A Man With a Plan.6
prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7
Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU
CW: swearing, mostly fluff, funny moments with friends, no plot just vibes [crystal dialogue prompt courtesy of keke the unstablereader 🫶]
Though Remus was undoubtedly relieved that you a) knew of his affliction, and b) forgave him for his arseholery, he was admittedly a little more than slightly disappointed that very little had changed between the two of you.
Which made no sense on account of the fact that he never planned on anything changing between the two of you to begin with; he was discontent, nevertheless.
“Oh, good, Y/N’s here. Listen, how the hell do I stop the nargles from stealing my things?” James shouted as you approached the table. You looked like you had perhaps only been prepared to say hello and carry on, to which James was having none of it and nearly bodily forced you onto the bench next to him.
“Hello, Jamie. Do you have your cranberry seed oil infused corks?” You asked as you obediently took your seat.
James scoffed and pulled out a lanyard from under his uniform which, lo and behold, had a cork attached to it smelling very much like cranberry seed oil. “I literally never go anywhere without it.” He said as if you had asked a particularly ridiculous question.
You hummed and Remus watched a divot appear between your eyebrows as you scrutinized what Remus assumed was James’ aura or some other such entity. “Well, I don’t see any around you, James. What makes you think you have a nargle problem?”
James groaned dejectedly and turned back towards his lunch. “All of my things are missing! It started around the time you went missing.” James stressed, still not having completely forgiven you for your disappearance at the last full moon. “It was my school tie, and some socks, a quill set my mom got me at the start of school, and now I can’t find my herbology textbook!”
You hummed again and seemed to look around the table as if you’d somehow find his belongings there. “Perhaps you should ask your friend Peter.”
Remus heard Peter choke on his pumpkin juice as James, Sirius, and Remus all turned to look at him.
“Uh...haha, so, funny thing...” He started, cut off by an indignant squawk from James.
“You were stealing my stuff!? Why!?” He cried.
Peter’s cheeks pinked though a pleased smile graced his lips. “You were so worried about Y/N being missing and the nargles taking your things. I thought a funny prank would lighten the mood; I wouldn’t get a chance like that again!” He defended himself.
“You are so dead.” James muttered as Peter (wisely) took off out of the Great Hall with James hot on his heels.
“Alright Y/N.” Sirius started, throwing an arm over your shoulders. “You’ve gotta tell me; how’d you know it was Petey boy?”
A shy sort of pride painted your features and Remus thought it was the most beautiful you ever looked. “Wrackspurts.”
Sirius’ smile fell slightly, but the amusement never left his eyes. “Wrackspurts?”
You nodded in agreement. “Mhm. His head was full of them.” You said simply as you took a piece of cut strawberry from James’ abandoned plate and popped it in your mouth.
Sirius nodded with a look on his face that seemed to say ‘fair enough’. “And how’d you know about this one?” He asked, motioning towards Remus with his head.
“About his affliction, or about his soulmate bond?” You asked as if you were simply talking about the weather.
Sirius cocked his head as he considered you. “Both.”
“His aura...or I suppose Moony’s aura.”
Remus felt his eyebrows recede into his hair line. “Moony has an aura?” He asked you.
You nodded in the affirmative. “I’m assuming you’re right-handed?”
Remus nodded numbly.
“Most of the lunar cycle, Moony’s aura sits around your left shoulder. As the cycle moves closer to the full, he resides on your right. Also, sometimes when I’m near, he tries to come closer. Would you say that’s true?” Your serene tone did nothing to calm the racing of his heart.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Sirius said, interrupting Remus’ internal struggle. “There really was nothing you could do to hide from this witch, huh Moons?”
Remus chuckled self-deprecatingly and looked down into his lap in a little bit of shame. Your smile never faltered, however.
Peter and James returned then; James with a self-satisfied grin on his face, and Peter with his hair, shirt collar, and tie in disarray.
“What’s so funny?” James asked as he sat beside you, smacking a platonic kiss to your cheek as he winked over at Lily from her spot further down the table, whose face turned a shade of red rivaling her hair at having been caught watching James.
“Remus and his last two braincells trying to keep Y/N away from him.” Sirius snickered. Remus kicked at him under the table which caused you to jump. He apparently had missed his mark and had kicked your shin by accident.
“Fuckin’ hells, dove. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Oh my gods...”
Sirius barked another laugh as Peter whispered a quiet ‘dove?’
“Oi! You really have lost your gobstones! Can’t believe Moony’s the dumbest one out of all of us now.” James said as he checked your shin for injury under the table.
“Remus isn’t dumb.” You defended the dumb bastard.
“Well, you can’t say he’s very smart here, dollface.” Sirius conceded.
You hummed and shooed James away from your leg. “Wisdom was chasing him; Remus was just always faster.”
This time, poor Pete lost his pumpkin juice completely as he sputtered mid-sip. You didn’t even seem to realize you’d said something particularly funny (or devastating) as James nearly fell off the bench in a fit of laughter and Sirius pulled you into his side.
“Oh, for the love of Merlin. Remus, please, can we keep her!?” He said in between bouts of laughter, wiping away a mirthful tear from under his eye.
Remus had no objections.
What Remus hadn’t agreed to was this.
Remus understood that allowing Moony (and...himself) to keep you around meant that he would ultimately have to share you. He knew that he’d have to share you with James, he’d have to (rather unfortunately) share you with Regulus, he’d have to share you with Pete and Sirius who seemed just as enamored with you, and he’d likely eventually have to share you with Lily, Marlene, Mary, and the rest of his friend group.
He was however not in the slightest prepared to have to share you with the likes of Barty Crouch Junior.
Remus had, quite happily, found you studying in the library alone and asked politely if he could join you at your table. The two of you had been studying in companionable silence when Regulus showed up. No matter, Regulus was quiet and diligent in his schoolwork.
Then, Sirius had shown up perturbed that his baby brother and his best mate were hanging out (to which both Regulus and Remus vehemently denied, seeing as they were both here studying with you, not each other), and insisted he be involved. Though Sirius struggled with the whole sitting-still-and-quietly thing, he more or less managed to join the three of you without much fuss.
But then James showed up, which sparked a long and arduous debate between he and Regulus regarding which entity was worse – wrackspurts or nargles – to which you weren’t even a part of save for each of them calling to you in need of an explanation every so often. You would look up from your book and answer them politely before returning to your schoolwork as if you weren’t surrounded by complete idiots.
Remus was lovestruck.
And then Barty showed up.
“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” Crouch screeched as he ran through the library completely ignoring the shushing from other students and string of curse words following him from the crotchety librarian.
“Hello, Bartemus.” You greeted the banshee serenely.
“Quickly, darling.” He started before promptly dumping a large sack of tumbled rocks and gems in front of you.
“Where’d you get all of these?” Regulus asked incredulously, reaching to pluck a small stone that had rolled over to his open book.
“Never you mind that!” Barty shouted as he swatted his hand away. “Y/N - light of my life, apple of my eye - which of these crystals will help me piss of my dad the most?!”
Once again appearing completely unperturbed by the general chaos around you, you perused the crystals set before you.
“Well, Carnelian can invoke passion.” You said as you plucked a red stone from the pile. “Garnet can invoke intense emotions: jealousy, anger, fear. I recommend pairing it with gold – maybe place it in a gold setting for a necklace or something similar. Dravite will bring up unresolved emotions...” And soon, two red stones and a brown stone sat in your palm as you held them before Barty.
“Pfft, figures.” Barty grumbled. “Red and gold never fail to piss me off either.” He sneered, looking pointedly at the three Gryffindor’s seated at your table. Remus was not necessarily proud of the low growl that the comment elicited from him, but he was proud of the restraint he showed when Moony was screaming in his head to tear the fuckers head clean off his scrawny body.
“Bartemus.” You chided gently, looking up at Barty standing above you like a parent might look at a particularly troublesome child: full of love.
Remus hated it.
“Sorry my sweets.” Barty cooed at you and ran a finger along your cheekbone.
Remus hated that more.
“Mr. Crouch!” The librarian called, finally having caught up to her problem student.
“Well, I must be off.” Barty called casually as if it was completely of his own volition that he now vacate the premises. “Keep the rest, beautiful angel face. Much love!”
And he was gone.
Thank Merlin.
“The friends you keep.” James muttered as he shook his head in disappointment as if he wasn’t one of said friends you keep.
“Oh, Bartemus is not so bad. Perhaps just a little misunderstood, and a little more than maniacal.” You put simply.
James was shushed loudly by the librarian for his laughter.
“I’ll go check on him.” Regulus said as he stood. He barely spared the Gryffindors a glance as he nodded politely at you. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”
“Goodbye Regulus.” You sang to him, smiling brightly like he had just been anything more than sort of polite to you.
Remus once again figured that was as much affection as Regulus could ever show.
“You boys are welcome to help yourselves to the crystals. It’s a wonderful idea to take the ones that speak most to you.”
James exclaimed gleefully as he started to browse the many stones in front of you. Sirius’ face piqued in interest as he quickly plucked the most sparkly stone on the table.
“Jamie, you should bring this one to Lily.” You said as you handed him a small, slightly translucent pink stone. James didn’t bother asking questions such as ‘why?’ or ‘what is it?’ or even ‘should I be worried?’ before he accepted it, punctuating his ‘thanks angel’ with a kiss to your hair before he was racing out of the library.
“What stone was that?” Remus asked, unable to quell his curiosity.
“Rose quartz.” You responded simply.
“What’s it do?” Sirius asked.
Your mouth quirked in thought. “Stones don’t really do anything. They just encourage what’s already possible.”
Sirius rolled his eyes earning him a defensive kick in the shin from Remus.
“What does rose quartz encourage, dove?” Remus placated.
“Love and affection.”
Remus nodded and watched as Sirius pocketed two more shiny and sparkly stones before his expression was painted with mischief. “Say, Y/N. What crystals should our dear Moony here have?”
Remus couldn’t even bother shooting his mate an unimpressed glare when your face picked up excitedly and you began sifting through the stones. He watched just as animatedly.
After a few moments, you proudly displayed a small palmful of stones.
Remus placed his hand palm up beside your much smaller one and relished in the intimacy of you gently transferring the stones into his palm; your hands gently brushing in the action.
“What are those stones?” Sirius asked curiously.
Remus swore some bashfulness painted your features as you pointed the stones out in Remus’ palm. He was thankful for the continued contact as you explained them all.
“This is amethyst, which supports calmness; rids the mind of negative thoughts, and promotes dreamless and restful sleep.” You explained, causing Remus to nod his head. That could be helpful.“This is obsidian which helps one process their emotions.” That one earned a snort of laughter from Sirius. “Jasper is supposed to provide support during stressful times. This is moonstone which...well...I suppose that’s self-explanatory.”
Remus hummed but couldn’t help but notice you failed to discuss the last stone sitting in his palm. He wasn’t going to push it, however.
“And the pink one?” Sirius asked sharing no such qualms, lips quirked in a smirk and eyes full of mirth.
You cleared your throat awkwardly, clearly feeling slightly self-conscious, but explained it nonetheless. “Rose quartz to encourage love and trust.”
Remus would usually consider himself a generally skeptical person: but you may have just converted him.
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welcome to the final show | H.S, part 4
my masterlist!
summary: suddenly it’s not just you and harry anymore, and not only do the general media want an explanation, but so do your friends and family. however, the two of you are only just figuring things out yourselves.
warnings: paparazzi, anxiety surrounding leaked images, fluff, comforting, confessions, make out session, sexual content!
a/n: no because i am so thrilled for you all to read this. these two are so much fun to write about. I hope you enjoy <3
(I was on the fence about including smut, but I decided i wanted to! if that’s not something you want to read, a little warning will come up when it’s about to begin. plot wise you won’t miss anything if you choose not to read it!)
———
There’s a certain type of love that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.
And it’s an all consuming kind. One that when you think about it you feel it to the bone.
And oh, had you done a lot of thinking. Overthinking was pretty much all you’ve been doing the past two weeks.
You obviously are attracted to Harry. Physically, emotionally… just in every sense of the word. That’s nothing new for you. And even throughout the points of denial since forming a personal relationship with him. It’s the truth.
You’ve probably gaslit yourself out of it more times then you could count. However picture evidence of you holding hands with him in the homely streets of Italy is kind of a slap to the face.
And despite how cute you think the photos may be, you are still inexplicably panicked about them.
It’s the morning after the photos got posted. And you are genuinely still in shock. You struggled to fall asleep last night after the images first came out— your brain in complete overdrive for god knows how long until you fell asleep.
And this morning you’re ignoring the influx of messages and calls you’re getting from family, friends, and people you’ve met through love on tour.
Several texts from your own sister coming through half an hour ago. All of them including the word ‘fuck’. Shes definitely mad you didn’t tell her this had happened.
Either way, you’re left pacing the length of your hotel room. Heart still near racing in your chest as you try to figure out what to do, and how to handle something like this.
You held hands with him, you remind yourself. You didn’t get caught making out with him… the act for you came across as still something bordering platonic— even though you wished it were anything but that. This could eventually blow over.
You sigh out, leaning against the wall of your hotel, this was considerably more simple when the rest of the population had no idea it was happening.
Now they do, and they have a lot of questions. Plus, it makes it significantly harder when it’s about things you don’t even have answers to.
Harry hadn’t messaged you since everything had happened. If he even knows is beyond you.
But it felt wrong talking to anyone about it without talking to him first.
You felt a sense of guilt. Because this easily will stir up drama for him. Stuff like this spreads so fast, and you’ve seen it happen 100 times. But now you’re no longer in the back seat just watching it unfold. There will be articles, posts, even snippets in the newspapers about it. And whether or not it’s something he’s accustomed to, you still feel at fault. Like you could’ve been more careful, more considerate.
You move to sit on the edge of your unmade bed, staring at your phone that you’ve left on the bench top. How do you even approach it? What do you say to him?
You quickly decide you don’t really want to, at the moment. There is too much going through your head, and you’re still a bit freaked out about it all.
So another anxiety shower is. Which for right now, is your best and favourite option.
Standing up, you head to the bathroom, leaving your phone out in the room, allowing it to continue buzzing while you decide it’s time for some hardcore self-care to calm yourself down.
On the other side of things, Harry is also freaking out. He woke up to texts from a couple people, asking about a headline?
And for people he knows personally to be reaching out about trashy posts on the media, it’s almost always a bad sign.
One being from James, who has been off ‘The Late Late Show’ too long for him to withhold himself from making bad jokes when they present themselves.
Are they even allowed to put that many exclamation marks in the title? Overkill if you ask me. 😪😪
But when he reads the link and sees the image of himself with you, his anxiety immediately shifts from being personal.
[ 1 attachment link] : Styles Has Found His Next Musical Muse, But She’s Actually a ‘Hardcore Fangirl!!!’”
He’s almost positive you will have seen the leaked images. There is no way you would have missed this unless you were still sleeping.
Guilt nearly slaps him in the face. You do not deserve this. He already knows that you’re probably being slammed on Twitter and in comments of these pathetic articles.
And that is never nice. He hates it enough when it’s himself, and that’s after a decade of learning how to deal with it.
His concern for you leads to a text, one he doesn’t want to make, but does anyway. Purely for the fact he needs to know you’re alright.
Because the worst thing that could happen is you having some kind of anxiety attack after reading something online, and not having anyone there to be with you to talk you down. Regardless of how confident you can appear to him, he’s not taking the chance.
Hi love, can you please let me know you’re alright?
He sends it through, and then he typed out another one after it’s been about five long minutes without a reply.
I am very possibly overreacting right now, but do you need me to come over?
Another ten minutes go by,
I’ll be over in about 15. x
He is aware this may be over the top. You could be asleep. You could be just processing what’s happened— since he still remembers the first time things like this happened to him. And it’s a really weird experience.
But he is undeniably protective of you. That is one thing he can’t lie about.
And even more-so, he’s terrified this will scare you off. Because if it’s too much for you, he has no clue how he’d deal with it. Since it’s way too far out of his hands now.
Even though he knew well that this was a easily plausible situation. And it’s almost surprising how long they’ve gone without it happening earlier.
In his own time, he’s been overthinking plenty too. Wondering if it’s normal to want to lay your entire life down for someone two weeks after meeting them.
Maybe if he were 16… but pushing 30… it might be a bit harder to justify.
But somehow, despite knowing how stupid he probably seems, he leaves his bedroom after throwing on some shorts and a tshirt. Going out and grabbing the keys for his car from the kitchen.
Gemma is out there cooking toast, and she turns around to see him near running out the door.
“Harry!” She says, and when he stops to give her a quick greeting she interrupts him.
“Don’t worry so much.” She sighs.
Immediately confused, he frowns, frozen in place, “what…?”
“I’m assuming that this Y/N you’ve been on about really likes you too, okay? There’s no way she doesn’t. So just treat it like any other relationship or friendship you have. No matter the circumstances you met under. If you like her, you like her. Don’t let shit from the media get to either of you.”
Her advice comes just when he needs it, as it always does. And even though he acts like she doesn’t, she knows almost everything there is to know.
A small nod, “Thank you Gem…”
She gives him a warm smile, one that’s always encouraged him.
———
You hear the knock on the door while you’re standing in the bathroom, finishing applying a face mask. Stood clad in your shorts and black boob tube.
And after finally calming down a bit, it gives you another wave of panic. Since after waiting a few moments, the rapping on the door continues. You were hoping they would just go away, whoever it was.
You quietly leave your bathroom, going down the short hallway to look through the peephole in the door.
You don’t even get your eye up to it before you hear the all too familiar voice on the other side.
“Y/N, it’s Harry…” He was a bit muffled, but you didn’t even think as you start unlatching the locks on the door.
The look of relief on his face when you finally peek out is almost palpable.
“Hi…” you say quietly, pulling the door open further, letting him come in quickly.
He has two cups in his hands, and once he’s inside your room, he is fast to place them on the nearest free space.
“What are you—“ you don’t get through the sentence before he breaches the distance between you, tugging you into a hug, uncaring of the face mask residue getting on his shirt.
He squeezes you, “‘M so glad y’alright.”
You take a deep breath. So, he knows.
You feel immediately bad for not letting him know earlier, before he felt the need to come over.
“Did you call me? I’m so sorry, i was in the—”
“I texted you couple times— don’t be sorry. I don’t want it to seem weird I came rushing over… i was jus’ worried about you.”
You slowly draw back, “I was going to text you, I just didn’t want to… i didn’t know how to go about it, i guess?”
He pulls away, “I am so fuckin’ sorry this happened.”
“Why are you apologising? I should be…”
“Why should you apologise? You of all people do not deserve to be dissected by people in the media. Ive dragged you into something you didn’t deserve to be dragged into.” He says, sounding exasperated.
“You aren’t at fault for any of this, H. I feel like I’ve stirred up unnecessary drama up for you…” To this he immediately shakes his head.
“You haven’t. I was just worried about how you’d perceive it all… and fuck— i didn’t want it to scare you off.”
You both seem to realise that you were freaking out over each other. Starting to laugh together, realising how stupid you both probably sound.
“Okay… we sound really silly.” You sigh, moving to grab the cup he’d placed down prior to your very quick debrief.
“But seriously, Harry,” you lead him over to sit down on the edge of your bed with you, “I am still sorry. I feel like I’ve caused unnecessary… assumptions.”
He frowns a little, “assumptions?”
“About us. You know…” you shrug, eyes avoiding him, doing a terrible job at acting nonchalant.
“That we’re together? That what you’re so shy about, hm?” He teases, and you physically cannot handle the way he says it.
“I— well— Yes, sure that’s what I was going for.”
You gently scratch at the dried edges of your clay face mask, and he watches quietly, wishing he could see the blush that’s risen on your cheeks underneath it.
“Why were you showering so early— It’s like midday, I thought you said you showered in the evening?” He asks, out of the blue, causing you to frown.
Your answer comes out unsurely, “I have anxiety showers sometimes. It calms me down.”
He cocks his eyebrow, “Is that why you were literally dripping wet when i came over the other day?”
He pins you with his gaze, and you don’t reply for a few seconds. You were hoping he broke the silence himself, but it was clear he was waiting for a response.
You blurt out, “You make me nervous!”
To this he laughs, “I make you nervous?”
“Not… all the time.” You amend, “Just sometimes.”
You remove yourself before he can ask more questions, and you go to wash off the face mask in the bathroom, while he’s still stifling his laughter.
You emerge after washing it off with cold water, and his eyes follow your every step as you go to sit back down.
“Yknow, Y/N, if I didn’t know any better I’d—“
He’s cut off by a bang on the front door.
You were only scared for a second, until you heard a shrill feminine shout from outside it. One you know to be your best friends classic angry voice.
You were relieved for only about another second before you realised, she will probably break that door down if you don’t let her in.
Oh god.
“Y/N Y/L/N. LET. ME. IN!” You can picture her angry little face. And you’re almost a bit terrified of her.
But you have to hide Harry. Like you have to actually hide him.
“Harry— you— fuck, get up—” You whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible, grabbing his wrist.
“What is happening?” He sounds awfully confused as you manhandle him around the hotel room, trying to find an adequate place to hide a 6 foot tall man from your fired up best friend.
“She may kill you— she loves you— but she’s very mad at me right now, because I didn’t tell her about,” you pause as you try to label again whatever the two of you were, “us… this… whatever you want to deem it.”
You realise the cupboard is about the only reasonable place, unless you make him climb down the balcony.
“Are you—“
“Y/N! i already KNOW you’re in there!” She calls from the door again.
You tug the door of it open, “Get in!”
You half push him inside it, “I’m so sorry, but just, just sh okay??”
He nods hastily, and you quite literally shut him in there.
“I’m coming!” You shove the takeaway cups into a kitchen cupboard and rush to the door.
Letting her in, she practically storms past you. And you pray to god you can get rid of her in a short period of time.
“I’m sorry!” You say to her, grabbing her hands.
“How could you not tell me something like that?!” She barks, shaking your arms like an angry child.
You do feel bad, because you would also be pissed if it were the other way around.
You try to explain, clutching her warm palms tighter, “To respect his privacy! I wanted to, so, so badly but I just… I didn’t want it getting out.”
She groans, pulling you in for a tight, yet still frustrated hug.
“But you know I wouldn’t have told anyone!”
“I do, i know. I’m sorry.” You embrace her, “but every time we were together there were other people… and I just hadn’t figured out how, let alone talked to him about it.”
She calms down a tiny bit, and sometimes the best way to describe her is like a miniature tornado. Her anger is very quick to bubble over and turn her into this fired up, yelling ball of energy. Yet it dissipates shortly after she lets it all out.
“Okay, well I get that, of course. But… wait are you two actually— have you slept with him?” You pull back from the hug and give her a shocked stare. Her ask stuns you for a moment.
You’re hyperaware that he is listening to this conversation.
What is he thinking right now— you can’t help but wonder. And you have to physically force yourself to push the thoughts that come with such a question aside.
“I— why would you ask me that!” You hiss at her, sounding guilty, even though you’re just throughly embarrassed.
“Because he's Harry Styles!” She exclaims, “who happens to be a very gorgeous man, and I would not be surprised if you wanted— I don't know— in his pants?”
“We are just friends!” You drag your hand down your face. Internally pleading that she stops saying embarrassing shit.
“Whatever you little liar. Acting like as if you haven't said on multiple occasions just how bad you wan—“
“OKAY!” You interrupt, trying to keep the frantic tone out of your voice, “I get it. I really do, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But look, I have so many people I have to call and— i think my whole family also want me dead— so can we maybe get a coffee tomorrow? Talk it over, and you can ask all the questions you want.”
At your proposal, she seems to realise you mean it. And despite the confused look on her face at the fact you’re kicking her out to call what is basically her own adopted family, it seems she understands.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna seem pushy. I was… just also in shock. Tomorrow at 10?” She smiles.
You start both walking over to the door, “that’s perfect.”
Tugging her into another hug, she huffs out an ‘I love you.’
You laugh and give her a chaste peck on the side of her head, “I love you too. I promise I wanted to tell you on my end. I just didn’t want to fuck anything up…”
She nods, pulling back, “I know. And if you need anything, or anyone before I see you tomorrow, don’t forget I’m only a few floors up.”
“I won’t.” You open the door for her, and bid a final goodbye. And once it’s shut, you realise how badly you want the ground beneath your feet to literally swallow you whole.
Despite the embarrassment, you quickly rush over to let Harry out of the cupboard you’d shoved him in.
And as he steps out, adorning a smirk and clearly stifling a laugh, you apologise profusely.
“God— I am so incredibly sorry.”
A proper abashed grin spreads across his face, one that flashes his dimples. Reminding you of the sign you took to the last show, telling him how pretty you thought his smile was. You still think the same.
“Kind of exciting hiding in a cupboard. I never even did it as a teenager.” He chuckles, brushing a few stray curls from his eyes.
“Do I look a little more youthful? As gorgeous as ever?” He teases.
“I am so sorry you had to hear all of that, she has a… she lacks a filter.” You excuse, cheeks flaming as you try to dig yourself out of the hole your best friend has unwittingly buried you in.
“That's okay love, but I am a little curious…”
You frown at his careful words.
He takes a step closer as he continues, “what so badly did you want to do to me that you told all your friends about?”
At this, you completely turn your face away from his green-eyed stare. Because you cannot trust yourself.
He doesn’t realise the dangerous game he’s playing with you right now. Especially while he’s standing in-front of you like this. Tattooed arms out, beautiful face and jawline on display.
“Y/N, darling. I asked a question.” His voice has turned to honey. He’s talking you in a way he never has before. With a tone that is almost demanding an answer, laced with a undertone of seduction.
“Stop it.” You hiss, flicking his solid chest with your hand.
He steps forward, and you step back in response. He backs you up all the way to the edge of your bed.
“Stop being a flirt.” You scoff, finally holding eye contact for more than a second.
His pupils have blown out a little, and the stare he’s giving you is something you want burned into the underside of your eyelids.
“Why? Is it working.” He chuckles, demeanour softening a tiny bit as his hand slides down your arm.
You don’t reply.
“Please tell me, Y/N. I want to know. Y’know I’m nosey.”
“Resorted to begging, I see.” You snort, heart still hammering behind your rib cage.
“If it works, I can do plenty of it.” He playfully remarks.
You try to not reply again, but you’re met with a silence. Somehow he knows you’re going to fill it with a fumbled half-confession.
“I don’t even really remember. I was probably tipsy on some wine. Said some stuff to… the girls. After a show.”
“After a show?” He smirks, “Which one?”
“Barcelona. And maybe back at… another. One or two others.”
“But that’s all I’m saying!” You interject, hoping he takes that as enough of an answer.
He laughs at your attempted defiance.
“Anyways, what even— what are you getting at here?” You ask, because truly, his flirting is heavily confusing you. In every way possible.
“Remember when you told me I had a the prettiest smile?” He lightly grazes your hip with his warm hand.
“I— yes. That was like, 2 weeks ago. What’s your point?” You are biting at your bottom lip.
“Don’t get feisty.” He coos, “Everytime I smile around you, I think of that. And then, I wonder what other things you think about me. What other parts you see of me and consider as pretty.”
“And, can you blame a man for wanting to know what dirty things you’ve said about him to y’friends?”
Jesus Christ. A part of you melts at his words. He is watching you like a hawk, gauging your every little reaction. But you’re clinging to any part of you that’s trying to keep this from heading in that direction. Even though you know it’s not because you don’t want to.
“We really shouldn’t… H.” You state, voice almost shaking with an unspoken need. One that you’re trying to keep from bursting through the seams.
“Why not, Y/N?” He asks, making it sound like a challenge. Causing him to be met with a quick jump in your voice.
You are pulling at every part of your strength right now to justify why this is a terrible idea.
“Because, Harry. I am a fucking fangirl for you. Not in a casual way either, like bordering a little bit insane! It’s horrifying, and very embarrassing! And this is a horrible idea, because I don’t think you understand the kind of—“ You don’t get to finish whatever you were about to say, because he kisses you. With his all.
It feels like he pours every once of his being into it. The way his smooth lips press into your own, fuelled by a heat that is felt in the very pit of your stomach. Your knees almost buckle at the sensation.
You grab his shoulder to stabilise yourself. And your lungs are already drawn of all their air.
In actuality, it mustn’t have lasted very long— maybe a couple seconds— before he pushes the back of your knees against the bed, forcing you to sit down.
He draws in a breath after you seperate, “I don’t care if you have photos of me on your fucking bedroom walls, baby.”
“Could not care less, look at you.” He leans down now, kissing over your lips again in separate, doting pecks, “y’so gorgeous, and genuine. I love that you love what I do.”
You’re in a bit of shock, looking up at him with widened eyes. Because obviously you’ve imagined kissing him before. Probably a thousand times. And that dream has somehow sprung to fruition.
How exactly? you’re still unsure.
“I— Harry.” You say, with no real purpose, clutching onto his broad shoulders.
The way you whine out his name drives him almost insane, and he drops down onto his knees between your spread legs. Giving him easier access to kiss your mouth.
His hands snake around your waist, and he lets his lips slot back over yours.
You loose yourself in the act, your own fingers skating up his back and into the hair at the nape of his neck.
It’s so fucking soft. And you use it to press his face closer to yours. He’s surprised when you’re the one to part your lips and dart your tongue out first.
Skating along his pink bottom lip as an invitation.
He accepts it happily, clutching at your waist while he lets his tongue dip into the heat of your mouth. You can’t help but groan at the sensation, and feel the warmth start to gather between your thighs.
He was kissing you like a starved man. And slowly everything you knew started slipping from the forefront of you mind. All you could feel and focus on was him.
How his muscly frame filled up your senses—and the area between your knees— paired with the glide of his tongue over your teeth.
—((sexual content from here and onwards))
His hands tracing over several parts of your body, even going to pull you closer with his hands cupping your bottom. Squeezing at the swell of your ass playfully.
You bite your teeth down onto his lip and drag it backwards, eliciting a moan from the back of his throat.
Your hips push forward, brushing the front of your shorts on his torso, causing his jaw to go lax.
The two of you seperate for air, panting, and his eyes veer south, looking at where you’re pressed against him.
“Fuckin’ Christ. Look at you, needy little thing.”
You bury your head into his neck, kissing along his sharp jawline. Unable to control your slowly circling hips.
“So, y’willing to share what it is you wanted to do to me yet? Given that you’re practically grinding on m’chest.”
You hum a maybe, and he lets out a deep laugh.
“After Barcelona,” You start, and he works to coax the answer out of you with his hands and lips.
“Mmhm…” he acknowledges, mouthing against your clavicle.
“You had looked so good that night… and I got a little tipsy after the show, back at our BNB.”
“You were in those low rise black pants, and that tiny cropped vest. And my god— i said to all the girls that if you were down, I would happily let you take me. Anyway you wanted.”
“Anyway?” His hoarse voice asks.
“Anyway. Fingers, tongue... cock.”
At the first mention of something genuinely sexual, he almost looses it. Envisioning your spread legs with his head pressed between them.
“But I didn’t just say that because I was tipsy. Or because of the outfit you wore.” You allude quietly.
He can’t wait another second before he’s pressing his already swollen lips back against yours. And hard.
“Want everything off you.” He fists at your boob-tube.
Your body is hotter than a thousand suns, and your need for him is literally tearing through you.
It’s clear this was your tipping point. There was no going back to something casual and platonic. The way your whole body ached to have him was unfathomable.
“Strip me.” You beg, arms lifting so he can tug the thin black material over your head, leaving your breasts in a strapless bra.
He runs his tongue over the exposed skin, hands sliding to the clasp at your back to get it off you.
He moans aloud once he sees you, briefly recalling the times his gaze has dipped to your cleavage in those little sundresses you wore while you were out together, and how he would always be wishing for a moment like this.
He laves his tongue over your nipple, before quickly occupying himself with the button of your shorts.
“These off too?” He confirms, voice gravelly with want.
Hastily, you nod, “Yes, all of it.”
Your sheer eagerness is turning him on even more. You always seemed a tiny bit reserved, so hearing you beg for your clothes to get torn off…
“Ass up,” he asks, watching as you lift it from the bed so he can tug the shorts from your waist and down your legs.
Left in nothing but your underwear, he slides his hand over your front to see how wet you were.
You moan as his fingers brush over your clothed-clit. And you notice now that your arousal has wet through your panties.
“Fucking hell. You realise you’re absolutely drenched, right baby?” He near moans, rubbing a gentle circle over the fabric.
“I—shit— I’m sorry, didn’t think I’d gotten so…” You’re almost a little embarrassed at the amount of arousal between your legs.
He hooks his fingers into the crotch of your underwear, peeling them down your thighs.
Your bare cunt had him almost light headed. You were genuinely glistening, and your slick had already spread to the hood of your clit.
“Darling don’t be sorry. Y’got the prettiest little pussy. Cant believe you’re this wet.”
“What did it for you, huh?” He asks finger running through you, eliciting a groan from both your throats.
In a pleasure-filled haze, you slur out a reply, “You. Just all of you.”
You squirm under his featherlight caress, and take a moment to watch him gaze at you. There is nothing but this look of admiration and desire in his eyes.
“Wanna see you, Harry.” You plea, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
He waits not a second to slip it over his head, and your hands immediately run down his torso. Staying quiet as he lets you indulge.
This is something you have thought of in a million different ways. His chest is built like that of a Greek gods, and his tattoos are an added bonus.
You feel the ridges of his abs under your fingertips, and you trace over the butterfly tattoo as well.
His breath flutters in and out of his nose. But using your hands doesn’t satiate you.
You need him on your tongue.
“Stand up.” You ask, and he doesn’t question you, he just obliges.
You keep him stood between your bare legs, but lean your neck inwards, tongue jutting out to run a solid strip up his stomach.
A rumble comes from him, akin to a growl as you move to of his pecs. Gliding your tongue over the hair-dusted flesh, and enveloping his own nipple into your mouth.
You’d never done this before, since sucking on a guys nipple is less of a commodity… but the reaction it works out of him is perfect.
The way he throws his head back, sharp jaw tilted to the celling, and hair falling from his forehead.
“Oh… oh god.”
You draw back, grabbing his shorts and pushing them down. Kissing both the laurels that sit atop his hips before cupping your hand over his bulge, covered by black Calvin Klein briefs.
“Can I take you out, please?”
“Such nice manners, good girl.”
Good girl. The words float around in your head, and something else inside of you comes undone.
Not sure if it was your self respect… or some other part of your morals. But you could go feral simply over those two words.
You bite down on your lip as you tug the briefs down, watching his cock slip up.
Lord.
You almost salivate. It’s perfect in every way you’d want it to be. A flushed red tip, dotted with beads of pre-cum. And of course it’s big.
For an already perfect man, it’s hard to believe you can strip him completely, and still not find a single flaw.
“Staring pretty hard… you a little intimated?”
“It’s big.” You state, hand coming to wrap around its thick base. “Want it in me.”
He leans down, picking you up by your thighs. You laugh in reaction, him manhandling you into the centre of your still unmade bed.
There was a sense of intimacy that was being shared as he pulled you forward, so you were straddling his hips.
Both of you leaned forward to lock lips, kissing feverishly as you touched over every inch of skin you could. Eventually, both of your hands falling between the others legs.
You stroked over him, and he careful slid his middle finger into you.
He worked you until you were near dripping down his hand, and were scraping your nails along his shoulders.
“Harry— need you…” you beg.
“Want me to take you right now?” He asks, cock throbbing in your hand.
“Yes. I can handle it. Promise. I’m clean and on birth control if you wanna go bare.”
“Only if you’re sure. I trust you.”
“I am… just want to feel you.” You plead.
“Need you to tell me how y’want it first, pretty.” He coos, curling his finger inside you.
You moan in response, and he slides it out shortly after so he regains your attention.
“I—“ you stutter, now feeling empty, “anyway you want, I said that earlier.”
“No, baby, how do you like it?” He asks again, smiling against your skin.
“Anything, hard or gentle, I’ll come either way. Look at you— as if I wouldn’t.”
He pulls your core to his, rubbing the tip against your slick hole, “Then tell me as we go how you’re doing, and what you want or need okay. Want you to feel really good, m’kay?”
You nod, and he starts to sink into you, already pulling a moan from your lips at the stretch.
He on the other hand struggles to hold himself together as your warm walls part for him.
“Fuck, fuck… you’re so tight, Y/N.” He groans, pulling you down nearly all the way— stopping before he reaches the base of his cock, taking a moment to adjust so he doesn’t come before he’s all the way in.
“Mm-“ you whine out, nails digging into the warm muscle on his back, “Harry…”
Once he’s composed himself, he lets your hips sink the down to the base of him. You both take a moment to feel it. Panting, because the heat and the connection you’re both sharing is only describable as euphoric.
“Y’okay?” He sighs out, clutching your waist with firm hands.
“Yes… so fuckin’ full.” You moan out, hole fluttering around his length.
He carefully draws his hips back, pulling out a little only to push it back in.
Just that small movement has you reeling. And you’re quick to realise that this is probably going to be the best sex you’ve ever fucking had.
“Look at that, your cunt swallowing me up. So fuckin’ hot.” He whispers, slowly starting to pick up the pace.
His fingers move to play with your clit, and he notices the reaction that courses through your body the second he rolls it between his fingers.
You buck your hips against him, and he brings his lips down to suck on the side of your breast.
“Mark me.” You encourage, wanting him to leave you with bruises from his mouth.
“Dirty thing,” he moans, fucking up into you, “so fucking wet too. All f’me isn’t it?”
The dirty talk causes you to clench around him, and he picks up on it.
“Jesus, you really are? Like when I say dirty stuff too, clearly.” He grunts.
“Yes, fuck! Please touch me.” You ask, needing to feel more of him, to the point it consumes your senses.
He touches you almost everywhere, with his hands, lips, tongue. All over your body until you genuinely can’t think of anything else.
It leaves your body shaking, and he can tell you’re not going to last much longer going by the clenching of your cunt.
“I’m gonna come if you keep squeezing around me like tha’.” He curses, keeping a fast pace with his hips as you feel the beginning of your high approaching.
It starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, “God— you’re so deep.”
“Yea, love? Feel me all the way up here?” He splayed his hand on your lower abdomen and you nod.
“Gonna come soon… please.” Your thighs are going weak from trying to hold your body up, and he notices, flipping you around so he’s on top of you.
The new angle has you biting down on your palm to try and stop yourself from crying out.
“Taking it so well. M’not far off either, baby.” He groans, his thrusts faltering as he bottoms out.
He pushes two fingers past your lips, allowing your tongue to swirl over them before he is removing them. Taking them down to rub over your swollen clit.
The added stimulation is what’s going to tip you over the edge.
“H—fuck—Harry! I’m gonna come!” You moan out, nails scraping down his bicep.
“Good fucking girl,” he prompts, fingers flicking over your clit, “let it all go for me, gush all over my cock.”
His words send you spiralling. And they’re the final push you need before your cunt clamps down around him with a loud moan tearing out of you.
“Fuckfuckfuck!” You’re writhing around him, and he curses at how tight you’re clenching him.
“That’s it, keep fucking going— ride it out on me.” He hisses, hips finally faltering as he feels his cock come inside of you.
Twitching between your warm walls as his stomach muscles contract and ripple with the intensity of his release.
He near buckles on top of you, his body weight pressing against you. And The two of you are panting, still shivering out slight aftershocks of your orgasms.
His forehead rests against yours, and you lean forward to brush a kiss against his parted lips.
Gently, he pulls himself out. A tiny hiss coming from his lips at the sensitivity.
He rolls over, bringing you to lay down on top of him. And you feel the partial heaving of his damp chest below you.
“Thank you…” You mumble out, sounding almost shy.
He picks up on it, “Don’t sound so nervous, darling. Y’were amazing.”
This brings a smile across your lips. It’s safe to assume that maybe things around you are complicated. But actually between the two of you, it’s anything but.
You like him, so much. So you just say it.
“I like you, Harry.”
And he affirms your statement with a kiss to your temple, and says quietly, “I like you too, Y/N. A lot.”
And this feels like an unspoken agreement that maybe the media is only going to get more riled up about the two of you as time goes on, but what you have is something genuinely worth fighting for.
Plus… they already know so, what’s the worse that could really happen now?
———
that was a long one!! hope you all loved it, and thank you so much for the support on this series. and don’t worry, you will definitely still be seeing more of them in the future. 🤍
taglist:
@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18 @laurxn-robinson @kkr102 @superlegend216 @jerseygirlinca @cherrysulewski
+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love
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