#did not confirm my priors about four star officers. which is always embarrassing.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The More Loving One

Masterlist

Summary: Professor Reid finds himself falling for a student. 

A/N: This fic is based on this request. I changed a few things up, but I hope you like the finished product!

Long time, no see! It seems like forever since I got to sit down and just enjoy writing something. And enjoy this, I did. I approached this one a bit differently than I usually do, but I like how it turned out none the less. I hope you all enjoy my take on the Professor Reid arc. The first poem I use in this fic is titled The More Loving One by W.H. Auden, and the second is from a collection of Perry poetry.

Also, I recently hit 2k followers, which is absolutely unbelievable. I can’t even begin to explain how thankful I am for each and every one of you. This fic is my love letter to you. Thank you all so much. 

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: a few swear words maybe?, teacher x student relationship, age gap, exhibitionism (sorta?), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4k

           For as long as Spencer can remember, he’s always had a predilection for the finer things in life.

           Spencer attributes the origin of his preferences to his upbringing. In his childhood, before his mother’s disease got the better of her, she exposed him to all sorts of literature. While he ventured to read all types of writings, he’d always been partial to tales of extravagance. A young Spencer Reid sought refuge in the profligacy of it all, as it was so starkly different from his own reality. Forced to bear the burden of household and a sick mother from an early age, Spencer’s own life left little room for reckless indulgence.

           Now, as a single adult male, Spencer makes it a point to give himself up to the finer things as often as he can. Spencer isn’t a rich man, nor is he careless with what hard-earned money he does have. He simply likes to treat himself to the occasional five-star meal, and even more frequently, posh clothing and rare books. Walls lined with hundreds of antiquarian novels and a closet full of Comme Des Garçon cardigans are where the indulgence ends, however, and until recently Spencer was content with this.

           But when she strolls into his life on the very first day of his teaching career, Spencer knows that his small luxuries will no longer be enough to keep him satisfied. The part of him that longs to have only the very best roars to life as he takes in every perfect inch of her. She stands before him, the embodiment of divinity and grace, looking like every fantasy he only dares to conjure up in the late hours of the night. A litany of cliches from every piece of romantic literature he’s ever read spring to the forefront of his mind in the instant that her eyes met his, but there is nothing stereotypical about the way her gaze banishes the air from his lungs. It is as jarring as it is intoxicating. He never wants to look away.

           Unfortunately, she doesn’t feel the same. With a light flush of her cheeks, she turns away from him, and in an equally unfortunate turn of events, she proceeds to shuffle down the aisle and into the second row of seats to the right of the podium. The realization that washes over him feels like ice water in his veins.

           She’s a student. Worse even – she’s his student.

           Spencer wrenches his gaze from her as if he’s been burned, and the fiery shame of his embarrassment makes him tug at his collar. As he struggles to stave away the lingering heat in his chest and even more embarrassingly, the tightness in his trousers, Spencer chastises himself. His own carnal urges often go ignored, a fact that is glaringly obvious as he cowers behind his podium in an attempt to hide his arousal. He feels more than a little bit pathetic. No self-respecting thirty-five-year-old man gets hard just from gazing upon a beautiful young woman.

           When Spencer pulls himself together enough to start his lecture, he positively forbids himself to look her way. It is hard to fight the urge, but every time he catches his eyes wandering to her, he reminds himself that she is an indulgence he simply cannot partake in. No matter how badly he wants to.

--

           It doesn’t take long for her to notice him noticing her.

           In the early days of the semester, she manages to convince herself that the stolen glances are but a figment of her overactive imagination. That, or an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking. But as the semester stretches on and the professor’s eyes linger more and more, wishful thinking gives way to a startling realization that she isn’t alone in her attraction. Professor Reid is, to her complete and utter astonishment, just as taken with her as she is with him.

           This is all but confirmed when a slight brushing of the hands during an exchange of papers leaves them both with flushed cheeks and pounding hearts. Both of their heads snap up, two sets of eyes meeting in a prolonged stare that results in an understanding of sorts. It’s mutual, this thing blossoming between them. She can see her own hopes reflected in two velvet pools of brown – can see the longing, the desire that burns within them. Her heart soars, as she imagines his does, and she accepts the papers with a smile.

           She also imagines that, if he could, he would tell her to wait for him. He would tell her that, for now, their relationship must stay strictly professional.

           This doesn’t stop them from sating their cravings in other ways.

           She makes it a point to stop by during office hours at least twice a week. Her visits always fall under the guise of her studies, but within minutes their hushed conversations stray from the professional and towards a more personal nature. She learns of Spencer’s mother and her condition, of his unusual job and his coworkers that were more like family. In return, she tells him about her upbringing in southern California, as well as her dreams of becoming a criminal psychologist. They never go as far as to discuss what will happen when the semester comes to a close. It is an unspoken agreement that the end of the semester will find them in each other’s arms. All they have to do is wait.

           Spencer can’t voice his affections with words, but he more than makes up for this with his actions. Without fail, every Monday following the very first clandestine brushing of hands, lavish bouquets of flowers arrive at her workplace. Each bouquet is always paired with a notecard inscribed with a brief explanation of the meaning behind that week’s flower of choice. Cherry blossoms to pay homage to her beauty, plumeria to symbolize their new beginning, agrimony to convey his thankfulness that she is willing to wait for him.

           Her favorite bouquet arrives four weeks before the end of the semester. As she steps through the doors of the bakery, a vase full of nine red roses sits atop the counter. The sight of them nearly takes her breath away. She pauses for a moment and runs her fingertips across the velveteen petals before plucking the notecard from its place.

           This week, Spencer chooses to forgo the explanation in favor of a messily scrawled poem;

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

that, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

we have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn 

with a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

let the more loving one be me. 

           That evening, Spencer receives his first bouquet from her. On his desk sits an arrangement of pale pink ambrosia.

           The meaning isn’t lost on him, but if it were, the note that sits next to the vase makes her intentions clear.

We never had to force love.

We were drowning in it from the moment we met.

--

           Spencer is horribly frustrated.

           A mere twenty feet away from where he stands, the notoriously garish and wholly unprofessional PhD program director is gesticulating wildly to the young woman that stands trapped between him and the hors d’oeuvre table. To find Professor Van Wesep in such a position is not uncommon, due to his penchant for trying to charm (terrorize) the prospective female doctoral candidates. The man is practically a walking harassment complaint waiting to happen. Spencer would abhor Van Wesep even if he weren’t the only thing standing in the way of him and his lover.

           At long last, the semester has drawn to a close. The lonely nights spent longing to hold her in his arms are a thing of the past. By the time the sun rises again, Spencer will no longer have to wonder what her body will feel like pressed against his. He’ll be thoroughly acquainted with every inch of her, and she with him. The thought sends a thrilled chill down his spine.

           The torturous foreplay they’ve been engaging in for the last four months would have surely broken a lesser man. Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted on more than one occasion to have her during one of her frequent visits to his office. Some days, when her visits came later in the evenings, just as the sun began to dip low in the sky, her eyes would glisten in such a way that told Spencer her thoughts were none dissimilar to his own. That glimmer of lust had him holding on to his restraint by the skin of his teeth.

           And here they were, on the last evening of the semester. Final grades had been submitted and were released hours prior. Spencer would have been content to skip this event altogether, in favor of more… recreational activities, but his lover insisted on attending.

           Initially, Spencer assumed her insistence lay in her desire to mingle with her future peers and mentors. Her true intentions come to light when she breezes into the room clad in a pair of sleek, designer pumps. Her lips, painted fire engine red, curl up into a playful smile at the sight of a slack-jawed Spencer Reid. The devious glint in her eye twinkles sinfully in the light.

           Tonight isn’t a social call at all. Tonight, she wants to play with him.

           And play she has.

           From the second she arrives all eyes are fixating on her celestial beauty. Peers and mentors alike trip over themselves in their haste to capture her attention, if only for a fleeting moment. She works the room flawlessly, leaving a trail of smitten men of all ages in her wake.

           The most smitten is Spencer himself, because he’s the lone recipient of countless heated glances, as well as more than a few knowing smirks. She well aware of what she’s doing to him, and she takes pleasure in watching him squirm.

          Spencer intervenes when Van Wesep makes the ill-advised decision to reach a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. He barely has the time to withdraw his hand before Spencer is upon them.

          “I apologize for the interruption,” Spencer casts a faux apologetic glance at his colleague, before settling his gaze on his target. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I speak to you for a moment?”

           She looks positively gleeful. Perhaps Spencer should have intervened hours ago.

           “Absolutely, Professor Reid.”

           The honorific sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He definitely should have stolen her away earlier.

           The two of them say their goodbyes to a confused Professor Van Wesep, whose imploring eyes follow them as they hurriedly slip from the party and down the hallway.

--

           “Where are we going?”

           Spencer leads her down a long corridor, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positions her between himself and the cold wooden door of an unoccupied office. The only sounds that can be heard are the distant thrum of the music and the eager pants falling from his lover’s lips.

           Spencer pulls her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair and the other finding purchase on her waist. He worries for a moment that he’s being too rough with her, that he should have taken a more careful approach to their first kiss, but she assuages those worries when she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. Her hand reaches between them and clutches his tie, then she’s pulling him closer and whining wantonly against his lips. Spencer takes this as an invitation to slip his tongue inside and he finds himself letting out a low groan when he tastes a hint of strawberry.

           Spencer pulls away to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

           “Oh, I think I do, Professor,” she laughs, breathless. “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted to do this.”

           Spencer jolts forward when her hand slides down to cup him over his trousers.

           “Could’ve done that a lot earlier if you hadn’t insisted on teasing me for the entire night,” Spencer growls through gritted teeth. He’s more than a little proud of his ability to string together a sentence with her hand working him over with slow, steady strokes.

           He trails a line of kisses across the underside of her jaw, before taking her earlobe and nipping it lightly with his canine. Spencer’s actions are rewarded with a full body shudder. He dips his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat and her hands ball into fists against his dress shirt.

           “Spencer, please.”

           Spencer hums and pulls back to look at her. The hand in her hair lowers, and he trails a thumb across where her nipples are hard against the fabric of her dress.

           “Yes, my love?”

           Her eyes flutter against the weight of her arousal, and Spencer twitches in his pants. The sight of her with her hair disheveled and her lipstick smeared on account of him is a heavenly thing. He doesn’t know how he ever deprived himself of such a splendor.

           “I want you. Right now.” She punctuates her words by pulling him down into a frenzied kiss. One of her hands tangles itself in the hair at the nape of his neck while the other busies with tugging his shirt out of his pants.

           “Right now?” Spencer taunts, mouth against mouth. His hand trails down the side of her breast, caressing her rib cage and her hip before stopping at her upper thigh. Spencer’s fingertips toy with the tops of her lace thigh highs. “But anyone could walk by and see us.”

           “I don’t care,” she argues, fumbling clumsily as she struggles to undo his belt buckle.

           Spencer’s wandering hand dips below the hem of her dress to explore the silky-smooth skin of her inner thigh. She’s soft here, too, he thinks to himself as his hand travels up, up, up. He stops just short of where she wants him most and she lets out a despairing cry.

           “You wouldn’t mind someone walking by and seeing you with your pretty legs spread wide for your professor?”

           Spencer brings life to his words by lifting her leg up, hitching her thigh around his hip and pressing into her. The silk fabric of her dress rustles as he pushes it up and out of the way.

           A breathy moan tumbles from her lips as he rocks against her, dragging his arousal up and down the front of her lace panties. The friction is maddening in that it provides only the smallest bit of relief. It’s not enough for Spencer, and judging by the way she desperately pushes down the fabric of his pants, it’s not enough for his partner, either.

           “Need to get these off now,” she murmurs against Spencer’s mouth. An eager hand tugs at the elastic band of his underwear.

           Spencer places his hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Not so fast, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready for me first.”

           Her fingers clamp down on Spencer’s wrist, guiding him to the sodden lace between her thighs.

           “Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” she whimpers as Spencer’s fingers take appraisal of the drenched cloth. “In fact, I think four months of foreplay is sufficient enough. Wouldn’t you say?”

           “Maybe so,” Spencer muses, voice muffled as he sucks at the skin of her neck. “But I’m not willing to chance hurting you our first time together. You’re entirely too precious to me.”

           Spencer captures her lips in a kiss so sweet it has her sighing into his mouth. When he pulls away, he fixes her with a smile.

           “You’re not particularly fond of these panties, are you?”

           Her eyebrows pull together. “No, why?”

           Spencer pulls at the flimsy fabric harshly and it gives way under the force of it. He reaches back to stuff the thong in his back pocket.

           “That’s why.”

           Spencer’s lips come down against hers at the same time his middle and index fingers drag across her slickness. His foresight pays off when his mouth muffles the sound of her cries. As confident he is that they won’t be found, a cry like that would certainly have drawn unwanted attention.

           The swipe of his thumb across her crest paired with the gentle pressure of his fingers dipping into her heat is enough to make her legs buckle. Had it not been for Spencer pressing her against the wall, she surely would have fallen to the ground in a trembling heap.

           “I could get lost in you for hours,” Spencer groans, curling his fingers inside her in such a way that makes her clutch desperately to his shirt.

           “Spencer, oh my God,” she keens. “I need you, please.”

           “You have me, my love,” Spencer whispers the promise against her parted lips. “You’ve had me since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

           Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers until the telltale tightening of her heat warns him of her impending climax. He has to bite down on his lower lip to regain his own composure. The feeling of her tight and wet around his fingers is almost too good.

           “Spencer, I’m getting close,” she whimpers.

           Spencer continues until she’s on the cusp of tumbling over the edge, until one more pass of his fingers against her crest would surely seal the deal, and then he’s removing his hand and taking a step back.

           “Spencer, what the fu-,” she pauses when he promptly shoves his pants and underwear just enough to free himself from their painful confines. “Oh.”

           A dazed smile makes its way to her face as Spencer presses himself against her once more. He sweeps her up into a kiss comprised of pure, unadulterated desire, before pulling away and smirking deviously at her.

           “Jump.”

           It takes a moment for her pleasure fogged brain to make sense of the request, but as soon as it does, she complies without question.

           Spencer’s hands grip her thighs firmly and in one swift thrust he sheaths himself into her fully – an indulgence so grand that all others dull in comparison. Now that he’s had the finest, felt it wrapped around him like warm velvet, he can’t imagine a world in which he must live without it.

           “Spencer!”

           Spencer swears he’s never heard a sweeter sound than her crying out his name as their bodies come together for the first time. It’s synonymous with a siren call, he thinks, because in that moment she could lure him to certain death and he knows he would go with a smile.

           His lips seek purchase on the exposed skin of her chest as he buries himself in her paradise again and again. The sharp sting of her heels digging into his back with every thrust brings out a sort of primal urge in him, spurring him to rut up into her like a man possessed.

           “You feel perfect,” Spencer groans out against the flushed skin of her neck. He presses a soft kiss to where her pulse bounds just beneath the skin before pulling away and locking eyes with her. “When I’m old and gray and can remember nothing else, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember how it felt to kiss you for the first time – how it felt to touch you. How it felt to worship you and make love to your body.”

           Spencer’s voices catches, thick and overwhelmed with emotion.

           “I’ll remember how it feels to love you.”

           Her breath catches in her throat and sharp pang of panic burns hot in his chest. Had he misinterpreted her affections? Did she not burn for him in the same way? Perhaps the ambrosia meant nothing. Spencer’s movements falter, and for several torturous seconds he’s nearly paralyzed with fear.

            She silences those fears with a kiss.

           “Oh, Spencer,” she sighs as she presses her forehead against his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever comprehend.”

           Spencer resumes moving in and out of her, but the frenzied feeling from before is replaced with something else now. Something softer, but no less passionate.

           “Yeah?��� he inquires, searching her eyes for any trace of insincerity. He finds none, and it’s a relief. Any hint of falseness in her claim would surely lead to a heartbreak he could never recover from.

           “Yes.” The word trails off into a moan. “I love you, Spencer Reid. I don’t imagine I’ll ever stop.”

           Spencer’s heart jolts and he whines pathetically against her mouth. “I’m counting on that.”

           “I’m close, Spencer,” she pants, her breath hitting his face in warm puffs. “Don’t think I can last much longer.”

           “Me, too.” Spencer nudges her nose with his own. “Reach between us and touch yourself, my love. I want us to cum together. Can you do that for me?”

           She nods, and the hand that clung to his right shoulder dips in between them to rub tight circles against her crest. Spencer doubles his efforts when he sees her eyelids flutter closed, and the resulting tightening of her core leaves him panting hard.

           “Spencer, I-” her breath catches in her throat as Spencer delivers a particularly strong thrust. Her head falls against his shoulder, her soft moans of his name like heaven to his ears.

           “Cum with me, baby,” Spencer grunts out desperately. He needs it like he needs air to breath and water to drink. And once he has it, he knows he’ll need it again and again.

           She gives it to him with a muffled cry of his name and he’s instantly swept away, drowning in the blissful way her body sings for him. His body follows her lead, shattering completely under her fingertips.

           While he’s been through similar acts with previous partners, those instances always felt impersonal and clinical. The caresses and whispered words were all a means to an end, an end that usually left him feeling lonelier and emptier than when he started. But right now, as he feels the beat of her heart pressed against his own, he swears he couldn’t feel fuller - full of adoration, full of affection, full of love. It’s beautiful and overwhelming and everything Spencer didn’t know he was looking for.

           A raucous round of applause erupts from the direction of the party, startling the two of them. Spencer feels her laugh against his neck.

           “It’s almost as if they were applauding us for a job well done.”

           Spencer presses a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

           “As they should. That was sensational.”

           Spencer carefully pulls out and lowers her to the floor. He wastes no time in tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a reverent kiss. Spencer hopes his lips convey his gratitude.

           The two of them pull apart and set to making themselves presentable. Their efforts prove to be in vain when Spencer points out a dark purple love bite nestled into the crook of her neck. She counters this by taking note of the smudge of red lipstick on his collar.

           “What an adulterous pair we make, Professor.”

           Spencer rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not your professor anymore.” He bends down and places a kiss to her lips before taking her hand in his.

           “I suppose you’re not,” she muses as they meander down the corridor. “Whatever shall we do now?”

           As the two of them step out of the dark hallway and reenter the party, Spencer smiles to himself. Visions of wedding rings flit through his mind. Spencer supposes he’ll have to take a break from the posh clothing and rare books in favor of saving his money. He’ll buy only the finest ring for his future wife, after all.

           “I have a few ideas.”

-

-

-

-

-

taglist: @90spumkin @moon-light-jukebox​ @whxt-to-write @calm-and-doctor @jessalyn-jpeg @pinkdiamond1016 @itsametaphorbriansblog @eldahae @itsmytimetoodream @kasaikawa @shadyladyperfection

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #professor!spencer #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler fanfic #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #smut #professor!reid

[dokoni-mo]

Far Away, Together || Darth Vader x Reader (Chapter 6)

(A/N: I had originally planned to do post this friday, but I was just on such a roll last night that this bad boy practically wrote itself! Im very happy with the turnout as well :)) I hope y’all like it too!!! I also realized while writing this that the series will have to be one chapter longer than I had originally intended, but that’s just good news in my book!! As always, please feel free to ask to be put on the taglist for anything or send me asks about anything!! I love interacting with yall and making content for yall!! enjoy more time with our favorite sith ;) ))) 

WARNINGS: cursing, old man kinda creeping, breif mentions of violence, otherwise none!!! 

Key: (F/N) = first name 

Word Count: ~5600

Chapter One: [x]

Chapter Two: [x]

Chapter Three: [x]

Chapter Four: [x]

Chapter Five: [x]

Chapter Five and a Half: [x]

~~

You hadn’t meant to be late that morning, but nonetheless, you were. Unquestionably so. 

Waking up in the silk sheets that morning had been one of the most difficult things that you had ever had to do. For one, the bed was quite comfortable compared to the cot that you normally slept upon in your quarters back on the Super Star Destroyer. The cot that the Empire provided you was almost exactly like the Empire itself. Cold, hard, and not comfortable at all. The bed there on that planet, however, was the opposite. It was warm, inviting, and very comfortable. You would have simply cocooned yourself back in the covers and fallen back asleep were it not for you remembering your duty. 

Alongside leaving the comfort, waking up that morning meant that the time you had spent with Lord Vader the night prior was officially over. For a brief moment in your groggy, freshly woken-up state, you had thought that the dance you shared with Lord Vader must have been a dream. A wonderful, yet cruel dream of what you knew could never be. However, contemplating it a moment longer, you knew that it was, in fact, very much real. Sitting up to look sleepily at your surroundings, you felt the phantom touch of Lord Vader’s arm around your waist, his hand within yours. Going back further, you replayed the conversation you had had with him in your mind, cementing the thought within your memory. 

You smiled to yourself then. You knew that you would cherish that moment forever.

After picking up your uniform and pulling it's cloth upon your body, you decided that it would be best to simply just cut to the chase and go downstairs instead of stalling in your room for an indefinite amount of time. As you opened the door and clacked your boots down the hallway, a yawn escaped from behind your lips, making you raise your hand to your mouth to muffle the sound. As you drew closer to the stairs, you started to hear muffled voices from below you, your ears unable to decipher what exactly the voices were saying. 

Your curiosity taking over you, you slowed your steps so that you could concentrate on the voices, your ears perking as you honed in on what they were picking up. After a moment of investigation, your mind was able to process the tone of the voice you heard, but not necessarily the words of which it was speaking. Your brow furrowed as you searched your mind for where exactly you had heard that voice before. The memory seemed so distant from your conscious, yet so very close. 

The face that matched the voice hit you like a ton of bricks. 

That face was old and nasty. 

That face had blue eyes. 

Shit. 

You were late. Very, very late. 

Adrenaline pumping through you, you bounded down the stairs faster than you had ever before on any set of stairs. You cursed how loud the sound of your boots stomping quickly on top of the surface of each step sounded, eliminating your chances of joining the meeting quietly and undetectably. Drawing quickly down the stairs, you were greeted with a sight of confirmation of exactly how late you were. About 50 feet away from you stood a handful of palace guards, another handful of stromtroopers and officers, one king, and, of course, one extremely tall sith lord, looming above the rest as he always did.

Walking quickly over to the group to assume your position at Lord Vader’s side, it was extremely difficult to not notice the stares you got from the officers and, more-so, the king. Meeting his blue gaze for a moment, you felt your cheeks rush with embarrassment. It was only then that you had allowed your mind to go back further into the events of the past night. 

The king’s hands on you. 

The conversation you had. 

The broken glass. 

You should have been ashamed to show your face. But, you weren’t. You were proud that you had put that old man in his damn place. 

You were ashamed, however, of exactly how much you suspected you would be chewed-out by Lord Vader for being late two days in a row. 

Oh well. 

Standing with your arms crossed over your chest, you found your position by Lord Vader’s side, shooting up a small, quick smile at the sith Lord. He turned briefly to acknowledge your presence before returning to his original position of staring down at the old king. This made you puff your cheeks slightly, disappointed that he didn’t do anything else. Thinking it over a moment longer, you decided that you shouldn’t be too upset. This was technically a meeting, to be fair. 

Returning your gaze to face forward, you were met by the sight of the king’s gaze trained upon you. The look he gave to you was one of an odd flurry of amusement and daggers, his lips in a slight smirk. Your eyes hardened in return, refusing to let you submit to the old asshole’s gaze. 

“Well,” the king said, a breathy chuckle in his voice, “Look who has decided to join us! Good morning, Miss (F/N).” 

You put on the best half-friendly smile that you could before formulating your response, “Good morning, your majesty.” 

If you had simply trained on his words, you would have convinced yourself that perhaps the king had decided to continue on like the previous night’s actions had never occurred. However, you knew that his eyes had told a different story. Yet, you were confused. It was hard to tell what exact game he was trying to play

 Furthermore, it was hard to tell if you really wanted to play. 

“Well,” the king said, clapping his gloved hands together, “Now that everyone is here, allow me to guide the way.” 

Turning on his heel and walking the other direction, you figured that you must have missed the details of the day while you were getting ready that morning. Sighing silently to yourself, you picked up your boots to follow the king, as well as the barrage of guards, stormtroopers, and officers that tailed him. 

This had been your original plan, until it was sharply and swifty interrupted by a large weight throwing itself upon your shoulder, simultaneously pulling you back and keeping you in place. Your mouth opened to let out a yelp, but your lungs prevented this with a moment's more worth of constipation. 

You recognized this weight. 

“You are late again.” You heard the weight’s owner say from behind you, your cheeks turning pink.

Turning your body to face the sith lord behind you, you crossed your arms again as you looked up at him, a small smile on your features. 

“I like to think that I’m just fashionably late again, my Lord.” You quipped back at him, “What do we have to do today?” 

He gave you a strong pat on the shoulder before walking past you, slow enough for you to keep up, “Our host will be showing us what his planet has to offer the Empire, along with its natural resources.” 

 You walked to catch up with Lord Vader, letting your arms fall to your sides. 

“How exciting…” you mumbled out. 

You continued to walk in silence for a long moment beside the sith lord, unsure of what to say. You desperately wanted to say something, anything, but the words just would and could not come to you. Every now and again, you would open your mouth to say something, but would quickly second guess what it was, causing you to shut it again. You began to grow somewhat frustrated that you couldn’t find the words. You hoped that you didn’t look as dumb as you felt. 

Lord Vader must have sensed the frustration growing inside of you as he looked down at your small frame, noticing how your brow was furrowed as you stared at your feet in compilation. He would never admit it to anyone, but he found it to be… 

Amusing. 

Returning his gaze to it's original position, you heard the sound of his respirator pick up in rhythm before he spoke. 

“(F/N),” Lord Vader said, “I sense that you are frustrated.” 

You felt your gut sink as you processed the words, shooting a look up at him. Damn, you thought to yourself, is it that obvious?

“I… I don’t know what you mean.” you responded. This was a half lie. You had known exactly what he meant by the words, but not what exactly he was trying to say. So what if you were frustrated? Every time he came to visit you while you were working on his TIE you were frustrated. What made now so special? 

Lord Vader paused again before rumbling out his response, the metal of his armor gleaming in the light of the day. 

“I enjoyed our night together as well.” 

Oh. 

That’s what made now special.

Your heart had skipped multiple beats at his words. Your nerves were firing off a mile a minute as waves of joy rippled through you. You had not realized that you were nervous about whether or not he actually wanted to be with you last night, or if he was simply doing it to get away from the mingling he had to do. Your doubt quieted, you looked up at Lord Vader’s mask, a big smile painted on your features. Sensing your gaze, Lord Vader pointed his mask to look down upon you. 

“I’m… glad. Really glad.” you said up at him, your eyes crinkling in delight, “I… hope that it wasn’t the last one.” 

You shot your gaze down back to your feet after you finished talking, your smile fading into a soft, faint stretch of your lips. You were surprised how bold you had been just then, admitting your true feelings to the sith. Where you should have felt embarrassed, you felt instead… content. You didn’t regret your actions at all. You felt comfortable even. If you had been anyone else, you knew that you would have been sliced in half or choked to death right then and right there. Yet, by some grace that was far bigger than you, you knew deep down, you were lucky enough to be excluded from that fate.

You thanked your maker above silently and unconsciously. 

Lingering his gaze upon you a moment longer, Lord Vader drank in the sight of your flushed face before turning his armor-clad head to face forward again, as if he were looking something very, very far away. His words came a moment filled with nothing but the sound of birds, the breeze, and his respirator allowing him to inhale and exhale later. 

“As do I.” 

~~~

The places that the King had taken you, Lord Vader, and the posse of troopers and officers were pretty, but not all that interesting. A tour of the city, a look at the forest, a look at the sea, and a look at the sports colosseum. Again, all very beautiful to look at, but not too interesting to talk about. 

You had been able to avoid any sort of contact with the king as you trudged through the sights of the city, keeping your mouth shut and your eyes trained on the view around you. Every now and again, your group would begin to walk without you even realizing. You were always broken from your trance by Lord Vader, either by him calling out your name or leading you on by the small of your back for a brief moment, his giant hand nearly taking up the entire expanse. Both would always make you smile up at him, and the latter would make you blush. 

You were currently atop of a platform that looked over a medium-sized waterfall, the sound of the water falling off the edge filling your ears. The air was thick with the smell of salt, and the dew that emanated off of the falls making the atmosphere humid, but pleasantly so with the breeze that fluttered your hair. Across the stretch of rock that you stood upon was the entrance to one of the largest mines on the planet, the cave so large you had to crane your neck to look atop it. The few stalactites and stalagmites that stuck out of the entrance gleamed and littered in the sunlight, emanating many hues of the rainbow. If you weren’t here representing the Empire, you would have almost thoroughly enjoyed the setting. 

“I will give you a few moments to look around, my Lord. I have to discuss something with my advisors for a brief moment.” The king had said to your boss after blubbering on for a long while about the history of the mine and the resources that were found inside. With a nod of approval from Lord Vader, the king gave one last snake-like smirk and walked off, giving you some sort of look. You felt a sour taste on your tongue as you rolled your eyes, making sure that the king’s gaze was turned away before you did so. 

You had hoped to take a short walk with Lord Vader while the two of you were on break from mingling, but you were disappointed to see his attention be taken away by an officer who demanded his attention. You would have been saddened, were it not for you remembering that the visit to that damn planet wasn’t just a get away for you and Lord Vader to hold hands all day and walk into the sunset together. There was work to be done and deals to be made, and that always seemed to involve him in some way.

Awesome. 

Deciding to not try and make friends with the guards or strike up a conversation with the stormtroopers, you placed a hand on your hip as you started to slowly walk around the stone platform. You had eyed some of the members of the posse as you walked by, quietly wondering what their daily lives were like or what their thoughts on Lord Vader’s visit. Sighing to yourself, you realized that they must be just as boring as your own. 

As you continued to stroll about the platform and gaze absentmindedly at the people that littered it, a certain sight had caught your attention. You didn’t mean specifically to look at the king, but your eyes had somehow fallen upon him. Just as he said he would, he was currently talking to a few guardsmen who seemed to have a few more matches and medals than the rest. Captains and generals, you took it. 

Lingering your gaze a moment longer, you felt a jolt rush through your spine as your lips parted. While the king was whispering to his guards, he had taken a moment to look over his shoulder at you, a glint of venom in his eyes. This glint quickly dissipated, however, once he realized that his blue eyes had made sudden contact with yours. With this, he quickly let his gaze fall as he continued to talk quietly with his advisors, as if he had hoped you did not notice this action. 

However, quite the contrary, you had noticed as plain as day. Processing what had just happened, you allowed your brow to furrow.

What was that for? You wondered to yourself. The obvious answer, the one you wanted so desperately to believe, was that the look you had exchanged was by pure accident, the tone of his look being from the king’s residual loathing from the night prior. However, as much as you wanted to believe that, you gut told a different story. You felt… odd. 

You decided to do something about it. 

Marching past all the other people dispersed in the crowd, you only stopped when you were within conversation distance between the king and his huddle of guards. You had noticed that their voices had grown quieter and quieter as you had approached. 

“Did you want to speak with me, your majesty?” you asked, raising your voice so that you could be heard over the bodies of the guardsmen as you placed a hand on your hip. 

A moment of awkward hesitation loomed over the air as the king exchanged a few glances with the guards, causing you to raise a brow. Smirking and stepping forward, the king placed his hands behind his back as he looked down at you. 

“Now where would you get that idea, my dear?” the king asked you, his tone so sickeningly sweet it made you wince. 

We made eye contact, dumbass. 

“I saw that you were looking my way, your majesty,” you responded, “and I just figured-” 

“What? That I would ever want to speak with the likes of you again?” 

Your mouth opened slightly in shock at his sudden change of tone, your legs moving to shift your weight. Excuse me?

“W-What?” you stammered out, the shock still in your veins, “no, I just-” 

“Don’t get smart again with me, missy.” the king hissed out, stepping forward and glaring down at you, his finger in your face, “Don’t think that I have forgotten how you embarrassed me in front of my entire entourage last night.” 

Oh. 

This was what this is about. 

Not letting yourself back down, you placed both hands on your hips, your brow furrowing again as you shot up a glare right back at the blue-eyed old man. 

“Embarrassed you? How about when you embarrassed me?! Looking at me like that, talking to me like that, are you out of your-” 

“Shut up,” the king spat, cutting you off. Suddenly and without warning, he reached out and grabbed you by the collar, making your eyes widen. You wrapped your hands around his wrist and tried to pull away, only for him to pull you closer to his glare. 

“Do you really think that you could pull that sort of stunt and get away with it? I swear, I will-” 

“Is there something wrong, your majesty?” 

The voice that came from behind you was comforting to you, but only sparked fear within he eyes of the king. Letting you go almost instantly, you stumbled backwards, your back bumping against the hard, firm surface of a panel of buttons. Before you could look up at the owner of a panel, a pair of hands wrapped themselves around your shoulders, grounding you and making you feel safe. Looking at the king again, you had noticed that his face had morphed from one of anger and hate to one of fear, only masked by a forced friendly smile. You smirked softly to yourself as you noticed the beads of sweat starting to form upon on his old, wrinkly brow. 

“O-Of course not, Lord Vader!” the king said, a waver in his voice, “Miss (F/N) and I were just having a, erm, little… chat.” 

“Is that so…” Lord Vader rumbled out. You opened your mouth to object, but you were quickly cut off by the old man before you. 

“Y-yes! Yes of course!” the king chuckled nervously in response. 

“Good,” rumbled Lord Vader, taking his hands off your shoulder and stepping closer to the king ever so slowly, his head tilting to the side, “It would be quite the shame if my prised mechanic were to be harmed.” 

Gulping silently and taking a few steps back, the king responded, “Yes… quite the shame indeed.” 

Clearing his throat, the king placed his hands on his hips, assuming a new look of attempted friendliness. 

“Well, I assume that we are all done here, yes? Excellent! Let us head back to my palace now, my Lord. There we can talk more about our entrance into the Empire.” 

Before Lord Vader could do anything in approval, the King pushed past both  you and the sith lord, the cape on his shoulders fluttering at his pace. As the troopers and officers began to follow suit, you began to mimic their actions, only to be stopped by a familiar hand upon your shoulder. 

“(F/N),” Lord Vader spoke to you, making the pair of you linger behind the group, “Are you… alright?” 

You didn’t know how to respond instantly.

Were you alright?

You frowned slightly as you thought about what your response should be. You didn’t know whether or not to tell him about your interaction with the king, or how you had seen him look at you and whisper with his guards. The feeling in your gut had not dissipated, and it plagued the back of your mind. You wondered if that was worth telling Lord Vader, however, since he already had so much to worry about. Was that just normal behavior? Lord Vader did do similar things with the officers on the Super Star Destroyer… 

“Yeah, I’m fine… thanks.” you decided to respond. Shooting up a small smile at his mask, you lifted up your own hand to rest upon his own briefly in order to cement your gratitude. 

He looked at you in silence for a long moment after you responded. You wondered if your answer had satisfied his curiosity. His pause said no, even the aura around him said no, but he did not poke the subject any further as he removed his hand from your shoulder. 

Deep down, you really wanted him to question you further. 

~~~

The walk back to the palace was excruciatingly long. 

You didn’t realize just how far you and the little posse had gone until you passed by literally everything that the king had taken you to see. By this point, the sun was starting to set, and your feet were starting to ache in your boots. You were somewhat grateful for this, however, since it meant that the second day on this planet was finally drawing to an end. 

Just one more day of having to deal with this shit, you thought to yourself, then I can go back to my station. Funny… I never thought I would miss that place. 

But there I can be by myself, and not worry about having to deal with creeps. 

There I can be with…

You shook your head to dislodge your thoughts. Now was not the time nor the place for you to indulge in such things. 

Staring to grow bored with your walk alongside Lord Vader, you began to let your eyes wander once again for some people-watching. You watched as the stormtroopers marched along with their guns held tightly to their chests, and how the officers walked with their heads held high. There was no doubt that this was an empirical entourage. 

Looking deeper into the crowd, you allowed your gaze to fall upon the king’s guardsmen. Their uniforms were somewhat silly to you, but you figured that you must be biased in that regard. Training your eyes on them a moment longer, you started to notice small things that the guards would do. 

Every so often, one guard would whisper to another, then another, then another. Sometimes, the guards would even steal glances of you and Lord Vader as you were fixated by his side. Your brow furrowed again at this, making your mind try and piece together what you were seeing. 

He must have sensed your shift in mood since he looked down at you without warning, his respirator as loud as ever. He took note of your facial expression before he spoke. 

“You seem on edge, (F/N).” Lord Vader said, making you look up at him a brief moment. 

“Yeah,” you said back quietly, your fingers twitching in a faint sense of nervousness, “It's just… Do you see them looking at us? It’s… weird.” 

Lord Vader looked at you a moment before responding. 

“Yes, I am aware.” 

“Should we… do something about it? Or is this normal?” 

“It happens periodically upon my visit to certain systems. Besides,” he continued, “Any attempt to conspire against the Empire shall result in failure.” 

You would have smiled at that if it weren’t for the pang of nervousness that still resided in your gut. Instead, you looked down at your feet and frowned to yourself, your lips stretching into a brief line. 

“If you say so, my Lord…” 

You desperately wanted to believe him. But, a pit of doubt and anxiety in your stomach kept you from doing as such fully. You hated the feeling. 

It’s just me wanting to get off this damn rock… you tried to tell yourself. 

You didn’t fully believe yourself, either. 

You didn’t know which feeling to hate more. 

~~~

Upon your arrival back to the palace, you were allowed 30 minutes to yourself to freshen-up before the day’s closing meeting. Relieved to get a moment to yourself, you headed up the stairs almost too quickly as you were relieved to go by Lord Vader. 

‘Do try not to be, how do you put it… ‘fashionably late,’ again this evening, (F/N)’ he said to you. 

‘No promises, my Lord.’ you had giggled back to him. 

Locking the door and kicking off your boots in your room, you sat down gingerly upon the freshly made bed, a wave of relief washing over you, so strong that it made you lie back upon the plush surface. Reaching your arms above your head, you arched your back as you let yourself have a big stretch, your muscles turning cold from the rush of blood-flow. Letting out a big breath, you closed your eyes as you let relaxation flow over you. You figured that since you needed energy to continue on with the night, now was as good a time as any to get in a quick cat-nap. 

Just as you had settled into your quick nap, a startling yet soft sound made you snap your eyes open, because of course something had to take your relaxation away from you. Laying there silently for a moment, you tried your best to hone in on the sound. Your ears prickling, you heard the noise again, only this time it made you sit up in your bed at attention. Finally able to decipher where the noise had been coming from, you snapped your head over to the knob on your door. 

Sure enough, it was twisting and turning at a feverish pace. 

Someone was trying to come in. 

Oh hell no. 

A sense of anger and frustration washing over you, you quickly marched over to the door, throwing it open as quickly as you could. 

“WHAT THE HELL-” 

Nothing. And no one. That’s what meat your gaze as you looked out in the hallway. 

Your face fell from one of anger to one of sad confusion as you stood there a moment, your hand sliding down the surface of the door. Sighing to yourself, you slowly went back into your room and closed the door behind you. You closed your eyes and pointed your head at the ceiling as you leaned your back against the door, allowing yourself to slide down into a kneeling position. 

Great, you thought, now I’m going crazy. 

I just want to go home. 

I hate it here. 

~~~

Deciding to humor Lord Vader a little, you had arrived at the night’s closing meeting on time. This had proven to be the correct choice, since you didn’t get any stares from anyone upon your arrival. The gut feeling from that morning still inside you, and this did little to appease it. However, it made you wonder if the king had given up on whatever he was trying to pull with you from earlier. 

But, of course, you had no way of knowing. 

The meeting was just as boring as all the other ones you had been to. Again, you were sit speechless by Lord Vader as he discussed the topics at hand with the king or one of his advisors. As he did so, you would try and find anything you could do to entertain yourself. This often involved counting tiles or trying to play back a holovid you had seen long ago back in your mind. 

This meeting, however, had a big surprise in store for you. 

“Miss (F/N),” you heard the king’s voice call out to you, sending a shock of get your head out of your ass down your spine, “You look dreadfully bored over there, my dear.” 

Looking over to the king, you hid your scowl as best you could as you tried to ease your sense of deja-vu. 

“Well, there isn’t much I have to add to the conversation, your majesty…” you responded back. You hadn’t meant to sound snarky, yet you couldn’t help yourself. 

The king laughed, an odd glint in his eye, “Yes, of course, my dear. I understand perfectly. Yet, I feel so bad just watching you sitting there. Here, how about we have my guards here escort you to the mechanical department for the time being? You can get a good look at the place whilst me and Lord Vader discuss, hm?” 

Your lips parted in confusion as you looked into the king’s blue eyes. What the hell? Did he suddenly feel bad for being such a dick to you? Or did he simply just feel bad? Or could he just not stand the sight of you anymore?

Deep down, you didn’t care. Enticed by an opportunity to leave the boring meeting behind, your mind was fuzzed from any thoughts of doubt that plagued your conscience. That offer did sound… appealing. 

However… 

“I… I would love to, your majesty, but…” you began to say, turning your gaze to fall upon Lord Vader for a moment, “I wouldn’t want to go against my Lord’s wishes if he required me to stay.” 

This was a silent plea, but you wouldn’t know it yet. 

“Oh, I’m sure that our dear Lord wouldn’t mind at all! Am I right, Lord Vader? Won’t you allow our dear Miss (F/N) to be relieved of our boring conversation?” the king asked, propping his boots on the table. 

You shot your gaze over to Lord Vader, unable to tell what emotion your eyes emanated to him. The sith looked right back at you, the sound of his respirator allowing him to inhale and exhale filling the room. 

Deep down, you wanted him to say no. 

Deep down,you prayed he would say no. 

He spoke after one of his trademark pauses. 

“I will allow it.” 

Why did that sting so bad? You should be relieved… 

“Excellent!” the king exclaimed, “Guards, please take Miss (F/N) to the mechanical department for the time being. I will comm you when she is to return.” 

The guards grasped their blasters tightly in response, standing at attention. Slowly but surely, you stood up from your chair and pushed it in. As you turned, mumbled out a quiet thanks, and began to walk past the dark lord you knew too well, you felt something large and leathery wrap around your fingers. Sure enough, when you looked down, he saw his hand wrapped there, making you look up at his mask. 

“(F/N),” he said slowly, just enough for you to hear, “be… careful.” 

You smiled and nodded at him like you didn’t need his caution.

Why did it feel so wrong? 

With Lord Vader eventually letting you out of his grasp, you walked over to your guard escorts and gave them a nod to signal to them that you were ready. Nodding in return, they turned on their heels and escorted you out of the room. 

You gave one last glance over your shoulder at Lord Vader before you exited. 

Deep down, you prayed that this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him.

~~

The palace was eerily quiet with no one else but you and two guards walking the halls. Even though you had never been to a palace before, something inside you told you that this was wrong. 

You ignored it. 

The sound of footsteps echoing off of the walls made the goosebumps raise on your arms. It was so eerily quiet. And so eerily cold. You thought about striking up conversation with the guards, but you took them as not the type for conversation. 

Looking past all the doors that you saw on your walk, you took brief moments with each to see the contents inside all of them. You felt a lump in your throat as you saw a door with half-broken ships and blasters in the doorway. A feeling of unease washed over you. 

You ignored it. 

There must be some other way into that room. 

You held your biceps as the guards led you down a long hallway, only for it to end with two long, dull, menacing doors. A pit bore itself into your stomach. 

You ignored it. 

“Is this… it?” you asked. 

“Yes.” One of the guards responded. 

“But…” you said, “I-I saw some ships back there and-” 

You were swiftly and rudely cut off by an action you barely had any time to process. 

The guard had lifted his blaster, pointed to butt-end at you, and slammed it against the side of your forehead. 

Instantly, your vision blurred, your brain just barely able to process what was happening as your sight started to fade to black. 

You heard the doors to the room in front of you open. 

You felt your weak body being dragged inside. 

Your body weak, you felt yourself roll onto your side to face the fall without you even telling your body to do it. 

You were met with one final sight before everything went black. 

There was no mistaking it. 

You had seen it countless times before. 

From news briefings.

From posters. 

From propaganda. 

That brilliant crimson.

The symbol of the rebellion. 

~~~

TAGS: @spaghetti-666 , @soullesstaco , @arsonistvoyager , @robin-obsessed , @glitter-rian , @captainrexstan , @easterncryptid , @deviatedwinter , @roseangel013bf , @danicalifxrnia , @dartheldur , @finest-trashbag​ , @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii​ , @elongatedmusk-rat​ , @shads121​ , @muffinbeliever​ , @sakuramadae​ , @padme-parker​ , @missmannequin​ 

#darth vader #darth vader x reader #fanfiction #anakin x you #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars fanfic

[trulymadlysydney]

All I Want For Christmas

In which it’s Christmas time, and Harry can’t help falling for the girl who helps him shop for gifts. 

A/N: THE CHRISTMAS ONESHOT IS HERE! I’m sorry I didn’t get this out yesterday like I originally planned, but I figured better late than never right?!  Enjoy, my loves, and Merry Christmas!!! xx

Please do NOT repost without permission!!!! 

The first time he comes in is on a Friday.  Which is generally known to be one of the busiest days in retail, so he has no one else to blame for the crowds but himself.  Especially being Harry Styles.  For goodness sake. 

But he isn’t blaming anyone, or anything, really.  He knows he’s brought this upon himself by waiting until a few weeks before Christmas to do his shopping.  Normally he’d be so on top of things.  But he hadn’t had the time, having just completed the first half of his world tour.  Being Harry Styles and all.

The crowds aren’t all that bad, all things considered.  It isn’t like he’s being mobbed-- and he’s certainly had his fair share of that in his day.  No, aside from the few picture requests here and there, he is generally left alone-- and yet all too aware of the fact that there are cameras taking pictures of his every move at any given second.

Still, he tries to ignore that and presses on, entering the store.  Christmas music plays obnoxiously loud. He is overwhelmed with a strong scent of cologne, and he coughs.

The corner of this room seems to be significantly more crowded than the rest of the room, so he tries to avoid that.  He maneuvers his way through the crowd and wonders why on earth he couldn’t have gone online shopping like literally everybody else.  Of course then, it would arguably be less authentic because he hadn’t hand-picked the gift.   He was always silly about those things.

Working his way towards the back of the room and into the next, he is now in earshot of the conversations happening in the corner. One shrill voice is heard above all the others. “Miss, I have been standing here for three minutes now, could I please get some assistance?”

He almost doesn’t catch the response, because it sounds further away.  Or oddly, lower down than all the other voices.  But he does hear it.  “Ma’am... please. We’re doing our best and I’m kind of trying to, you know, clean up glass here so that no one brains themselves.”  

The irritated customer scoffs.  “Well, I have been standing here since long before the incident happened.  You have terrible customer service.  I’d like to speak to your manager.”

And Harry knows he shouldn’t do this.  He knows it isn’t his place, but now he’s intrigued.  So he steps towards the chaos.  

It’s then that he sees her.  A young woman on all fours, using a little brush and a dustpan to sweep up the remains of a shattered cologne bottle.  Which explains why his nostrils had been assaulted.    She looks absolutely exhausted.

She sighs, looking up at the customer.  “Of course.  If you’ll just give me a moment to--”

“Are you serious?” The customer throws up her hands.  “Young lady, I shop in Paris.  I can get all of these things for a LOT cheaper there, but I choose to come here.  I have been coming here for a year now, but after your behavior today I will NEVER be coming back.  Your corporate office will be hearing about this.”

Harry looks around.  The store is packed, wall to wall with customers.  It seems severely understaffed, and those who are working seem to be just as stressed as this girl.  But there’s something about her, this poor girl who’s trying her best to clean up the glass and handle this woman’s complaints at the same time.  He takes pity on her really, and so he reaches out to grab the nearest employee as soon as they walk by. 

“Excuse me.”

He watches the recognition register on the employees face, and her cheeks turn a bright red.  “Oh my god,” she says quietly, before realizing she’s in a professional setting.  She regains her composure- poorly- and visibly gulps.  “How can I help you, Mr. Styles?”

Harry hadn’t even given her his name, and it takes him a moment to realize that she already knew it.  Everyone did.  Of course.   Even still, after years of being Harry Styles, it took him a moment to remember these things.

He nods his head towards the woman in the corner.  “I think the employee there needs a manager.  And possibly some help.  Broken bottle and a bit of a difficult customer.”

The girl sighs, and even she looks exhausted.  “She comes in here a lot,” she says quietly, seemingly forgetting once more that she’s supposed to be professional.  “I’ll get my manager.  Thank you for telling me.  Let me know if you need anything else!” She is obviously incredibly nervous, which is silly, Harry thinks.  But he’s used to it.  He watches her disappear further into the store and glances back towards the corner of the room.

The girl cleaning up the glass looks to be on the verge of tears, and the customer is going on and on about how “A smile can go a long way, young lady” and “how dare you treat me, an esteemed and long time customer, so poorly.”  Harry almost wants to step in himself, but he knows that would probably do more harm than good.  So he just stands there, frozen, and hoping that the manager will show up soon.

It doesn’t take too long for the manager to arrive, thank God, and the girl on the floor looks relieved at the sight.  Poor thing.  As soon as the customer turns to speak with the manager, Harry gets a good look at the girl.  

Despite her weary eyes and messy hair, she’s cute.  Insanely cute.  And she has sweet eyes and a pretty mouth that, Harry is certain, looks beautiful when it’s smiling.

 Harry wants to wrap her up in a huge hug.  Tell her she’s doing just fine, she did nothing wrong.  He also wants to take her home and put her in comfortable clothes and give her a cup of tea.  She looks like she could use about twelve hours of sleep, and his bed seems like the perfect place.  

And then he’s shaking his head because he doesn’t even know this girl and he’s thinking about her in his bed while she’s on the floor, cleaning up glass and looking on the verge of crying at any second. 

The manager whisks the customer off somewhere else to talk more clearly, but Harry knows that the girl on the floor isn’t in trouble.  The other employee said this customer came in a lot, and by the look on her face, none of the employees could stand her.   The minute she walks away, the body language of Floor Girl changes immediately.

Her shoulders slump forward, releasing all the tension she’d been holding, and her lips pull into a frown.  She swallows a few times, and that confirms it for him-- she’s definitely about to cry. 

Harry can’t even stop himself at that point.  He’s walking towards her-- although he doesn’t even know what he’s going to say to her when he gets there.

He stops though when she stands up, dustpan and brush in hand.  She walks right by him, not even noticing that he-- Harry Styles-- is watching her.  That only intrigues him more.

He follows her through the rooms of the store from a safe distance, trying his best not to be suspicious or creepy but keeping his eye on her because, for some odd reason, he just wants to know she’s okay.  To his dismay, she disappears into the women’s room before he can say anything.

He’s standing there awkwardly now.  He opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He twists one of the rings on his fingers.  What is he expecting?  Does he want her to notice him and make a big deal?  What’s he going to say when she does?  “Great job cleaning up that glass. You should be promoted.”

He looks around the store once more and selfishly thanks his lucky stars he’d never had to do this.  Sure, he’d worked a few jobs in his life prior to making it big.  He was definitely familiar with a business rush, but this?  This is a whole other level, and even just being in the midst of it is making him anxious.  Add in the people staring at him and the cameras that he knows are everywhere, it’s a wonder he hasn’t left yet.

But then the door to the women’s restroom opens minutes later, and he remembers why he hasn’t left.  Except now, his pull towards her is even stronger.  Because she’s been crying.  

Her eyes are red and she looks around before wiping them, hoping no one notices.  She takes a deep breath and steps back onto the floor, but stops when she notices Harry.

He realizes now how close he is, and how awkward it must look.  He must look like he has a question, because she instantly gets that false “customer service” smile on her face.  “Hi!” she says through a little giggle, reaching up to wipe at her eyes again.  Her nose is red and shiny, and Harry has the weird urge to reach out and poke at it. He refrains, of course, but it is there.

“Wow! This is embarrassing!” She says, letting out another laugh.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t normally cry on the job.  What can I help you with?”

Harry is in awe of her, really.  He smiles and shakes his head.  “No, nothing.  Uh... you just... I saw what happened.”

He knows she wants to cry more, but she just continues to laugh instead.  “Oh yeah?  Sorry about that.   I’d hoped it wouldn’t cause a scene.”

“No! It didn’t.  Not at all.  I just, erm, wanted to know if you were alright.”

She seems actually shocked at this question, as if no one had asked her how she was in a long time.  And then, for the first time, she gives him a genuine smile.  “Yeah.  I’m alright.  Thank you.”

“People can be downright awful, can’t they?” He says with a chuckle, and her mouth, still in a smile, falls open.  Perhaps she’s shocked that those words came out of Harry “Treat People With Kindness” Styles’ mouth, but he meant them.  “S’not really fair.  Especially not this time of year.”

She giggles, nodding her head.  “Definitely not.  But it’s alright.  Working retail, you kind of get used to it.”  She shrugs, and suddenly Harry is incredibly self-aware and awkward.  Why is he feeling flustered by this girl?

She notices the silence and clears her throat.  “Anyway.  I’m y/n.  Let me know if you need anything, okay?”  

Harry notices the band-aid on her hand just as she turns to walk away.  He knows he wasn’t that close to her before, but he swears she wasn’t wearing that when he first came in.  She must’ve cut herself on the broken glass, and it makes him sad.

And then he remembers the whole reason he came in here in the first place.  “Wait, y/n!”  He steps forward and she turns on her heel.  She’s got her “customer service” face on again, but her smile seems much more genuine this time.  “Actually, if you could... point me in the direction of your hats?”

She smiles, pointing towards a room further back.  “All our men’s styles are right over there!”

“Actually...” He says again.  Why is he nervous talking to her?  He hasn’t felt nervous talking to a girl in ages.  “I’m looking for a woman’s style.”

He swears he sees her face drop for just a split second, and if he’d blinked he would’ve missed it.  “Oh.  Yeah.  Straight back there, past the restrooms.”

He smiles.  “Thank you so much.”

She turns to walk away for the second time but a thought occurs to Harry suddenly.  “Y/n!”

She giggles, turning to him once more.  The smile on her face makes it clear that she’s happy he’s still talking to her.  He adores it.  He wants to stay here and talk to her for hours.

He holds out his hand.  “M’Harry.”

She looks down at his hand in disbelief.  Of course she knows who he is.  Regardless of whether or not she’s a fan-- which Harry is very curious to know-- she’s bound to have heard of him.  She takes his hand, giving it a soft squeeze and a shake.  “I know,” she says with a laugh.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

He never wants to let go of her hand.  He wants to keep holding it and feel her squeeze it like that over and over.  But, god, he’s just met this girl and he doesn’t even know the first thing about her.  So he drops her hand and nods his head.  “S’nice to meet you too.”

-

The second time he comes in is on a Wednesday.  And he’s surprised, really, because even though it isn’t as busy as the last time he was here, there’s still a decent amount of traffic in the store.

Y/n isn’t in the front room, and Harry doesn’t know wether to chuckle or shake his head at himself when he realizes that her absence makes his heart drop.   

He didn’t come here to see her, again, of course.  He came to get another gift.  Though admittedly, he would be lying through his teeth if he said he hadn’t at least wanted to see her.

It had been all he could think about while he was wrapping the hat, and it was almost embarrassing.  The way she’s constantly on his mind, despite having only exchanged a few words with her.  He had caught her name, though, and honestly it had been ringing in his ears, playing on a constant loop in his head-- over and over.  Embarrassingly enough, he’d found himself whispering her name quietly to himself before falling asleep, and smiling at the way it felt in his mouth.  That’s when he knew he had to see her again.

But alas, she isn’t here in the front room, and he’s wondering if he actually came to get a present at all, or if she was what he was really looking for.  

He’s about to ask someone if she’s working today when he feels someone tap his shoulder.  When he turns around, he’s greeted by two young girls, probably no older than fifteen.  Both are smiling ear to ear, and one looks just on the verge of passing out.

“Harry, oh my god... can we get a picture with you?”  Her voice shakes when she asks, and it makes him chuckle a bit.

“‘Course.”  And for a moment, all is forgotten.  He asks the girls how they’re doing, how their days are going.  He tells them its lovely to see them, they tell him how much they love his music.  One of them swears she isn’t going to cry, and he hugs her when she does. 

It’s when he turns to pose for the picture with them that he notices it.  Over at the register, a quick flash of the smile he seems to remember so vividly alerts him of her presence.  He tries his hardest to stay focused on the task at hand, he really does, but damn if his heart doesn’t soar out of his chest when he hears her laugh-- bubbly and light, just like her.

She looks lovely today.  Not that she didn’t look lovely the first time he saw her, of course, but still.  Her hair is perfectly in place, and she looks significantly less stressed than the last time he saw her.  The bandaid is off of her hand now, which he notices when she reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.  She types effortlessly on the register while giggling at a story her coworker is telling her, and its all so excruciatingly adorable.  

Harry holds polite conversation with the fans in front of him but he physically cannot stop his eyes from flicking over to her every now and then.  She still hasn’t noticed him, but he wishes she would.  Though sooner or later, he’s sure she’ll catch on and notice him staring, so he clears his throat and turns back to the young girls.

When the conversation begins to die down and the girls are saying their “thank you”s, he allows himself one more glance in her direction.   And when he does, his body goes hot.

She is looking right back at him with an amused expression on her face. Her lips curl into the daintiest little smile and she quirks her brow at him.  He feels his cheeks go hot, but he smirks at her nonetheless.  He’s got her attention now, and try as he might to stay calm and collected, his stomach is in absolute knots.  What’s he going to say to her? Should he say anything at all?

Once the girls have said their goodbyes they leave the store giggling and scream-whispering about him.  And now he’s there, and he feels like his feet are cemented to the ground.   Y/n seems to be stuck as well, fidgeting with the various items behind the register.  Her coworkers who aren’t currently assisting customers, are whispering, blushing, nudging one another, and its all very awkward because no one knows what it is they’re supposed to do in this situation.

Harry clears his throat and takes a step forward at the same time y/n does, and they both notice this-- causing them to stop in their tracks.  Y/n giggles at this before shaking her head and closing the space between them.  Cautiously, but with purpose nonetheless.

“Harry!” she says.  “Welcome back.  Did you have troubles with the hat?”

Harry swallows when he gets a whiff of her perfume, but he smirks and upholds his suave demeanor.  “No actually.”

“Did she love it?!”  Y/n shows no hint of jealousy when she asks this, but Harry does notice her fidgeting with the ring on her pointer finger.  

He shakes his head.  “Still sitting under the tree, silly.  S’a Christmas present.”

“Oh.”  Y/n giggles again.  One of her coworkers drops something behind the register, and it lands with a thud that causes nearly the entire store to turn.  Y/n shakes her head, and and sighs when she speaks.  “They’re nervous.  They don’t know how to act around you.”

Harry chuckles.  “Around me? Nonsense.  M’a normal guy.  A regular dude.”  Keep it together Harry. 

“A normal guy who gets asked for pictures and autographs just for simply entering a store.”  Y/n nods her head over her shoulder.  “Look at every person in this room right now.”

Harry scans the room and chuckles when he notices that everyone does, in fact, seems to be looking at him.  Even if they’re mid conversation, or holding an item in their hands, or texting.  They’re all looking in his direction.

He shakes his head and turns back to y/n.  “Not lookin’ at me.  Must be you they’re lookin’ at.”

Y/n’s cheeks redden at that, and she glances down for a split second.  The smile on her face is bloody adorable, and Harry can’t believe he’s twitterpated like a damn schoolboy.  She composes herself before he has a chance to say anything else.  “So, what can I help you with today?”

“Another gift.  M’thinking a scarf or like, a dress.  To go-”

“-with the hat.”  They say the last sentence at the same time and now Harry’s cheeks go red hot.  He laughs nervously, raising a hand to run through his hair before adding, “Yeah.  Want to complete the look and all that.”

Y/n clears her throat.  “Well, all our women’s apparel is right down there.”  She points with an open hand towards a room in the back, and Harry’s brain scrambles with any excuses he can make to get her to help him.

“What would you recommend?”

“Hmm?” She looks at him with genuinely curious eyes, and he backpedals.  Don’t come off too strong. 

“I just mean like... what do you think would go nicely with the hat?” Did she even see the hat? Harry thinks back and, shit, no, she hadn’t been the one to ring him up once he bought the hat last time.   He clears his throat.  “It’s black, and uh-”

“It has the buttons on it,” Y/n finishes.  “I remember!”  And now Harry feels stupid.  Y/n giggles.  “Well... uh.... here.”  She starts walking into the women’s apparel room, motioning for Harry to follow.  And he does, like a faithful little puppy just waiting for his treat.

Harry, of course, notices the way her hips swish back and forth when she walks and it makes his lips quirk up in his famous smirk.  His fingers find their way up to tug on his bottom lip to possibly hide this, but there’s no denying that dimple on his cheek.  She looks subtly sexy and impossibly polished and Harry’s mind wanders to what she would look like outside of work clothes.  Maybe bundled up in her winter clothes with a little red nose.  Or sitting on his couch in one of his t-shirts and her hair disheveled from her attempts to keep it out of her face.  Or maybe wearing nothing at all--

“Here.”  Y/n stops walking in front of  a black dress hanging on the rack.  “I really, really like this dress.  You’d think it would be heavy, but its actually not.  I think it would look stunning with that hat.”

It would look stunning on you, Harry thinks.  His mind focuses on her in that dress, and how beautiful she must look in it.

“S’it comfortable?” He tugs at one of the sleeves, trying to determine the material.  As if he knows anything about that.

“I think so, but I’ve only worn it once.  I would imagine that it stays comfy though.” She twists the price tag between her fingers, and lets out the quietest little sigh that Harry would’ve absolutely missed had he not been paying attention.  “It’s quite pricey though.”

Harry’s lips quirk up in an amused little grin.  “I don’t mind all that.”

Her eyes go wide.  “Oh! No, I didn’t mean... I didn’t want to assume... that you couldn’t... I figured you could, I just--”

Harry chuckles, reaching out to touch her arm without thinking about it.  “S’okay, love.  Relax.  I knew what you meant.”

Y/n turns even more red than before, and she bites at  her lip to hide the adorable little smile threatening its way onto her cheeks.  “Sorry.”

Harry has to refrain from reaching out to tilt her chin and make her look at him again.  “Don’t apologize.”  He nods his head towards the dress.  “Why’ve you only worn it once then?  A dress like this deserves to be seen on a beautiful girl all the time.  If I were as beautiful as you are, I’d be wearing it every day.”

This coaxes a giggle out of y/n, and Harry beams.  “You’re a charmer, aren’t you?” She says, through her laughter.  “No, I don’t actually own the dress.”

Harry’s eyebrows do furrow at this.  “What?”

Y/n rolls her eyes, but her smile deepens.  “Like I said... it’s pricey. Even with my discount.” 

It’s then that Harry realizes he hasn’t actually looked at the price once during this conversation.  He glances at the price tag, and his mouth nearly falls open when he sees that the number is far less than he’d been anticipating. It’s money he could spend without even making a dent in his bank account, and of course he realizes that this is because he’s extremely fortunate with his career.  Times like this are when it hits him that he’s not just Harry, out shopping for a Christmas present.  He’s Harry Styles, and he is, in fact, incredibly different.  

He drops the tag and is about to speak when y/n cuts him off.  “Sorry.  God, I’m not even supposed to be talking about that.”  She laughs, and Harry smiles at the way she nervously fidgets with her ring again.  “Anyway! It’s a great dress.  Absolutely worth the price. And it would be gorgeous with that hat.  We have other options, of course, but I feel like this dress was kinda like... made for the hat, ya know?  But I can show you some other options.  Like maybe--”

“Nah, this is good.”  Y/n stops mid sentence, and then raises her eyebrows.

“Alright. What size are we thinking?  A small? Extra small?”

Harry doesn’t know why she automatically assumes that the person he’s shopping for is a small, but he shakes his head. “Mm... no I’d say a medium.  Maybe a large.  She can always exchange it if it doesn’t work, yeah?”

Y/n swallows when Harry mentions the female he’s buying this for, but he doesn’t think twice about this.  “Yeah,” she says.  “She uh... she has 30 days.”

Harry nods.  “Perfect.  Medium it is.”

She smiles.  “Right.  I’ll get that from the back and then ring you up, yeah?  Unless there’s something else you wanted to see.”

You. Tonight.  Cuddled up close in my arms.  “That should do it.”

Y/n seems like there’s something else she wants to say, but she settles for a simple nod of her head.  “Okay.  I’ll be right back.”

And when she disappears into the back to get the correct size for him, he lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.  He glances back at the price tag and lets out a soft little laugh.

He is falling for this girl.

--

The third time he comes in, he’s in a hurry.  And he’s actually hoping that Miss Y/n is not here. 

He hardly even gives the customers a chance to register who he is.  He walks with purpose, his long strides carrying him as fast as they can take him without making him run.  When he reaches the register, he’s almost out of breath.

The girl at the register, a thin young thing with a very pretty smile, seems confused.  “Hello Mr.  Styles.  Is there something--”

“Is y/n working?”  He doesn’t mean to cut her off, but he’s in a hurry.

The young lady-- ‘Bea’ as her nametag reads-- seems taken aback by this.  “Uh...”  She glances at the computer.  “She comes in in about, like, twenty minutes.”

Harry lets out a breath.  “Perfect.  Bea, love, I need your help.”

--

Exactly twenty minutes later and not a moment too soon, Harry is exiting the store with his latest purchase in a bag on his arm just as y/n is entering.  

Her face lights up the minute she sees him, but she furrows his eyebrows when she notices the bag.  She seems almost hurt that he was there without her.  But she brushes it off with a cheerful smile. “Harry... hey!”

Harry is aware of the way people are buzzing around them.  He’s aware of the pictures being taken, and the people nearly crying because he’s right there. He’s aware of all the people he’s going to have to stop and take a picture with after this, and, worst of all, he’s aware of all the rumors that are inevitably going to start flying once people see him talking to a girl.  This is, in no way, how he wanted this to happen.  But he can’t hold off on this any longer.

“When are you off?”

Now y/n doesn’t even try to hide her confusion.  She glances around at all the people who seem to be staring at her, and her fingers find their way up to fidget with her ring once again.  “Uh.. I’m off at 8:30.”

“And Saturday? When are you off then?”

“All day...”  Y/n’s answer seems to end with a question mark. “But I can see if I come in if you’d like.”

“No, no,” Harry says quickly.  “Uh--”  He’s cut off by the flash of a camera, and a little groan escapes past his lips.  “Christ,” he mutters, before nodding his head towards the store.  “Can we talk inside?”

Y/n glances straight at the camera that just went off, and then worriedly back up at Harry.  “Yeah.  I feel like maybe that’s a good idea.”

The tone in her voice makes Harry sad, and he fears he’s screwing this whole thing up.   This isn’t how he wanted to ask her.  He didn’t want to stress her out or, heaven forbid, scare her, but it seems he’s doing all of the above.  

They step inside the store, but y/n doesn’t stop walking, so Harry has no choice but to follow close behind her.  “Sorry,” she says, her voice quiet.  “I’m running a bit late, so I have to clock in.  But what’s wrong?”

“No nothing’s wrong, I just--”

“Did she not like the dress?”  Y/n seems to be in her customer service mode again, all of her anxiety from a few moments ago washing away once she’s at the register.  She types something that Harry doesn’t quite catch, and he’s assuming she’s clocking in.  “Do you need a size smaller?”

“No, no, nothing like that.”  Despite the company outside, Harry thanks his lucky stars that the store isn’t very crowded at the moment.  He leans in a bit closer.  “I was wondering if... you wanted to do something.  With me.  On... when did you say?  Saturday?”

Y/n’s fingers stop moving and she gapes at him.  It takes her a moment to process what he said, and when she does, she lets out a squeak.  “But... but I thought--”

“We can just go see a movie or something.  Or, if you wanted, you could just come over to my place.  No funny business, of course, just figured we might want to avoid all of that.”  He nods his head over his shoulder in regards to the crowd outside the store.

Y/n cocks her head.  “But... your girlfriend...”

Harry makes a face of pure confusion at this, shaking his head the minute the words leave her lips.  “My what?”

“Your girlfriend,” she says slowly.  “The person you’ve been buying all these things for....”

And then it makes sense to Harry.  Everything makes sense. He snorts as realization hits him, and he shakes his head.  “Must have me confused with somebody else, love.  They’re for my sister.”

“Your...”  And now y/n is laughing as well.  She groans and hides her face in her hands.  “Oh my god. I’m an idiot.”

Harry wants to reach out and tug her hands away but instead he reaches up to run a hand through his hair.  He wishes he’d cleared this up sooner, but admittedly this is a bit funny. “You’re not an idiot.  I probably could have told you.”

“I mean, I shouldn’t have assumed.” She lowers her hands, but keeps one of them placed on the the back of her neck.  “God, I’m sorry.”

Harry watches her rub at her neck and thinks just how badly he’d like to kiss the spot below her hand.  He shakes his head.  “Don’t be.”  He leans just a bit closer now, now that he feels he can without making her nervous. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“What?  Oh!” Y/n’s face lights up once more at that.  “Yes! Of course. God, I’d love that.  I’m free all day Saturday so like.. whenever you want.” She giggles, and its the most endearing thing in the world to Harry how nervous she is now.  He feels just as relieved as she feels, no doubt, because now there’s no question in his mind that she’s been crushing on him as well.  “Uh,” she stammers, fidgeting with a pen and a business card.  “You want my number?  Or I can like... get yours, or... something.”

Harry smirks, looking down at her hand that is practically shaking.  “Yeah.  I’ll take yours and I’ll write you tonight.”

She lets out a shaky breath, and Harry can tell she’s trying to suppress the world’s largest grin.  If he’s honest, so is he. “Okay,” she says, scribbling out her number on the back of the card.  “Sorry I... don’t know why I’m like... shaking.” 

He laughs at this.  “You’re nervous?  Around me? A normal guy?  A regular dude?”

She rolls her eyes and finishes writing out her number.  When she hands it to him, he can feel how cold her hands are.  “Here you go,” she says.

“Thanks.”  He tucks it into the shopping back that still hangs from his arm, and when y/n notices that, she nods towards it. 

“What’s that then?”

Harry glances down at the bag and smiles.  When he looks up at her, he can see she’s trying to peek through the tissue paper.  “Another gift for my sister,” he says, pulling it further away from her.  “Nosey little thing.”

Her mouth falls open and he knows she’s about to let forth a slew of apologies, so he cuts her off.  “Have a good shift, love.  And tell your friend Bea thanks for the help.”

---

On Saturday, it snows.  Which, of course it does.  And on any other day, Harry would absolutely advocate for a snow day.  But not today.  No, today he’s spent the entire day worrying that y/n isn’t going to be able to come over due to the snow and the icy roads.

Currently he paces around the kitchen, touching and retouching nearly everything.  His house smells like brownies, his mum’s special Christmas recipe, and the roast sits cooling on the stove.

Tonight, Harry has pulled out all the stops.  Which, now that he thinks about it, may be overkill.  This sends his heart into a tizzy once more because he wants to impress her, of course, but christ, did he have to go to such great lengths?  What if he scares her off?  It’s been a while since he’s done this whole “date” thing, and being Harry Styles he can’t exactly just take her out for a casual night at the movies.  He’d had to take matters into his own hands.

Which reminds him... are his hands clean?  Did he remember to remove the chipped nail polish?  Should he have clipped his nails one more time?

His phone makes a ding noise from it’s spot on the counter and when he sees her name, he grins.  This has been the normal reaction since the first text he’d ever received from her, and it hasn’t gotten old yet.  She’s just as adorable over text as she is in person, and it’s almost intimidating.  She constantly sends just the perfect amount of emojis and, even though Harry himself has never been one to use them, he finds himself growing quite fond of the little yellow smiley’s and pink hearts scattered throughout her messages.  Plus her spelling and punctuation makes the writer in him swoon, but he’s more hesitant to admit to that because it makes him feel like a loser, so he keeps that to himself.

He picks up his phone, using his thumb to punch in the passcode before reading her message.

-Hey, I’m here.  What’s the code for the gate?

It wasn’t even a cute text, but he smiles to himself when he replies.

-2427.  The front door is unlocked,  You can just come right in.

-Are you sure?  Nobody’s going to like, stop me or ask for my ID?

-What do you think this is, Buckingham Palace?  Of course not.

Harry worries that his teasing doesn’t translate well, so he quickly adds:

-Would it make you feel better if I met you in the driveway?

When her text comes moments later, he can’t help but snort.

-Who do you think I am? The Queen of England?  I don’t need any escort.  😂 -See you soon 😌

And suddenly, Harry’s nerves come back.  He looks around the house.  It’s enormous, and it’s clean, but is it clean enough?  Had he spent enough time vacuuming the carpet?  He straightens one of the pillows on his couch, and then straightens it again.  Fuck, it’s not good enough.  

Is it good enough?

He doesn’t have any more time to overthink when he hears the front door open. Y/n clears her throat before calling out a soft, “Hello?”  And it makes the nerves completely disappear.  

He turns the corner of the living room to find her standing in his doorway, shaking little white snowflakes off of her boots. She’s got a black beanie with a fuzzy little ball on the end adorned atop her head, as well as fingerless black gloves, and it’s all so cute that Harry has to resist the urge to go up and kiss her nose (which is red and undoubtedly cold).

“Hey you.”  He smiles as he walks towards her, and he hears her say a quick “hello” While he wraps her up in his arms.  Her coat is cold to the touch, and he notices a few snowflakes along the wool.  When he pulls away, he asks, “Still snowing?”

“It just started up again,” she says with a nod, peeling off her gloves.  “So it’s not too bad just yet.  But yeah.  It’s snowing.”

“Nice,” Harry says, watching as she starts to peel off the jacket next.  “I love the snow.”

“Me too.”  She shoves the gloves into the pocket of her jacket and then holds the jacket awkwardly in her hands.  She doesn’t know where she’s supposed to put it.  He takes it immediately and walks to hang it up in his closet.  In the meantime, she stands, twisting the ring on her finger in her hands, over and over and over again. 

This is all so awkward but in the loveliest way; like he wants to drink in their silence because its *theirs* but he also wants to say something- anything- to keep things going. 

Fuck, he’s not even making sense in his own head. 

He clears his throat.  “Were the roads bad then?”

“Not too much.  Not yet anyway.  Hopefully they’ll stay that way.”

“Well if not, I’ve got room for you to stay.”  

Did he say that? God, why did he say that?!  That sounds like he’s trying to make advances on her.  And sure, he’d love if she stayed but he doesn’t mean it in a perverted way, and christ, it most definitely came out that way.  He won’t blame her if she walks out right now.  And--

“Thank you.”  He hardly dares to look at her, but out of his peripheral vision he can see her cheeks are red and fuck, its cute.  She giggles a little before swiftly changing the subject.  “Something smells delicious!”

“Yeah?”  He smiles, thankful that she’s changed the subject.  He motions for her to follow him into the kitchen. “I made a roast.  And there’s brownies in the oven.”

She gasps.  “Harry, oh my god.  You should’ve told me! I would’ve brought something.”

“Didn’t have to bring anything, love.  I invited you, and this is a date, innit?  Aren’t I supposed to be the one to do the impressing?”

Y/n is quiet for a moment, taking in the size of his house with eyes the size of golf balls.  It’s gorgeous and massive and unlike anything she’s ever seen.  “Well you’ve certainly done a good job,” she says softly.  And now Harry really feels like this is all overkill.  He’s about to say something when she speaks again, “I still feel bad.  But thank you. This is amazing.”

“Of course.”  He smiles softly, walking over to the fridge to offer a drink.  “Just happy you could make it.”

For the next 30 minutes, they just talk.  And it gets less and less awkward with every passing minute.  In fact, its completely normal by the time they’re sitting on his couch, with full plates resting on their laps, and y/n with her socked feet-- crossed at the ankle-- resting on his coffee table.

She continuously compliments his food, and he continuously turns an embarrassing shade of red.  Because he did try.  He tried his hardest, really, and she loves it.

She talks to him about work and it all feels so casual and domestic and natural.  He genuinely cares about her and her struggles with retail, and school, and her family life, and they both seem to forget the reality of the situation-- that he’s Harry Styles and she’s in his mansion, drinking his egg nog with her feet up on his coffee table that is probably worth thousands of dollars. 

And after dinner, she helps him with the dishes.  She rinses them and loads the washer while Harry cuts the brownies and talks about his life-- his actual, real life story before he became this massive sensation.  She listens and asks questions, and he forgets nearly everything else except for her and this moment.  Her smile, her laugh, her voice.  

It’s an hour and a half later when Harry finally makes a move.

They’re on his couch, watching Christmas films.  Although truthfully, they’re hardly watching because they keep getting wrapped up in conversation.  Sharing memories from their childhood.  Laughing at hilarious jokes the other tells.  Feeling buzzed off of Christmas cheer and all that.

It’s when she giggles at Chevy Chase’s line in the film they’re watching. ”When Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he’s gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse!”  She leans in ever so slightly, her body nudging close to his while her belly laugh overpowers her.  Its the cutest fucking thing Harry thinks he’s ever seen, even if his whole body seems to ignite when she leans into him. 

When she doesn’t make any type of effort to scoot away, he starts to think that maybe she’s done it on purpose.

Her body feels warm against his own, and he’s getting a much stronger whiff of her perfume-- or maybe her shampoo.  He’s nervous.  God, he’s so nervous... but surely she wouldn’t be leaning into him like this if she didn’t mean to right?

She giggles again and this time, her hand brushes against his knee.  And that’s when he knows.  He chuckles along with her (because admittedly, Chevy Chase is one funny bastard) and allows his arm to slink around her shoulders. Then down her back.  And then around her side.

And now they’re cuddling.

Her bottom lip finds its way between her teeth for just a brief moment, and her eyes wander.  She’s happy he did this..  At least, she seems happy.  He gives her a little squeeze as if to test the waters, and, although her eyes never once leave the screen, she reaches over to interlace her fingers with his.

She’s happy. 

She scoots impossibly closer and closer by the minute and Harry wants to kiss her.  He really, really wants to kiss her. To feel her lips between his own.  Maybe her tongue.  Inhale that scent, taste that giggle, kiss that smile. And he thinks maybe he’s going to... that is, until the TV gets all fuzzy.

He halts his movements (which up until now have only been stroking his thumb softly against her skin and glancing in her direction every now and then) to glance at the TV.

“Uh oh,” y/n giggles.  “It says poor satellite connection.”

“No way,” Harry says, reluctantly unwrapping himself from her to stand up.  “It wasn’t snowing that hard, was it?”

As he makes his way to the TV, y/n glances at her phone. “Well, that was three and a half hours ago when I first got here.  We haven’t even checked outside.”

Harry is poking and prodding at the cable box, as if he has any idea what he’s doing. “Hasn’t been that long.. has it?”

“Yeah man,” she says.  “It’s 10:30.”

“Jesus.”  Harry mutters curse words under his breath while he touches the wires.  Mostly, he’s upset because of how late it is.  That means she’s going to want to leave soon. 

Moments later, a gasp, and her voice saying “Harry, look!” draws his attention. When he turns to her she’s at the window, peeking through the blinds.  He walks over to her and it feels good to be that close to her again.  He takes a risk and puts his hand on her hip, which she happily relaxes into, before taking a look through the blinds.

It’s snowing.  Hard.  The ground is covered in a thick layer of white, and the air seems fogged up with the little snowflakes. This isn’t a snowfall all tender and mild.  This is a snowstorm.

“It’s so pretty,” she breathes.

Alright, so Harry is being dramatic.  It isn’t a storm per se, but it’s still more snow than he’s seen in a while.  And he instantly has to shoot down the tinge of excitement that burns in his chest that maybe, just maybe, she’ll end up snowed in at his place for the night. 

“So pretty, innit?”  Harry asks softly, tearing his eyes away from the white snow to look at her.  Her, in her soft little sweater.  Her face a beautiful shade of reddish pink-- half from the soft lights in his house and half from her natural shyness.  Why she’s shy, Harry hasn’t the foggiest idea, but he intends to break her of that if she lets him.

“It’s actually really romantic” she says softly, her cheeks quirking up into the softest smile. 

“Yeah.”  Harry isn’t looking at the snow now.  He’s looking at her, and she knows it. “Comin’ down pretty hard though.”

She ignores his last statement and turns to him, biting her lip as if hesitant to say what she’s about to say.  “Have you ever kissed in the snow?”

“Hmm?”  He’s taken aback by her question. 

“I just mean like... you know how people make kissing in the rain into such a huge deal?”

Harry thinks back to the one and only time he’d ever kissed in the rain.  It had hardly been romantic at all, really.  Mostly it had been wet, and it had made his clothes feel gross against his skin.  Not to mention his at-the-time girlfriend’s hair had become wet and stringy and gotten stuck on his mouth and his cheeks.  As much of a sucker for romcoms as Harry is, he’d never recommend a rain-kiss to anyone.  

But still, he nods.  “Yeah.”

“Well like... what about a snow kiss?”

And Harry can’t help but smile at this.  “You ever had a snow kiss?” 

“No!” she says.  “And that’s what I’m saying.  I think it would be romantic, you know?”

Harry, getting a sudden burst of confidence, wiggles his eyebrows. “Are you lookin’ for an excuse to kiss me?

He revels in the way her cheeks turn red and her voice gets quieter, but she stands her ground and surprises him with a snort.  “I mean, duh.  I figured all those hints I was dropping were obvious.”

It’s his turn to turn ruby red.  He’s shocked really. Her voice was quiet when she spoke, and she’d looked everywhere but at his eyes (or his lips), but she was smirking and subtly scratching her nails on his back when she’d said it.  Fuck.  How did he find himself such a little firecracker, who could both dish it out and take it?  

“Didn’t have to drop hints, you know,” he says, pouting a bit.  “Could’ve just done it.”

“I wanted it to be perfect.”

“Wouldn’t have been perfect just sitting together cuddling?”

She giggles, shaking her head.  “No.  Had to make it as absolutely cheesy as possible.”

Harry is smirking now, pulling her in closer and giving her hips the slightest little squeeze.  “Oh did you?”

She smirks right back, leaning close enough that he can feel her warmth but just out of his lip’s reach.  “Mhmm.  Tis the season and all that.”

Harry snorts, giving her side a little squeeze.  “Right.  Get bundled up then.  We’re going outside.”

He laughs at the way her jaw drops when he lets go of her and starts walking towards the hall closet.  “What?”

“You heard me. C’mon then.”

“I mean, we don’t actually have to have our first kiss in the snow--”

“Actually we do.”  Harry opens up the closet and starts removing her coat from the hanger.  “Know why?”

She doesn’t answer him, she only steps closer to him.  So he continues.

“Because you wouldn’t have brought it up if you didn’t think it.”

She starts stammering, but she’s beaming from ear to ear.  “I mean, I was kind of kidding about making it as cheesy as possible, but--”

“None of that,” he says, pushing her coat towards her.  “You want cheesy?  I can show you cheesy.”

She hesitates before taking the coat with a shake of her head.  “You’re nuts.”

“Thank you.  Want to borrow a scarf?”

Its a few minutes later when Harry and y/n trudge outside, their shoes crunching through the snow a bit loudly.  Harry’s lucky he lives in the gated community he lives in, but just in case, he takes y/n’s hand and leads her around the back of the house.

“Never snows like this in LA,” Harry says quietly.  “You’re right, it is romantic.”

Y/n giggles nervously, letting him lead her.  She’s definitely wondering what she’s gotten herself into, and if Harry’s honest, so is he.  When they get to a private spot, Harry lets go of her hand.

She thinks he’s going to kiss her, and her stomach fills with a wave of nervousness.  “Harry, I--”

“Hold on,” he says, turning away from her.  “Have to make this proper cheesy, don’t I?”

Y/n watches in confusion while he takes a few steps away from her, then stops and turns on his heels.  She snorts when he wiggles his eyebrows at her and steps with a wonky half step, half dance move maneuver towards her.   “Hey girl.”

“Harry oh my god.”  

He wiggles a bit closer to her.  “Heard you’d never been kissed in the snow.”

Y/n is having a proper giggle fit now, and its making Harry want to laugh too.  Still, he keeps up his act.  “As it just snow happens, I’ve never been kissed in the snow either.”

“HARRY.”  She snorts and steps away from him at his awful pun.

“I knew I wanted to kiss you... at frost glance.”  He reaches out for her.  “I feel like fate... sled us to this moment.”

“Oh my god.  Alright enough with the puns.”  But she’s giggling, and Harry is thriving. 

He continues wiggling his hips the closer he gets to her.  “There’s snow easy way to say this... but--”

He’s cut off when y/n throws a snowball-- or what wishes it was a snowball-- at him.  It lands with a thud against his chest and breaks, a few of the icy pieces hitting his chin.  His jaw drops and she laughs.

“Sorry,” she says.  “I can’t take any more snow puns.”

Harry takes a moment, and it makes y/n a little nervous when he smirks.  “That was very Rudolph you...”

And before y/n even has time to react, Harry’s scooping up snow and tossing it at her.  She shrieks, trying to dodge the ball that comes her way.  “No!”

“Yes,” Harry says back, already scooping up his next snowball.  “You started this.  Could’ve just taken my puns, but you had to throw a fit, and now look at where we are.”

Y/n shrieks again, dodging his grasp and trying to scoop up a bit of snow in her own gloved hands.  She reaches for him, trying to shove it down the back of his jacket-- which in turn makes him groan through his laughter.  “Fuck, s’cold!” He whines. 

“That’s what you GET!” She says loudly, followed by a squeal and a slew of ‘NO NO NO’s when Harry grabs her jacket and does the same thing to her. 

They continue like this for the next few minutes, and Harry doesn’t even have time to think, once more, about how incredibly easy it is to be around her. He’s not even thinking about how he hasn’t laughed this loud or this long in quite a while, and he isn’t thinking about how he’s told this girl so much in just one night.  He’s not even worried.  He wants her to know everything.  He wants to spend every single night like this.  For a long, long time.

She giggles, tripping a bit on her own boots and plopping with a thud into the snow.  He follows suit, falling beside her with a grunt and a loud laugh. (But not without shoving a bit more snow onto her and under her coat onto her bare tummy-- to which she shrieks.)

He laughs, reaching over and taking her hips in his hands and guiding her gently on top of him.  She obliges instantly, swinging a leg over and straddling him.  She sits on his hips while he remains laying on the snow, and she smirks down at him.

 This could easily turn sexual, of course, and Harry is acutely aware of that fact.  But right now, she looks so bloody beautiful with snow in her hair and snowflakes in her eyelashes and her nose red and shiny, that he doesn’t care.  This is all so like a cheesy Christmas film and it makes Harry’s stomach churn a bit, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Cheesy enough for you?” He asks, raising his eyebrows and giving both of her arms a bit of a squeeze.

She rolls her eyes, but breaks into the biggest smile he’s ever seen.  “The perfect amount.”

He smiles, wiggling a bit so he can sit up on his elbows.  “Excellent.  Kiss me.”

Her bottom lip tucks up in between her teeth once more, and he immediately softens the request with a “please.”

When she giggles, he knows he’s got her.  And when he leans in, he doesn’t even have time to register anything that’s going on.  Her mouth is on his, and its the most incredible thing he’s felt in a while. 

The kiss is exactly how he’d expected it to be.  Soft, but with a bit of a kick to it-- just like her. Her tongue, hot and warm, peeking ever so slightly between her lips and then retreating back into her own mouth as if asking him to do the work.  Although both of their eyes are closed, he knows she’s smiling because he can feel it.  The thought of her smiling through this makes his heart flutter, and in turn, makes him smile as well.  God, he wanted this more than he’d let himself realize.

His hands find their way from her arms, to her hips, then up under her coat to scrach lightly (and innocently, mind you) up her back.  She shivers when his cold fingertips come in contact with her skin, and he chuckles out a quick “sorry” before bringing his fingers back out of her coat.  She only giggles, reaching up to scratch affectionately at his scalp, and-- god, Harry is putty for this girl.

She breaks the kiss moments later, with a soft breath and a whisper of “Sorry.”  They both open their eyes and, even though they’re only looking at one another by the light of the moon, they know their cheeks are both crimson.  Y/n looks down.  “I’m just.. so cold.”

Harry laughs at this, sitting completely up but keeping his hands on her hips to ensure she stays seated on him.  “Yeah?  Had your fill of kissing in the snow?”

She nods.  “Mm.  But... not of kissing in general.  Not of kissing you.”

Harry beams at that, brushing his nose against hers and kissing her again.  “Me neither, love.  Not at all.”

They scramble apart then, untangling themselves from one another and trudging hand in hand back into his house.  When they stand in his entry way peeling their wet clothes off of each other, they continue to share soft, blissful kisses and giggles.  (Not, of course, without Harry telling her that this is definitely snow laughing matter.  Which earns him a slap to the arm.)

They maneuver their way back into his living room, shivering and laughing and kissing, and the minute Harry plops onto the couch he pulls her onto him so she’s once more straddling him.

They stay like that for quite some time.  Harry’s hands comb their way through her damp hair and his lips find their warmth between her own.  She scratches at the hair at the nape of his neck which causes and embarrassing little groan to escape from his lips and a grin to appear on her own. 

It’s when her lips make their way to his neck that Harry knows he’s in trouble.  

“Oh god,” he says softly, tilting his head to allow her easier access when her lips brush his sweet spot. “Y/n if you’re not careful you’re--”

“I’m what?” she breathes, her wet lips ghosting against the bottom of his ear.  “Going to turn you on?”

“You already have,” he practically growls, taking her hips in his hands once more.  They move effortlessly so that she’s laying on her back now, and he’s hovering above her.  It’s his turn to love on her neck.  “Since the first time I saw you.”

“Oh god,” she says with a smile.  “We don’t talk about that first time.”

Harry’s head pops up when she says this, and he shoots her a confused look.  “Why not?”

“You came on what was possibly the worst day you could’ve come,” she says through a laugh.   “I was a wreck that day.”

“Didn’t seem that way to me.”  Harry leans down to kiss her neck, just on her pulse, and her back arches ever so slightly.  He makes a note to do more of that.  “You were beautiful.”  He kisses just below her ear.  “Are beautiful.”

“Mmm.”  Y/n sighs, her hand reaching up to tug at his hair while she closes her eyes and leans into his lips.  “It wasn’t a good day at all until you came in.”

“Guess it all worked out then, didn’t it?”  Harry kisses the sweet spot once more, and hears her breath hitch in her throat. “S’that feel good?”

“Yeah,” she breathes.  Her hand scratches its way from the nape of his neck down his back, and he nearly hisses.  Oh god, he can feel himself getting harder.

One hand travels slowly, cautiously, down her stomach and traces along the waistband of her pants.  He can feel her take in a breath, and she rolls her hips as if hoping to get some friction.  Does she want this as badly as he does?

“Love,” he says slowly, pulling away to look down at her.  “You can tell me to stop, alright?  If you’re not feeling this... if it’s too much--”

She cuts him off by grabbing the back of his head and pulling his face down to hers so she can fasten their lips together once more.  Her tongue makes it’s way into his mouth, bold and a bit rough, and he loves it.  He practically drinks it in, involuntarily moaning into her mouth and pulling her hips closer to his.

When she pulls away, she’s smiling up at him.  “It’s not too much.”

Harry takes those words as his starting gun, although he does move cautiously.  He sits up a bit and reaches down to work on the buttons of her jeans.  “This okay?” He asks, eyeing her closely for any sign of discomfort.  

All he sees, however, is a smile that he cannot resist kissing once again, and eyes that are practically begging him to touch her.  

When he pulls out of the kiss she nods.  “Yes.  It’s okay.”

“Fuck.”  Harry doesn’t even know why he says that word.  Maybe its because of how badly he wants to touch her.  Because he can’t believe he’s got someone so lovely, so soft, so sweet, laying out below him, asking him to touch her and make her feel good.   

He tugs on her jeans and she helps him, raising her hips so that he can maneuver them off of her.  He’s met with the sexiest pair of black lace underwear he thinks he’s ever seen, and he swears he could start drooling.

“Christ,” he says, running his hand through his hair.

“Came prepared,” she says, matter of factly, and he doesn’t know if he wants to kiss her or make her cum right then and there. 

“You were expecting this then?”

She blushes.  “I was hoping.”

He smirks at that, leaning down to kiss her.  “So was I.”

He takes his pointer and middle finger and tests the waters, rubbing against the already damp fabric of the lace between her legs, and she arches her back.  He leans forward to kiss at the pulse in her neck while continuing the movement with his fingers, and he feels himself twitch when he finally coaxes a moan out of her.

“Fuck,” she says.  “What about you?”

“Don’t have to worry about me if you don’t want to,” he says with a shake of his head.  And he genuinely means it.  He wants her to feel good and sexy and incredible, but he also wants her comfortable.  Of course this isn’t the reason he invited her over tonight, and he wants-- needs -- her to know that.

Still, she reaches for him.  She tucks her hand into the waistband of his jeans and gasps when she feels his length through his boxers. He hisses at the contact and cannot help but let the word “baby” slip from his mouth.

“You’re so big,” she says quietly, and it sounds like the statement is almost ending in a question.  

He kisses her in response to that, picking up the pace with his fingers between her legs.  He moves his hand to tuck into her own waistband and she moans into his mouth.

And then there they are-- rubbing at one another on the couch like horny teenagers just discovering what all of this is.  Harry thanks God, his lucky stars, and everything else that has led him up to this moment with her.  Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed he’d have the chance to do this-- but he is so, so happy he does. 

He shimmies out of his pants and his boxers and they flip once more, so that he’s the one on his back and she’s straddling him once again.  She keeps her body pressed to his, with the only thing separating them being their hands while they rub and stroke and caress at one another.  The television is still cut off due to the snow, so the only thing that can be heard are his groans her soft little whines every now and then. 

He circles her clit with his fingers and pays special attention to what makes her cry out.  Although admittedly, it is a bit hard to focus when she’s tugging at him the way that she is. 

She lets out a noise that would put a porn star to shame, and Harry smirks.  “That good, huh?”

“Fuck I want you,” she says.  “Please.. I’m... I know this isn’t... I know it’s only our first date but--”

He cuts her off with a kiss.  “None of that.   If you want it, I want it.”  He squirms a bit so that he’s laying flat on his back before moving the fingers of his free hand.  “Baby, sit on my face.”

Her jaw drops and she stops moving her hips against his fingers so suddenly that he almost worries he said something wrong.  Almost.

“What?!” she says.  “I was just gonna say I wanted you, but--”

“I want you, too,” he says, matter of factly.  “I want you more than anything in this world right now.  And I want that pussy on my face.  Please.”

Her cheeks are red and she swallows so harshly its audible.  “Harry I--”

"What?” He stops rubbing at her clit then, and uses the fingers on his free hand to trace up her arm. He’s nervous now.  The last thing he wants is to pressure her.  “Is that too much?”

“God, NO!” she says quickly.  “Fucking hell, no, not at all.  I’ve never wanted anything more.  I just... are you sure?”

“Course I’m sure,” he says, giving her a reassuring little smile and a nod of his head. “Please, darling.”

It’s the way he says darling-- so sweet, like honey dripping off of his lips, that gets her.  She obliges, then, but first mutters a quick, “hold on.”  

She swings a leg off of him and he whines at the loss of contact.  That is, until he watches her wiggle out of her panties while standing on the couch beside him.  He smirks at her when she glances at him, and she looks down at the black lace in her hands wondering what she’s supposed to do with it before deciding to just discard of them on the carpet.  

She moves up towards his head and swings a leg around once more, but this time she’s facing the other way.  He wants to ask why, but he’s silenced when she gently lowers herself down towards his lips.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.  “I’ve never... sat on a face before.”

Harry gives her clit a quick, rewarding little flick with his tongue and she gasps.  “Doing a fucking good job of it,” he says against her skin.  One hand reaches up to grab at her hips in hopes of steadying her, while his other hand reaches down to stroke at himself.

She’s a whimpering mess almost immediately, rolling her hips against his tongue and gasping every time it finds its way inside of her.  Harry reckons he could stay just like this for the rest of the evening, licking and sucking at her and making her cum as many times and as many ways as possible, without wanting anything in return.

And then he feels her give him a slow, hard, tug.

He whimpers against her when she feels her hands against his cock, and she smirks.  “What?” She asks innocently.  “I wasn’t gonna let you have all the fun.”

He presses a kiss to her clit and moves ever so slightly just so he can speak coherently to her.  “Do that again, but faster... fuck, please.  Please faster.”

 She obeys, tugging and stroking him like a pro for the next few minutes.  Every time her thumb brushes against his slit he groans, and he has to stop himself from begging her to do it again and again and again.  Instead, he buries himself in his work, so to speak, flicking his tongue against her and wrapping his lips around her clit. Her noises are louder than his and it makes this whole situation that much fucking hotter to him.  

Harry doesn’t know how much time has passed but he knows that he’s starting to get that familiar burn in his belly, and he gulps at the feeling.

“Good girl,” he says against her skin, and he twitches when he notices a shiver run down her spine.  “That’s such a good fucking girl.  Oh my god.”  He halts his movements at the next swipe of her thumb.  “Love, I’m... I’m close.”

“Gonna cum?” She asks, although she’s nearly as breathless as he is. She squeezes tighter, using her free hand to squeeze at his balls.  He howls beneath her, holding on to her hips to steady her so that he doesn’t throw her off.  Although he can’t see her face, he knows she’s smirking.  “You like that, don’t you?”

She does it again and again and soon he’s coming, thick and hot.  She is obstructing his view but he can feel it all over his stomach, and his hips, and on what he’s assuming is her hand.  It’s almost embarrassing, but its altogether sexy.  And he knows he has to absolutely ravish her.

And so he does.  He takes both hands against her hips now and squeezes, holding her tightly in place and moving at a relentless pace with his tongue.  She shrieks and gasps, trying to buck her hips or at least move at all, but he’s squeezing so tightly that she’s absolutely stuck there to revel in the way his lips suck and swirl against her clit.

“Harry,” she whimpers, her voice shaking.  “Fuck fuck.. holy FUCK!”

“Go on then,” he says against her skin.  “Gonna make a mess on my tongue?  Hm?  Gonna let me taste you?”

“Har-RY.”  She grabs for anything she can.  His hair, the back of his couch,  his overly sensitive cock, until suddenly she can’t even do that.  Suddenly she’s moaning, whimpering, crying, while her eyes squeeze shut, and she’s feeling the best she’s felt in ages.  

She continuously chants a chorus of both his name and curse words, her voice crescendoing until even Harry is worried that his neighbors-- however far away their house is-- may hear.

And when she finally comes down, she’s exhausted.  She lets out a noise that sounds half like a breath, and half like a groan, and suddenly Harry needs to exert more strength to hold her body upright. She pants and shivers and lets excess little cries escape her mouth like aftershocks, and he begins to wonder if she’ll ever have the strength to get off of him.

They seem to have that thought at the same time, because suddenly she lets out a weak giggle and wiggles her way off of him, muttering a soft “Sorry.” 

Harry feels absolutely and completely fucked out, and he’s a little cold now because she’s not on top of him.  (And not to mention, he’s embarrassed at the sight of his naked torso covered in his own cum.)  But he’s enamored and cannot stop watching her as she wiggles her way back into her panties. “Don’t apologize,” he says softly.  “That was fucking great.”  He reaches out for her hand and gives it a squeeze.

For one sweet, lovely moment, they don’t say or do anything.  They stand there, holding one another’s hands and taking in the fact that, oh god, they just did that. And then she’s looking worriedly at the window, and then back at him, before dropping his hand to twist at the ring on her finger.

He sits up a bit, becoming more and more uncomfortable with the fact that he hasn’t cleaned himself up yet.  “What?”

“Its just...”  She sighs.  “It’s late.”

“Is it?” he teases, cocking his head.

“Yeah.  And I think.. I mean... I guess--”

“If you think m’letting you drive on those roads at an hour like this after all that, you’re crazy, young lady.”

Her face seems to light up ever so slightly at this, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask that.  “But I don’t want to impose, and I--”

“You’re not imposing.  I swear.  My bed is big enough for two.”  The minute he says that, all of his nerves from earlier seem to come flooding right back, so he quickly adds, “So is my guest room.  I have a few guest beds that are quite comfortable.”

“NO!” She says, almost too quickly.  She quickly bites her bottom lip into her mouth and twists her ring.  That damn cute little ring. “I mean I’d.. I... want to sleep in your room.  With you.”

Harry doesn’t even know why but he feels his whole heart soften at this.  “Thank God,” he says quietly, making her giggle.  

He stands up, walking briskly to the bathroom to clean off.  “I’ve an idea,” he says over his shoulder. “You head into the upstairs bathroom.  It’s the first door on the right at the top of the stairs, you can’t miss it.  We’ll both clean up, and you can meet me in my room.  Its right across from the bathroom. 

“Are you sure?”  

Harry doesn’t answer her, even though he heard her, because yes he’s sure.  He’s never been more sure of anything in his life.  He wants this girl in his room.  He wants this girl to make herself at home.  He wants this girl to stay.

A little under ten minutes later, Harry walks into his bedroom to find her sitting in his bed.  She’s wearing the shirt that she came over in and her panties, except now she’s taken all of her makeup off and her hair is tied back.  The sight makes his heart flutter nearly out of his chest, but he hardly even has time to register that feeling before she’s nodding towards the bag in his hand.  “What’s that?”

He’d nearly forgotten.  This bag had been under his tree the whole time, and he’d meant to give it to her earlier before they’d gotten a bit carried away.  He beams at her.  “Your Christmas present.”

Her eyes go wide.  “Oh my god, what?! Harry... I didn’t... I mean I wasn’t--”

“I know,” he says, crawling up onto the bed beside her.  “And I didn’t expect you to do anything for me.  This is for you, because... well,  I know you love it.”

She sits staring at him for a moment, which makes him snort and push the bag a little closer to her.  “For goodness sake open it!” he says.  “The suspense is killing me.”

She rolls her eyes, hesitantly taking the bag in her hands and bringing it closer to her.  “I’ll get you back for this, I swear,” she says, shaking her head.  She tears into the paper of the bag and is about to say something else, when she stops dead in her tracks.

After a few seconds of silence she looks up at him.  “You did not.”

“Did I not?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.  “I might have...”

She reaches into the bag and pulls out the dress.  The one from work that she’d had her eye on since before she’d even technically started there.  The one that would be far too expensive for her, even with her discount.  The most perfect dress she’d ever seen.

Her eyes well up with tears almost immediately.  “Harry, I--”

“Do you like it!?” he asks, beaming.  “The girl at the shop said she loved it.  Said it was her favorite.  Said it was stunning.  So I thought it would look stunning on you.”

Y/n runs her fingers along the fabric, feeling as though she could break it if she touched it too hard.  “I don’t know what to say,” she breathes, wiping a tear from her eye.  “You didn’t have to...”

“I know I didn’t,” he says with a nod.  “I wanted to.  A lot.”  Silence follows for a few moments and Harry watches her intently.  “Do you like it?”

Instead of verbally answering him, y/n throws her arms around him, squeezing him so tightly they both fall back onto the bed.  Harry laughs when y/n covers his whole face in kisses, and showers him in “thank you”s and “oh my god”s.  His heart feels so complete.  More complete than its felt in a while, and hearing how happy she is is warming his heart more than he’d ever even anticipated.

He is really falling for this girl.

Shortly after, she’s asleep in his arms.  Her head is on his chest and she’s letting forth the softest, daintiest little snores Harry think’s he’s ever heard.  Its so cute he feels he could burst, and he almost doesn’t want to sleep just so that he can lay here and feel this happy for the rest of his life.

Still, he feels himself drifting.  So with one last glance outside to check on the snow, and with one last kiss to this beautiful girl’s head, he allows himself to drift off to sleep, thanking his lucky stars that he’d decided to buy a hat for his mum for Christmas. 

#Harry Styles #Harry #One Direction #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #One Direction fluff #fluff #Harry Styles smut #Harry smut #One direction smut #smut #Harry Styles oneshot #Harry oneshot #One Direction oneshot #Oneshot #Harry Styles preference #Harry preference #One Direction preference #preference #Harry Styles imagine #Harry imagine #One Direction imagine #imagine