor Styles has never done with her before, but she instantly nods her head, as if she’s speaking with a toddler who’s expressing their emotions for the first time.

“Yeah, I think so,” she says softly, “The snow is awful to walk through.”

“Do you live far from campus?”

She shakes her head and sets her laptop and planner on her side of the desk, across from Professor Styles and his things.

“No, just a 10 minute walk or so, but I don’t have a car.”

He hums at that — that stupid, unassuming hum that contributes absolutely nothing to the conversation. She wonders if she’s in her head about it, but she feels his eyes linger just a beat longer on her face before tearing them away. He licks over his teeth as he taps on his laptop to wake it back up.

“Right, then. Did you go over their grades?”

As she pulls her things out from her bag, she tries to ignore the small pit of disappointment in her tummy from Professor Styles shifting their conversation back over to class.

. . .

That weekend, Y/N thinks she’s hallucinating as she meanders up and down the aisles at Target.

She’s not really looking for anything in particular. Sometimes she just comes here for something to do. Her bank account isn't exactly flowing in a way that permits her to buy all the cute home decor she gazes at, which is why her basket currently consists of the following: pads, a new pack of her favorite gel pens, cookie dough, and a lip balm that she’ll probably put back before she checks out.

It’s another harsh, cold day out, the freezing temperatures refusing to let up as the days of the month flit by. This is Y/N’s least favorite time of year — when winter sticks around despite the holidays being long gone. All that’s left between now and spring is pesky snow and fake Hallmark holidays, and she yearns for the days where she can walk to campus and admire the tulips peeking out from the damp soil. By then, she’ll be closer to returning to her hometown for the summer, where she’ll likely get a job for a few months working in the local library or bookstore.

It’ll be good — she’ll get to see her friends and spend time with family and save up some money, and maybe the hopefulness of life warming up in a few months will be enough to get her through this semester.

And as she’s daydreaming of brighter days, that’s when it happens — when she thinks she must be fully hallucinating, because as she strolls down one aisle in particular, Professor Styles is standing there, his bottom lip pinched between his fingers as he stares at space heaters.

She’s never seen him off campus. Sometimes that happens since a lot of professors live close by, so it’s not unheard of to pass by an advisor or faculty member at the supermarket or through the park. But seeing Professor Styles here feels… illegal, somehow, especially given his casual, dressed down attire. He’s wearing what looks to be a cozy sweatshirt and a pair of athletic shorts, despite the temperature nearing the 20s today. (Y/N is bundled up in three sweaters, a jacket, a scarf, gloves, and leggings beneath her jeans.) White socks go just above his ankles, and the running shoes on his feet make her wonder if he’s insane enough to actually be working out in this weather.

She must be analyzing his form for a beat too long — maybe it’s the shock from it that still hasn’t worn off — because he feels her gaze, eyes veering to his peripheral, realizing that his teaching assistant is standing there as if she’s waiting for permission to enter the aisle.

“Hey,” she blurts out when she realizes she’s been caught.

Confused by her frank, laidback greeting, he lifts his head to face her. “Hey.” he echoes awkwardly.

“Um, sorry.”

He quirks an eyebrow and Y/N’s body heats with embarrassment. “Sorry?”

“Sorry… I-I should’ve just walked away when I saw you,” Y/N quickly attempts to revise, but she realizes it’s just making her sound stupider, “I was just surprised to see you here.”

“In a public store?”

“Right,” she nods curtly, turning on her heel, “Have a good rest of your weekend—”

“Wait, did you need something down here?” he rushes out, almost as if he’s fearful she’ll leave. She pushes the thought down but parts her lips nervously, eyes scanning over the contents on the shelves. She doesn’t need anything, she was just putting off having to brave the cold weather on her walk home.

“Yes,” she says slowly because, once again, she’s suddenly stupefied and enamored by the prospect of small talk with Professor Styles, “I needed… lighters. For my candles.”

He nods, a quiet “ah,” sounding from his lips, and they stand there like they’re doing some sort of parallel play; Y/N pretending to look at the long, safety lighters while Professor Styles continues to look at space heaters. She wonders if he for some reason is pretending, too, but then he’ll squat down to look at the features on one box, making a tsk-ing noise with his mouth, and straighten back up to analyze a different model.

When he finally decides on an option that’s best fit, he grabs the box and places it in his cart. Quickly, Y/N plucks a random display of lighters and throws them in her basket.

“Hope you found a good one,” she mutters out dumbly, feeling the need to interject one last sentence into their silence. He glances down at his cart, then at her basket, and then, finally, at her.

“It’s for the office,” he says. “You said it was cold.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“This should help with that.”

“Sure, yeah. I have one at home, it helps a lot with the draftiness.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Maybe you can get an extra lamp in there, too. Spruce it up a bit.”

A wrinkle forms between his brows, “What do you mean?”

Y/N wishes the ground would swallow her up whole.

“Nothing! I just meant— like, sometimes it’s a bit cold, and with the weather, it can get dark, too. The winter’s tough, don’t you think? That’s all I meant, I’m sorry—”

“No, you’re right,” he says with a decisive nod. “You’re the only other person that really spends time there besides students. Do you want to help pick one out?”

“Sure, okay.”

They walk in silence to the lighting display, which is filled with a myriad of different options. Professor Styles looks semi-overwhelmed by it all and Y/N has to bite her lip so she doesn’t smile too widely at his confused expression. She points to a simple, inexpensive standing lamp.

“I think something like this would be good, in the corner or something. Just for some extra brightness.”

“Is that the one you like?”

Y/N doesn’t have strong lamp preferences, especially when it comes to a space that she’s not even living in, but for some reason, it seems important that she says yes. So she nods her head, flashing him a small smile. He returns it, and she realizes that’s the first time he’s ever smiled at her.

“Okay. I’ll have this stuff set up for when you come in on Monday.”

She swallows, feeling the mountain of adoration in her stomach grow. She shoves it down.

“Thank you, that’s really kind of you,” she says.

“Sure. I’ll see you then. Have a good rest of your weekend.”

She hides in the lamp aisle for another 15 minutes, until she’s positive he’s left the store.

. . .

Professor Styles and Y/N are working in their typical silence when he says something that makes her jaw nearly drop to the floor.

She thought that after their short but personable interaction at the store, things would change a bit. Maybe he would feel more comfortable talking to her outside of monotone grunts or the occasional “are they failing my class?”, but things remained the same. When she came in that Monday, the space heater and lamp were both on and running as he promised, but it was as if nothing happened.

It irks Y/N to no end.

She assumes that he sincerely doesn’t care for her, which she supposes is fine considering kindness or approval aren’t part of the job description. That’s why she’s shocked when he says it a few weeks after the weekend they saw one another in public.

“I think you should ask to change your advisor to me.”

Y/N chokes on her spit, hurriedly coughing into her hand so she doesn’t spray saliva all over his desk. Once she recovers, he’s staring at her expectedly, as if what he said was completely and utterly sane.

“Sorry?” she asks, “Why would I do that?”

She doesn’t mean it to sound rude, but it’s a genuine question. Typically, there’s some type of rapport between a grad student and their advisor, and she and Professor Styles have absolutely none of that.

Professor Styles clears his throat and folds his hands on his desk. “Because I got my masters degree in the same thing, so I spent four years studying exactly what you’re studying. I think you’ve been doing very well as my TA and I would like to advise you.”

“Why would you ask me why I was studying that, then?” she blurts out, confusion apparent on her face. “The first day we met, you told me it was unusual.”

“It is.”

“But you studied it.”

“I did.”

“So why would you say that?”

Professor Styles sighs as if this is the most boring and obvious conversation he’s had all day.

“I wanted to hear you defend it. See why you’re interested and make sure it’s not all bullshit.”

Y/N shakes her head, “So you were playing some kind of mind game with me? For fun?”

“It wasn’t a mind game, Y/N. I just wanted to know why you’re interested in it.”

She bites her lip and looks down at her laptop screen, which has since gone dim since they began talking. If she’s being truthful, she’s grown tired of Professor Styles. Up until now, she was positive she was doing things wrong and he just didn’t care enough to correct her — only to find out that he wanted to work with her even more. It made zero sense.

“Are you going to do it, then?” he asks, tearing her from her thoughts. Her expression pinches as she rolls her lips into a thin line.

“I don’t know.�� she answers in a watery voice. “I like my advisor, and I assumed you didn’t like me very much.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Why wouldn’t I like you?”

“You barely utter three words to me on a daily basis and never tell me if you’re happy with my work.”

Professor Styles scoffs, leaning back against his leather computer chair.

“You need regular approval from me to know whether or not I like you?”

“Yes,” she admits, anger building in her chest until she can’t help but blurt out what she’s thinking, “It’s how I work. If you were a good professor, you would’ve asked how I best function at the beginning of the semester. Instead, you ignore me for fun.”

“You don’t think I’m a good professor.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “I didn’t mean that. I think you are. I just don’t think you’re the best at managing teaching assistants.”

He shrugs, but she notices a slight wince in his features. “We can’t all be good at everything, can we?”

“Right,” she mumbles, drumming her fingers on the edge of his desk. When he doesn’t reply, she shuts her laptop and stuffs it in her bag. “I’m gonna go then. I’ll see you next week.”

He’s silent as she gets her things together and pulls her jacket on, wrapping her scarf around her neck and zipping it on top of her sweater for extra warmth. As her boots carry her across the length of his office and to the door, he stands from his seat.

“Y/N,” he says, and she turns to look at him. “The deadline to change your advisor is next Friday. I hope you’ll still consider it.”

. . .

That evening, all Harry can think about is his sweet, quiet TA. The one who he undoubtedly offended earlier today — he cringes at the thought of it, replaying their conversation over and over in his head. He can’t stop thinking about the upset look on her face. When she asked if he was playing mind games with her, he wanted to get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. He never meant to hurt her, not one bit.

He sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. He’s had reruns of some shitty sitcom on since he got home from work a few hours ago. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, but even a laugh track and ‘90s era merriment couldn’t distract him from thinking about her.

He considers the things she said about wanting his approval. He’s never been well-liked in the English department, likely because of his rough exterior. He’s not immune to the things he hears from students and faculty, about how he’s grumpy and someone to be feared, even if he didn’t even intend to come off that way. In all honesty, he never wanted to be perceived in that matter — but once his reputation began to precede him a year or two ago, he figured there was no use in trying to convince people otherwise.

That's how it had always gone, anyway — in high school, when he started experimenting with different styles of clothing, everyone assumed he was gay. He'd desperately tried to refute those claims, even if he wasn't completely sure of his sexuality himself. But no one cared — they'd already made up their minds, and it seemed useless to attempt to change their ways of thinking.

And when people spoke here, mumbling about how mean and terrible he was... well, what was the point?

Y/N was the only person he cared to win over, and it was eating him alive.

So much so that he made the blind decision to maybe, possibly cross a very clear boundary between professor and TA. Despite Y/N being of legal, consenting age (after looking at her student file, he found that he’s only four years older), he still attempted to prioritize maintaining a professional relationship with every one of his students and TAs.

He couldn’t help himself with her, though. He knew it was bad — he could feel his heart thumping quickly in his chest, the logical part of his brain telling him to stop while he’s ahead, but he couldn’t. Not as he grabbed his laptop, logged into his work email, and composed a message to her student address. Not when his fingers danced over the keyboard and resisted the urge to implore her to start fresh with him. Not when he clicked ‘send’ without even proofreading to make sure it sounded appropriate, not creepy or weird.

He pushed his laptop away and got up to pour himself some wine, attempting to rid himself of any lingering guilt.

. . .

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Today

Time: 9:57 p.m.

Hi Y/N,

I wanted to apologize for how I acted today. It wasn’t kind of me and you deserve far better than that. I understand if you have no interest in changing your advisor. Please know that whatever you decide, your TA position will not be in danger, should you choose to continue working with me.

Thank you for all of your hard work. You’ve been doing an excellent job and I’ve very much enjoyed having you this semester. Have a good weekend.

x Harry Styles

. . .

On Monday, Y/N’s mind is whirring.

It’s not because the semester is nearing midterm season, although that’s part of it. It’s because Professor Styles emailed her an apology at almost 10 pm on Friday evening, and she’s repeatedly read it over at least 50 times since receiving it.

She didn’t reply because she wasn’t sure what to say — and, most shockingly, he didn’t sign it as Professor Styles. Instead, he ended the message with a kiss, for crying out loud, followed by his name. His name!

It’s all she’s been able to focus on for days, to the point where she contemplates not showing up to his lecture on Monday. But she’s better than that — she’s stronger, and she’s smarter, and she doesn’t want to hide.

She avoids Professor Styles’ gaze all throughout his lecture, instead focusing on grading first drafts for the class’ midterm paper. She knows she’ll have to sit with him in his office afterwards, and her stomach churns at the thought. In some way, she feels ashamed that she said anything to begin with. Her comments about him not managing TAs properly have made her shrivel into a mortified version of herself, and she’s shocked he didn’t fire her on the spot.

Worst of all, she hates the way her heart jumped into her throat when his name popped up on her screen on Friday night. She craved the feeling, hoping he would, for some reason, do it again, even though she never responded. She wasn’t playing hard to get by any means, but the fact that her brain even veered in that direction proved one thing to be true: she has a big, fat crush on Professor Styles.

The knowledge sits like a rock in her stomach, especially as they walk in silence to his office after class. The air between them feels awkward, but she’s not sure that there’s ever been a time where it hasn’t felt odd between them. When he unlocks the door, she quietly steps inside, her heart skipping a beat at the space heater and lamp already turned on.

Usually, he keeps the door open while they work. Today, he shuts it, the soft click of the lock making her jump.

“Can we talk?”

Y/N’s throat dries but she nods, gripping the strap of her tote bag close to her arm. She turns to face him, and for the first time ever, she notices that he looks… nervous.

“About last week. I’m sorry, but I’m even more sorry for emailing you that on Friday,” he rushes the words out like he wrote a script out and was waiting to perform them, “It was completely inappropriate, and I got the hint when you didn’t reply.”

“The hint?” she peeps out, her voice squeaky and embarrassing.

“Yeah,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, “About not wanting me to advise you and… you probably found my email to be weird, right?”

Quickly, she shakes her head. “No, no. I.. I actually haven’t given much thought to the advisor thing, but I didn’t think it was weird. I just didn’t know how to respond.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Why’s that?”

“Because I felt guilty about what I said to begin with! A-and you could’ve fired me if you wanted to, but instead you apologized and said that I’m doing a good job—”

“You are.”

“Exactly!” she exclaims frustratedly. “I didn’t know how to respond to that.”

“To me being… kind?”

“Yes.”

He blinks at her, the crinkle between his brows deepening.

“I’m just not used to it, Professor Styles.” she says with a sigh.

“Harry,” he corrects.

“What?”

“My name is Harry. I don’t want you to call me Professor Styles.”

Y/N ignores the quickening of her heartbeat and shifts her stance from foot to foot.

“Why are you doing this?” she eventually blurts as she crosses her arms over her sweater-clad form. She’s not sure if she detects an inkling of pity in his face, but if she does, she wants nothing more than to run for the hills and never return. For some reason, the thought of Professor— Harry feeling bad for her makes her shoulders shudder, a prickly sensation tip-toeing down her spine, as if shame is completely and utterly eating her alive.

His lips part in a quiet sigh. “I just… I spent the weekend thinking of you and feeling awful for the way I’ve treated you.”

Thinking of you.

I spent the weekend thinking of you.

Her stomach turns as his words echo throughout the chambers of her brain. But then there’s a click — like the second part of the sentence just ekes its way through, planting a seed of self-doubt and insecurity. And she backs away like he may explode at any moment.

“You shouldn’t— no, that’s alright,” she shakes her head, gaze set low on the carpeted floors of his tiny office.

“Y/N—”

Again, she cuts him off with a shake of her head, raising her eyes to look at him. His expression is pained and she wonders if hers is any better, though she assumes for different reasons: He doesn’t want to get fired for torturing another grad student. She has an inappropriate crush on the professor she works for.

“It’s all good. Call it even?” she rushes out, leaning over to grab her things from her chair, “Fresh start on Wednesday. Don’t mention it again, alright?”

She’s gone before he can stop her.

. . .

Harry accidentally falls asleep in his office that evening.

It’s half because he’s absolutely swamped with work, too fearful to email Y/N and add things to her grading pile after the way she all but ran away earlier today. He’s terrified he made her uncomfortable.

He doesn’t want to return to the quiet loneliness of his apartment, where he’s constantly faced to force the reality of his life: A man in his early 30s with a job that he likes, but no one actually likes him at it. His entire family resides in London and with the exception of a few friends from his schooling years, he’s alone. Especially in the romance department.

His heart aches for Y/N. He realizes it’s a bit dramatic, even slightly taboo given the nature of their professional relationship, but he likes her. He likes her so much that he doesn’t want to go home and think about how badly he messed things up, so he falls asleep face-down on his desk, his cranium wedged between piles of pens and a Post-It list of to-do’s.

When he wakes up, he doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for. The soft, golden light from the lamp is still just barely bathing the circumference of the room, but as he blinks his eyes open, he realizes that it’s silent. He can see through the small frosted window that the hallways are dim, which means it’s most definitely sometime in the evening.

He feels… somewhat guilty but charged as he wakes from the fog of his sleep, eyebrows furrowing as he stretches his arms out. His neck already aches from the discomfort of his sleeping position and he groans, lifting a palm to sort the knot out.

And that’s when he realizes it — why he feels as if his body is buzzing, his hands sweaty and his throat dry. He’d woken up in the middle of a sex dream and, like a pathetic teenager, the star of it had been his crush. Y/N.

He scoffs to himself as he glances down at his crotch where, sure enough, his length is painfully hard beneath the constriction of his trousers and underwear. He swallows, eyes flickering closed. He can remember the exact details of his dream, even if they send a bead of guilt dripping down his chest — they’d been in his office, just like this. She was between his legs, knees pressing into the carpet of the floor, her eyes rounded and expectant as he toyed with her, pretending to guide his cock between her lips only to take it away at the last minute. She pouted every time, a plushy lipped-frown punctuating the words he hadn’t even realized he’d been dying to hear: “Please Professor Styles, stop teasing me.”

At the realization, he’s sent into a frenzy. He doesn’t even think to check whether the door is locked (or maybe if he’s locked in the building, no less), before he’s clawing at his belt and zipper, yanking the fabrics down to reveal a pair of swollen balls. His length stands hard, his eyes nearly rolling back just from the feeling of looping his fingers around the base. He can’t remember the last time he was this pent up just from his own imagination, but it’s not a difficult place to return — not as his head leans back against his office chair, allowing his dream to pick up and take form in full consciousness.

So much pre-cum is bubbling at the tip that he doesn’t need much of his own spit to lubricate himself. He bites his lip hard to prevent himself from groaning out too loudly, envisioning the way she’d finally suckle around the tip of his cock, looking up at him with proud eyes. He’d gradually help her go deeper, but she’d be excited, willing to bruise her throat for him. She was so good — in his dreams, in real life, she was always so, so good.

“So good, Professor,” she’d pant out, popping off to lick a stripe up the side of his cock. With spit-swollen lips, she’d venture down to his balls, rolling them in the palm of her hands before taking each one into her mouth. In reality, he gasps at that, tugging them in his own hand.

But what really gets him there is an impossible thought — one that has nothing to do with the silly wet dream his brain conjured while he slept. Her in her own bedroom, her naked form wrapped up in her sheets while he gazed over lovingly, pressing soft kisses along her shoulder and down her arm. She’d giggle breathily before flipping onto her side to face him. And she’d say it — I love you — and it’d feel like heaven.

That’s what pushes him to finish all over his hand, cum dribbling over his fist as he pants and gasps like he’s just discovered masturbation. His orgasm encompasses his entire body, a few beautiful, peaceful moments of complete pleasure that causes all of his muscles to tighten deliciously. Of course, he envisions her taking all of his cum, licking it up eagerly over his digits, making a show of it — she’d open her mouth, pretty pink tongue out, and he’d watch as she swallows. He shudders at the thought of it, quickly snapping his eyes open and grabbing a tissue from the box on his desk to clean himself up. He’s immediately back to his grumbly state as he does, irritated that he allowed himself to lose control in such a finite way.

He tosses the dirty tissue in the garbage can and stands up to tug his briefs and pants back up. The clink of his belt buckle is the only sound throughout the small room, so he jumps when a knock sounds on the other side of his closed door.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, someone knows, I must have said her name, I’m such a fucking freak—

His eyes widen when the person speaks: “Profess— Harry? Are you in there? It’s Y/N.”

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