#hazza blurbs

[the-man-in-the-suit-official]

You’ve Become My Ceiling.

-Summary: Following a split, you rise to stardom on your own with a tune.

Reader pronouns: Any

Length: Short

TW: Angst, Heavy lyrics, Abandonment, Brief mention of death of a father (heart attack), Strained relationships, Cheating, Lovebombing, Yelling, Cursing

Celebrities: Harry Styles

Song(s) to listen to: The Gold - Manchester Orchestra & Phoebe Bridgers

You’d loved him since he was 15. Before he was the sex god media made him out to be. Before he even knew what to do with his too-long limbs, before he grew into them.

The stupid posh school you went to - driving past it was now more of a chore. You both were different. He was different.

In the span of four years, you’d found Harry tangled in bed with various people - men, women, everything in between.

In the span of your two year relationship, you’d found him tangled with five.

Each time pleads and showers of love fixed the spaces in between for him. White lies of apologies littered your ceiling as he slept next to you, huddled into his fetal position. You began to care less and less that the blanket didn’t cover him, that he was shivering, missing the warmth of being spooned.

Your love was collapsing.

You felt yourself growing distant now, though he didn’t realize it. He still smiled at you the same, insisting through his lovebombs that you were the one for him.

Dinner was silent once again, Harry scrolling through his phone before he smiled sharply, “Hey. Remember this?”

He turned the phone to you, revealing a picture of the two of you in chemistry class, then another of him holding a beaker with purple liquid in it.

It brought a smile to your face, and for an split second, you believed that it really could have gotten better. Then a message appeared on his phone. Some girl again.

“I think you’ve got a message, H,” You looked down at your plate again, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore.

“Oh.” He glanced at it and his face dropped, reading it over, “‘S just a friend.”

“Mhm,” You drank your coffee slowly, it feeling thicker than it had ever before.

“Thank you for trusting me, (Y/N),” He smiled again, “You’re the best.”

You repeated yourself.

He was gone that night. Hadn’t even invited you out. Again, you stared at the ceiling, pondering.

Why is he still with me?

To your knowledge, you were just some kid he’d met as a teen. Then it hit you. You were the only thing that remained of his past. Fuck.

What were you going to do? Without him, you’d return home to either your mother or your estranged father. Either way, you’d be miserable.

As if on cue, the phone rang. Your stepmother. This night was turning out great, wasn’t it?

Picking it up with cold fingers, you sighed, “Hello?”

The next few words made you freeze. It was the last thing you’d expect.

“He’s in the hospital.”

Her words persisted, “A heart attack, honey. He’s okay. He’s just recovering now. Wants to know if he can see you.”

“Of course,” Was all that you could muster out, “I’ll be there tomorrow night.”

Harry didn’t come home the next morning. Calling him, you sighed when no response but a voicemail came.

The attempted calls lasted until 1PM, when all your anger vocalized itself, “God, Harry!”

You spoke to the voicemail, “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?! You’re lying to yourself, saying you love me when you’re addicted to fucking anyone but me! Sex crazy, that’s what you are, you stupid idiot! My dad is in the hospital and if you’re not here in an hour, I’m leaving your ass. I need to be with him, with or without you.”

An hour rolled around and nothing changed but the state of your packed bags. The photo of you and Harry on the nightstand stuck out to you like a sore thumb. Almost against your own mind, you packed it, too, leaving another voicemail.

“We’ll talk about this when I get home.”

You did everything on autopilot, reaching for a your notepad and pen on the plane. You hadn’t really grieved the failing of your relationship until then, believing that maybe you could do something about it. But you knew better now.

Lyrics flooded out of you, your eyes welling with tears more and more with every pen stroke.

Couldn’t really love you anymore.

You’ve become my ceiling.

I don’t think I love you anymore.

That fame that stardom gold gold mine changed you.

Miner themed. It suited your soot-covered love, the way you hid in metaphorical caves or his shadow.

You don’t have to hold me anymore.

Our love Our cave’s collapsing.

Squinting, you sighed. The stress was too much to bear. Why did it have to be you if all people? Why couldn’t it be someone else’s father, someone else’s doomed love?

I don’t want to be me anymore.

Your pushed the notepad into your pocket, letting the tears spill as you sat alone in your airplane seat.

Your father’s new kids ran toward you, jumping at you with smiles on their faces, “(Y/N)! (Y/N)!”

Your eyes were puffy and tired, but you smiled back, “Hey, babies. Where’s your mommy?”

They pointed to the kitchen and you set your things down softly, “Janine?”

She turned to you, eyebrows furrowed in worry, “Hey, dear.”

Noticing a tall absence, she commented, “Your boyfriend couldn’t come?”

You shook your head, holding up the toddler, “No, traveling and stuff.”

The eldest of the three girls sighed, “I wanted to see him.”

“Me too,” You spoke subconsciously to the 12-year-old.

Janine noticed this and hugged you, “It’s alright. Lousy singer, anyways.”

Laughing slightly, you set the girl down, “I’ll visit dad now, is that alright? I can’t clock into my hotel until 8PM.”

She nodded, “Go ahead, hon.”

Your dad’s breathing was monitored by a machine, his chest moving up and down slowly when his eyes opened to see you, “(Y/N).”

“Hey dad,” You croaked out, tired of sitting in the uncomfortable recliner, drowning in your thoughts, “How are you doing?”

“I haven’t seen you since you were 14.”

“I know. Looks like you’ve grown up, too. Your girls are cute,” You changed the subject, fiddling with your sleeves.

Before he could say anything, you lied, “Harry’s busy with getting ready for his tour. Sorry he couldn’t make it.”

The rekindling was nice, soothing the dread you had of talking to your father for the past few years. He told you all kinds of things, everything you’d missed out on, everything he’d seen of you in magazines.

Most, if not all of it, was about you. How much he missed you. And you missed the part of you he described, too.

Janine took over for you and brought your bags so you could get settled into your hotel, there not being enough space for you to stay in their small home.

“Thanks, Jan,” You smiled at her solemnly, “Take care of him, okay? I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.”

The girls hugged you goodbye and you left, hands gripping the steering wheel of your rented car until they turned white. When you got to the hotel, you couldn’t help but hit your steering wheel, taking your frustration out on the inanimate object.

Your phone rang right as you settled into bed and you answered it mindlessly.

“(Y/N)…”

Harry.

“I haven’t heard you get so mad before.”

You stayed silent.

“Look, I was just out with Louis and-“

“Fuck you,” You spat, “I know it was that girl.”

The line went silent for a moment, “You got me.”

You chuckled in frustration, “Figures, H.”

“But look, we didn’t do anything and-“

“Stop lying.”

“We just kissed-“

“I told you to stop lying, Harry.”

“Please don’t call me that,” That’s how he knew you were beyond mad.

“Then stop lying to me.”

“I slept with her. I was off my face, (Y/N). You know it means nothing to me.”

Tears spilled out of your eyes, “You weren’t drunk when you texted her all those times, Haz.”

“You’ve changed.”

The nickname gave him the reassurance he so desperately needed, “I know. And I have faith that you’ll know I can change too. I always have faith in you, (Y/N).”

It angered you more than anything to hear those next words, but he continued on nonetheless. You couldn’t even listen at that point, the ceiling becoming littered in everything Harry had ever done to hurt you.

“I have faith.”

“Then lose your faith in me, Harry.”

“Huh?” He asked, dumbfounded.

“Lose your faith in me. I’m not coming back to you anymore.” You hung up, ignoring the countless calls left for you just as he did.

You’d only return after to get your things from your shared house when you knew he wasn’t there. You left your keys on the counter, taking nothing.

The calls became less and less frequent. You stopped listening to the voicemails. Stopped following him in the news. The spotlight eventually left you alone to fend for yourself and continued after Harry.

It wasn’t until you were invited onto a radio show that you publicly talked about your relationship briefly, acknowledging his achievements since going solo.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been in the public eye, huh?” Zach, the host questioned, “Not since the rough breakup.”

“No, no,” You smiled toothily, “But it’s great to be back. This time with my own accomplishments. Relationships come and go, and it seems like he’s making it big, but I want to get there on my own.”

Your dad came up briefly since his passing, and you shouted out your stepmother and her kids.

But you were there for another reason. Finally, you’d rose from the ashes and finished your song, ready to show it to the world. To show everyone you were more than a pretty ex of Harry Styles.

“It’s like Lora Mathis’ poem,” You admitted to the host, “I want to talk about what happened without mentioning how much it hurt. There is to be a way. To take care of the wounds without reopening them. To name the pain without inviting it back into me. That’s the thing here, I could do it in song. The people it’s about - they hurt me. But they both believed that they loved me to the very end.”

“That’s beautiful,” His cohost chimed in, “I think you did that wonderfully with this song.”

“Alright, here’s (Y/N) with a brand new debut single, The Gold!” The host smiled, playing it soon after.

The song played smoothly, and you soon found your comment sections flooded with similar lost love stories, parental and romantic, loss and love.

Ultimately, you went home to an empty apartment, at peace with it finally. In fact, it hadn’t been much different than your old situation a few years back, only that you were happier now, and no melancholic feelings stuck to you by the blanket. The ceiling was no longer stained with spot-like thoughts and memories. You stared out the window with a cup of coffee, admiring the cityscape.

The picture of the two of you rest on your coffee table, now turned down, the picture meeting the cold table.

Tomorrow would be another day, and then you’d send money to your siblings and your stepmother, and even your mother, maybe with a letter noting your success and song.

The phone rang quietly on the counter, but you were too in the zone to get it or even hear it. Unbeknownst to you, it flashed:

Incoming Call: Harry

#harry styles #one direction #louis tomilson #hazza #harry styles x reader #angst #angst fanfic #angst fic #cheated #cheater harry #x reader #phoebe bridgers #songfic #breakup #short story #harry styles imagine #imagine #harry styles blurb

[violetsandfluff]

“Don’t cry, baby girl, it was only a dream,” Harry’s voice rasped tiredly as he sat up in bed, holding your head on his shoulder and massaging your back as you cried.

He was right, it was only a dream, but that was the terrible part.

You had gone back to the day you’d first met him, exchanging phone numbers, first hug, first kiss, holding hands, drunkenly confessing feelings.

Long car rides together, holding hands in parks, getting engaged, your wedding day.

Losing your virginity to him, a honeymoon filled with lazy make out sessions, swimming, and sex.

Holding each other during hard times, nursing each other when they were sick, hundreds of tiny hugs and I love yous.

Your entire relationship played in your mind like a cleverly crafted flashback video. Highlights of your love life, if you would, minus the sappy inspirational music. Things only the two of you would know.

Harry’s arms felt comfortable now, and familiar; too familiar. You were happy to be married now, and carrying his baby. You didn’t regret anything, but on nights like this, you were lonely for the playboy Harry you had fallen for in college.

You were hungry for the new crush feeling. You loved how Harry had forfeited his whole playboy reputation for you just to date you.

But it was all better because that boy was holding you now, rocking you softly to sleep.

#fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #blurb #fluff #fanfixtion #dream #Harry styles #one direction #fanfic x you #fanfic x reader #fanfic x y/n #fluff x reader #fluff x you #fluff x y/n #husband!harry #fluffy!hazza #hazza styles #Harry styles fanfic #Harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #Harry styles blurb #Harry styles x you #Harry styles x reader #Harry styles x y/n #yellow 💛 heart #flutterfly alley #fluffy!harry #dadrry #husbandrry

[harrrystyles-writing]

Quero um com 16,4 e 2

Frases:“Você ficaria bem com a minha mão em volta do seu pescoço.”“Eu não estava mentindo quando disse que te amava.”A comida parece ótima, mas ... Há algo muito mais delicioso que eu gostaria de comer agora.”

NotaAutora : perdoe pela demora amore espero que goste, adoraria saber o que achou depois.

Aviso: +18, muitos palavrões, sexo oral

Harry Concept #56

"Você sente minha falta?" Um belo sorriso malicioso saiu dos lábios de Styles do outro lado do balcão.

"Você disse que nós trataríamos de assuntos do trabalho Harry."

"E vamos."

"Então o que você está fazendo? Me trazendo até sua casa e fazendo o jantar? " Você arqueou às sobrancelhas. "Me falando essas coisas?" Cruzou os braços.

"Eu só estou brincando um pouco." Ele riu de como a deixou brava. " E acho que a nossa nova marca pleasing foi um sucesso, ela merece um belo jantar." Ele ainda mantinha aquele maldito sorriso.

"Poderia ter me levado a um restaurante." Retrucou.

"Sabe como sempre gostei de cozinhar para você."

"Infelizmente eu sei, mas isso não vai mudar nada entre nós Harry."

"Você já deixou isso bem claro." Ele lhe entregou uma taça de vinho. "Relaxa é só um jantar de negócios"

Já fazia três meses, três meses que você e Harry haviam terminado, realmente foi difícil depois do término, mas o pior era saber que teria que vê-lo diariamente, alguns dos seus amigos até aconselharam a você vender sua parte da nova marca de cosméticos, mas você se recusou, você havia trabalho duro tanto quanto Harry naquele projeto e não deixaria que seu término com ele estragasse isso.

"Ok." Supurou fundo tomando um pouco do seu vinho.

//

Aquilo deveria ser um jantar de negócios, decente e agradável, mas não, Harry apenas teve que deixar tudo mais difícil para você, no começo ele foi realmente sútil, com alguns flertes leves e despretensiosos, mas do meio para o final já estava literalmente óbvio o que ele estava querendo. Harry estava com tesão, você esteve com ele tempo o suficiente para saber que quando ele bebe, nem que seja só um pouco de álcool ele faz questão de mostrar que esta com tesão e principalmente provoca até que você esteja com tanto tesão quanto ele.

"Realmente o jantar está incrível." Você disse desviando o assunto da sua última cantada.

"A comida parece ótima, mas... Há algo muito mais delicioso que eu gostaria de comer agora."

Você quase engasgou-se, tendo que tomar um longo gole de seu vinho. Ele apenas riu de como a deixou, ele fez isso a noite toda e sabia exatamente como mexer com você.

"A sobremesa?" Fingiu não entender o que ele queria.

"Confesso que a sobremesa que preparei realmente deve estar ótima, mas eu estava falando de você, querida." Ele teve que ser mais direto dessa vez.

"Oh!" Você engoliu em seco." Aqui? Na cozinha?" Você questionou um pouco ofegante.

"Sim, eu quero sua boceta na minha cara agora."

Ele caminhou até onde estava sentanda sem quebrar o contato visual, apoiando um dos braços na mesa, abaixando-se o suficiente para conseguir sussurrar em seu ouvido.

"O que me diz?"

"Harry, isso não é justo."

"É estúpido fingir que você não quer, você sabe disso, não é?"

Harry sorriu, a puxando para cima, virando contra a mesa, colocando ambas as mãos em sua cintura.

"Sim, eu sei." Suspirou.

"Então, por favor? Me deixe fazer você se sentir bem." Quase implorou, esfregando seu próprio nariz contra o seu.

Em vez de responder você o puxou para mais perto, descansando as mãos contra seu peito, enquanto tinha os lábios de Harry novamente aos seus após tanto tempo.

"Você vai me deixar chupar sua linda buceta agora?" Ele questionou, antes de se ajoelhar.

"Sim." Sua voz falhou.

Harry a empurrou para cima da mesa, jogando algumas louças caras no chão, o som das taças quebrando fizeram ambos rirem, você ficou apoiada só pelos cotovelos, observando-o levantar o seu vestido até os quadris abrindo bem as suas pernas, as mãos dele deslizam por sua pele para acariciar suavemente suas coxas, a boca dele percorreu um caminho de beijos chupões até sua calcinha, onde ele lambeu seu clitóris sobre o tecido antes de empurrá-lo para o lado.

"Você sabe o quanto eu quero fazer isso com você?” ele cantarolou, deixando uma lambida rápida no clitóris. "Depois que terminamos você me deixou louco usando roupas provocantes todo o santo dia que te vi." Ele deixou mais uma lambida rápida só para vê-la soltar um gemido de antecipação. "Você usou esse só para mim hoje não foi?" Desta vez Harry estava a provocando com os dedos, ele deslizou dois dedos em sua boceta molhada começando em um ritmo lento." Responda." Ordenou.

"Sim." Choramingou.

Harry estava gostando de provocar você, fazendo você desmoronar embaixo dele, ele ainda deixou uma piscadinha rápida, antes de sua cabeça mergulhar para baixo. Quanto mais rápido a língua dele se movia, mais alto o gemido saía de sua garganta, suas mãos estavam segurando firmemente a mesa — Certamente você não estava pensando nas consequências agora. Você estava praticamente esfregando sua boceta em seu rosto e ele continuava a chupar você ansiosamente e porra, ele parecia tão bem enterrado em sua boceta.

"Merda, Harry isto é tão bom." Choramingou."Porra! Eu te amo." Você soltou a mesa, puxando o cabelo dele para estimulá-lo ir ainda mais rápido.

"O que disse?" Ele parou. "Me ama?"

"Caralho Harry! Cala a boca e não pare." Você estava tremendo, exatamente à reação que ele esperava. "Eu estou tão perto."

Ele não ia parar, não agora que você estava à bera do orgasmo, a boca dele prendeu seu clitóris, sugando por alguns segundos a levando loucura, ele deslizou dois dedos em sua buceta com facilidade, começando a bombea-lós em um ritmo não tão lento, mas rápido o suficiente para levá-la ao seu máximo nos minutos seguintes, seus olhos se fecharam por alguns instantes, todo seu corpo começou a formigar quando o prazer foi preenchendo seu corpo, você jogou a cabeça para trás, xingando alguns palavrões enquanto gozava intensamente nos dedos dele. Harry deu um último beijo em sua boceta antes levantar, ele tinha seu queixo pingando, seu rosto brilhante e um sorriso de satisfação em seus lábios.

"Você está bem?"

"Sim." Diz ainda um pouco atordoada.

Você desceu, ajustando seu vestido e calcinha, pegando um pouco papel toalha que tinha em cima da mesa para enxugar a umidade entre suas coxas que você mesma deixou.

"Então sobre àquilo o que disse?"

"Sobre o quê?"

"Ei! Não seja tímida agora."

"Eu não estava mentindo quando disse que te amava." Confessou com as bochechas coradas."Eu ainda te amo Harry."

"Eu também, baby." Ele a puxou para um beijo, fazendo-a sentir um pouco do seu gosto em sua língua.

"Talvez possamos terminar o que você começou?" Você sugeriu.

"Eu adoraria." Ele sorriu." Você ficaria bem com a minha mão em volta do seu pescoço."

"Sempre achei sua mão um ótimo adereço." Você piscou para ele, já ansiosa pelo que estava por vir.

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[paigemarie1997]

Just wow🥹💕

#cute #harry #harry styles #adorable #hazza styles #love #fine line #harry styles falling #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles lockscreen #harry edward styles #harry styles smile #harry styles wallpaper #i love him #i love this #kiwi harry styles #harry styles concert #harry styles x reader #gorgeous #magazine #photoshoot

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Snack Wars.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - niall and louis have done it, now it’s time for hazza to take part.

word count - 2.6k

in which, on this episode of snack wars, we sit down with a certain curly headed lad who goes by the name of harry styles who happens to be comparing british and american snacks.

"Hi, M’Harry Styles, and this is Snack Wars: Britain versus America on LADbible."

He was sat at a small table, wearing an open buttoned black blouse revealing his swallow tattooed partially, and a matching pair of black trousers, with a black version of his satellite stompers.

The scene cut to a moment of anticipation as Harry, a playful smile on his face, leaned forward to lift the silver cloche that concealed the surprise snack showdown. With an air of curiosity, he wondered aloud, "What ‘ave y’got for me, huh?”

With a theatrical flourish, Harry unveiled the hidden treasures. His eyes widened as he beheld the items laid before him.

"Well, this is intriguing," he mused.

On the British side, there sat a classic bone china teacup, adorned with delicate floral patterns. Steam wafted from the cup, carrying the unmistakable aroma of freshly brewed English tea. A smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips as he appreciated the comforting sight.

Then, on the American side, he found a tall Starbucks cup, its iconic logo staring back at him.

"Hot chocolate, huh?" Harry noted, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. The rich, velvety beverage was topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream, drizzled with chocolate syrup—a quintessential indulgence.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the contrast before him.

"A classic cup of English tea versus a Starbucks hot chocolate," he said with a playful grin. "S’like comparing tradition with a bit of modern comfort."

As he picked up the English teacup, Harry took a contemplative sip and savoured the warm, familiar flavour.

"Y’just can't beat a good cuppa," he admitted with a nod of approval.

Turning his attention to the Starbucks hot chocolate, as he brought the cup closer to his mouth and took a sip of the Starbucks hot chocolate, a warm smile crossed his face.

"Y’know," he mused, "S’m’son Jude's favorite drink at t’moment."

From behind the camera, the producer, Becky, chimed in with a playful tone.

"Well, Harry, you might have to take it home with you then," she suggested.

Harry turned toward the camera, a twinkle in his eye, and replied,

"Yeah, I might have to," adding a soft chuckle. The idea of bringing a taste of the challenge back to his family seemed rather appealing.

"N’this s’like a cosy hug in a cup," he quipped.

With both cups now in hand, Harry found himself in the middle of a delightful dilemma. He was torn between the classic cup of English tea and the comforting Starbucks hot chocolate. He took another sip of the hot chocolate, the rich cocoa flavour lingering on his taste buds, and then turned to the English tea, its aroma inviting him back to tradition.

With a playful frown, he mused aloud, "S’a tough decision, isn't it?"

The camera captured his contemplative expression as he hesitated. Finally, he extended his index finger, pointing toward the cup of English tea.

"Y’know," Harry said with a hint of hesitation, "y’just can't beat a bit of tradition."

As he made his choice, he looked into the camera, a mischievous glint in his eye, and added, "But don't get me wrong, s’hot chocolate s’fantastic too."

The crew behind the scenes chuckled at Harry's charming indecision, understanding the difficulty of choosing between two beloved beverages.

As the scene wrapped up with Harry having chosen the English tea, there was a moment of transition, and another producer, Sarah, stepped in, placing a fresh cloche on the table.

Harry, ever the showman, decided to play along. He feigned excitement, clapping his hands together as if he were a kid about to open a birthday present.

"Ooh, S’under this one, ey?" he exclaimed with playful enthusiasm.

The crew behind the camera burst into laughter at Harry's antics. It was a heartwarming moment of genuine amusement, and it made Harry feel happy that he could bring a bit of laughter to the set.

Sarah joined in on the fun, making a dramatic reveal as she lifted the cloche, unveiling a new surprise snack.

With the producer, Sarah, excusing herself to organise the next set of snacks, Harry turned back to face the camera. He couldn't help but maintain his charming grin, fully embracing the fun and spontaneity of the Snack Wars challenge.

With a sly wink to the camera, he reached forward, once again lifting the cloche. The reveal this time brought forth a quintessentially British delight – a plate of buttered crumpets. The golden-brown crumpets glistened under the studio lights, promising a warm, comforting taste of the UK.

As Harry lifted the cloche to reveal the buttered crumpets, he couldn't quite hide a slightly disdained expression. The golden discs of toasted goodness sat there, tempting, but his reaction was unmissable.

Producer Becky, who was watching closely, couldn't help but notice Harry's reaction. She raised an eyebrow and said, "Not a fan of crumpets, Harry?"

Harry chuckled, his signature honesty shining through.

"Y’know ‘hat?," he began, "M’not exactly t’biggest fan f’crumpets, t’be honest. S’the texture, y’see."

He leaned forward, elaborating, "M’don't really like how they feel in t’mouth. S’a bit... spongy f’m’liking." He demonstrated by pressing a finger into one of the crumpets, watching it bounce back. "But ey’, s’just me."

With the crumpets before him, Harry Styles decided to give them another chance. He leaned forward, picked up one of the buttered crumpets, and took a cautious bite. However, as soon as he tasted the spongy texture, his face contorted in discomfort.

He chewed for a moment, but it was clear that the texture didn't sit well with him. Harry quickly reached for a napkin and discreetly spat out the bite he had taken. He shook his head, a look of mild frustration on his face, and simply said, "I can't do it. I can't."

The crew around him chuckled, empathising with his culinary struggles. Harry Styles may be an international superstar, but even he had his food preferences.

Harry, ever the trooper, decided to set aside the crumpets and turned his attention to the colourful box of Lucky Charms. With a playful glint in his eye, he grabbed a bowl and poured a generous serving of the whimsical cereal. The rainbow-hued marshmallow shapes and toasted oat pieces tumbled into the bowl, creating a delightful medley of colours.

He then grabbed the jug of cold milk and added a generous splash, watching as the cereal pieces began to bob and soak up the milk. With a cheeky grin, he couldn't resist poking fun at his previous crumpet encounter. He turned to the camera and quipped, "Anything's better than those crumpets, am I right?"

The crew burst into laughter, sharing in his jest. Harry then picked up a spoon, scooped up a spoonful of Lucky Charms, and brought it to his mouth. As the sweet, crunchy goodness met his taste buds, his eyes sparkled with delight. He savored the delightful combination of textures and flavors, nodding approvingly.

With a mouthful of cereal, he gave a thumbs-up to the camera, clearly enjoying the contrast between the playful sweetness of the American cereal and the earlier challenge of the British crumpets.

“One point to America.” He grinned after he swallowed the mouthful.

The scene transitioned smoothly, and as the camera focused on the table, another cloche awaited Harry’s playful curiosity. With a grin, he leaned forward and lifted the cloche to reveal a Greggs bakery wrapper and a McDonald's wrapper neatly placed side by side.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. "Well, well, well," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Can't go wrong with either of these, can ya?"

The crew laughed, understanding the dilemma he was about to face – a classic choice between the savoury delights of a Greggs bakery treat and the fast-food comfort of McDonald's.

With a mock-serious expression, he picked up the Greggs wrapper, his anticipation evident. "S’what we've got here,ey?"

As Harry pulled the Greggs wrapper open, he was met with a surprise – a vegan sausage roll neatly nested inside. He leaned forward, his curiosity piqued, and brought the roll closer to his nose to take in its scent.

He gave it a tentative sniff and then grinned.

"Interesting," he mused, before taking a hearty bite out of the vegan sausage roll. His eyes twinkled as he chewed, clearly contemplating the taste.

After a few moments, Harry swallowed and offered his verdict.

"Well, I like it," he said with a nod. "S’got that sausage taste, y’know?

With the taste of the vegan sausage roll still on his palate, Harry shifted his attention to the McDonald's wrapper. He couldn't help but smile as he pulled out a Fillet-O-Fish box. The familiar golden arches symbolised a comforting fast-food favorite .

The producer, who had orchestrated this surprise, chimed in, "We thought you might enjoy that, Harry, considering you're pescatarian."

Harry's eyes brightened as he looked at the Filet-O-Fish box.

"Well, thank y’for thinking of me," he replied warmly. "S’always nice t’have options."

With gratitude in his voice, he proceeded to open the box, revealing the crispy fish sandwich inside. The delightful aroma of the fish and tartar sauce filled the air, making him even more eager to take a bite.

With a grin of anticipation, Harry took a big bite of the Fillet-O-Fish. The moment the flavors hit his taste buds, his eyes closed in pleasure, and he let out a satisfied hum. It was clear that the familiar taste brought him genuine delight.

He tilted his head back slightly, savoring the moment, and the producers couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiastic reaction. It was a simple yet heartwarming display of food appreciation.

As he finished that delicious bite, one of the producers asked, "Harry, do you have McDonald's a lot?"

Harry shook his head, his mouth still full. He chewed and swallowed before answering,

"Not really, but it does hold a special place in m’heart."

He continued,

"Y’see, it was actually mine and m’fiancée's first takeaway together, about six years ago. So, s’got some sentimental value." Harry's eyes softened as he reminisced about that memorable moment.

The crew smiled, appreciating the personal touch Harry added to the Snack Wars challenge.

So it was safe to say that McDonald’s got the point for that one.

As Harry lifted the next cloche lid, he uncovered a delightful surprise – a Victoria sponge cake and a Twinkie side by side. The contrast between the classic British treat and the iconic American snack was evident.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight of the Victoria sponge, its layers of sponge and sweet jam filling beckoning to him.

"Now, this looks promising," he remarked.

However, his gaze lingered on the Twinkie, and he let out a small chuckle.

"Ah, Twinkies," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "V’actually had a bit of a... bad experience with these."

Producer Becky, always curious, couldn't resist asking for more details. "Oh, really? What happened, Harry?"

Harry leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Well, when I was around nineteen, I was touring in t’States," he began, "n’someone dared me t’eat a whole box of Twinkies in one go." He paused, his eyes crinkling with a mix of nostalgia and humor. "I took up t’challenge, but let's just say it didn't end well. I ended up... well, throwing them all up."

The crew burst into laughter at Harry's candid confession. It was a tale of youthful daredevilry and the consequences of overindulgence, and it added another layer of charm to the Snack Wars challenge.

Harry couldn't help but be drawn to the sight of the Victoria sponge cake. Its soft layers and sweet jam filling were a comforting temptation. With a subtle smile, he slowly pushed the Twinkie away from him, turning all his attention to the British delight that made his mouth water.

Without hesitation, he picked up the entire cake with both hands and, with a mischievous glint in his eye, took an enormous, unapologetic bite. The sweet icing smeared all over his scruff and lips as he indulged in the delightful treat.

Amidst Harry's enthusiastic cake-eating, the crew couldn't contain their laughter. Icing adorned his face, and the scene was a humorous mix of sophistication and playful indulgence.

With his mouth full of cake, Harry attempted to speak, his words muffled as he declared, "Britain... takes the point on this one!" His sentiment was clear despite the sugary obstacle, and the crew erupted into even more laughter at his charmingly messy verdict.

As the Snack Wars challenge continued, the next cloche was unveiled, revealing yet another intriguing matchup. On one side of the table sat a bottle of Pimms, accompanied by a glass of lemonade, and on the other side was a shot glass with a bottle of bourbon beside it.

Harry, ever the adventurer, leaned forward to examine the options before him. His eyes sparkled with curiosity as he took in the contrasting beverages.

"S’a fun choice," he remarked with a grin. "We've got a taste f’British summer with Pimms and lemonade on one side, and a good old American bourbon on the other."

With a thoughtful nod, Harry decided to start with the Pimms and lemonade. He picked up the bottle of Pimms and carefully poured some into the glass of lemonade. The vibrant red and orange hues mingled with the fizzy lemonade, creating a refreshing blend.

He brought the glass up to his lips and took a sip. His eyes lit up as he savoured the harmonious combination of flavours.

"S’good," he declared with a contented smile.

Harry leaned back in his chair, gazing into the distance with a nostalgic glint in his eye.

"Y’know," he began, "s’actually reminds me f’when I go back t’m’mum's house in the summer. S’her favourite drink."

After enjoying the Pimms and lemonade, Harry turned his attention to the bourbon, a drink he admitted he hadn't had much experience with. He picked up the shot glass, inspecting the rich amber liquid within.

"V’not really had bourbon before," he admitted with a curious expression.

Undeterred, he decided to give it a try and threw the shot down the back of his throat. The moment the bourbon hit his palate, he grimaced as the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat. He shook his head, trying to soothe the sensation.

The crew watched with amusement and sympathy, realising that bourbon could be quite the intense experience for a first-timer.

After his adventurous sip of bourbon, Harry Styles placed the shot glass back on the table and looked between the two drinks before him – the Pimms and lemonade and the bourbon. His expression conveyed a sense of contemplation as he considered the flavours and experiences each beverage offered.

With a thoughtful nod, he finally made his decision.

"I think," he began, "I'll give the point t’Britain on this one."

His choice was clear, as he favoured the refreshing blend of Pimms and lemonade, a taste that held sentimental value and fond memories for him.

With the Snack Wars challenge completed, Harry still faced the camera, a contented smile on his face after the culinary adventure he had just embarked upon. The table before him held remnants of both British and American treats, a testament to the diversity of flavours he had experienced.

Becky, one of the producers, couldn't resist the opportunity to share the results. She leaned in and asked, "Harry, would you like to know the final result?"

Harry turned toward her, his curiosity piqued, and replied with a playful grin, "Yes, I'd love t’know!"

Becky beamed and announced, "Britain won!"

Harry chuckled and nodded in approval.

"Ah, y’can't go wrong with t’British," he quipped, showcasing his patriotism with a touch of humour.

#musicforastylesrestaurant #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fake ig #harry styles headcanon #harry styles x oc #harrystylesdrabble #harry styles fake social media #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harrystylesxreader #harry styles one shot #harry styles x yn #harry’s house #harrystylesxyn #dad!harry #dadrry

[hazza-bear-care]

Masterlist

Babie Crue:

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/185937229700/babie-crue-1?source=share

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/185973327855/babie-crue-2?source=share

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/186150555215/babie-crue-3?source=share

Part 4: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/187084268140/babie-crue-4?source=share

Part 5: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/187629701990/babie-crue-5?source=share

Part 6: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/187766907055/babie-crue-6?source=share

Part 7: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/188115743160/babie-crue-7?source=share

Part 8: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/189008079425/babie-crue-8?source=share

Part 9: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/190115562870/babie-crue-9?source=share

Part 10: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/617404404718600192/babie-crue-10?source=share

Part 11: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/651450522419789824/babie-crue-11-pt-1?source=share

Nikki Blurb: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/613719310928625664/can-you-do-a-one-shot-where-the-readers-the-5th?source=share

Harry Styles:

I'm Having Your Baby; https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/174741128915/im-having-your-baby?source=share

Inoculation

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/175770790200/inoculation?source=share

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/178497249810/inoculation-part-2?source=share

Not So Rainy Day Blues: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/185802819390/a-harry-blurb-very-soft-please?source=share

Pink Floyd Hate: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/617401531578433536/harrys-reaction-to-his-girlfriends-absolute?source=share

Bucky Barnes:

You Know Me Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/185868607010/you-know-me-1?source=share

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/186273508605/you-know-me-2?source=share

Bound To Adoration: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/632725712712941574/bound-to-adoration?source=share

Sing It Again: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/639795018460217344/sing-it-again?source=share

Late Night Snacks: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/642871477729918976/late-night-snacks?source=share

Showers Help: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/677014967487283200/showers-help?source=share

Owned But Trashy: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/709468528264232960/owned-but-trashy?source=share

What Happened Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/730839488403832832/what-happened?source=share

What Happened Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/731196652557385728/what-happened-part-2?source=share

Steve Rogers:

First Time: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/644388483964764160/first-time?source=share

Kylo Ren:

I Miss You Daddy: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/185800335125/i-have-a-request-for-kylo-ren-the-reader-is?source=share

Make Up: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/150225977110/makeup?source=share

Blurb: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/732357572574789632/hiii-can-i-have-an-imaginefanfic-where-reader?source=share

The Walking Dead:

Please Don't Leave Me Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/187030208095/please-dont-leave-me-blurb?source=share

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/190370396385/please-dont-leave-me-pt-2?source=share

Try Again: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/723239360791740416/try-again?source=share

Criminal Minds:

Stay Safe Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/631280031853871104/stay-safe-13?source=share

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/631806749073145856/stay-safe-23?source=share

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/633977056046219264/stay-safe-33?source=share

Happy Family: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/713165989006786560/happy-family?source=share

Eddie Munson:

The NeverEnding Tease: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/706663814828015616/the-neverending-tease?source=share

Talk Dirty To Me: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/713969202093080578/talk-dirty-to-me?source=share

Scream Queen: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/717588690378080256/scream-queen?source=share

Friday Night Grind: https://www.tumblr.com/hazza-bear-care/732176226912976896/friday-night-grind?source=share

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is my first Masterlist, so I apologize if it's not the best, or if the links don't work, but I finally condensed all my work into one spot! I hope you guys enjoy! Love you!

#bucky barnes imagine #avengers imagine #fluff #angst #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky imagine #eddie munson imagine #steve rogers #stranger things smut #stranger things #stranger things imagine #the walking dead #negan fanfiction #twd negan #daryl dixion imagine #rick grimes #motley crue series #motley crue #motley crue imagine #tommy lee x oc #nikki sixx x oc

[angelisverba]

i’ll hold you so you don’t fall again

in which y/n is just really creative and harry writes erotica under a pseudonym.

pairing: interiordesing!y/n and eroticawriter!harry

word count: 21k+

note: i’m so freaking sorry this took so long. thank you for being patient with me, and i hope its what you expected :) also the formatting is all wonky i have no idea why.

Y/n wasn’t one to brag.

She knew what it felt like to sit and nod while someone else talked about their accomplishment. The itchy pull of heart strings; the yearning of wanting success, too. 

But, she also knew how awkward it was to go back and forth declining compliments. 

Which is why she never bragged about her newfound success. Or did the whole ‘oh you’re too sweet’ ordeal. She said thank you, and moved on. 

Because it definitely was one.

 A sudden change of no recognition to suddenly everyone wants her.

She had her friend, Lucy, to thank. Lucy had just opened up a coffee shop. One of those cute artsy ones on a street in West Hollywood somewhere, with money she had saved up over the years. It just so happened that her best friend was a talented painter, designer, and dabbled in all kinds of crafts. Y/n was known for always maintaining a tiny business of whatever it was she could come up with, and when her friend asked for help to decorate and set up shop, she jumped at the opportunity to go big. 

The store was a loft-y type space. A blank, grey walls and metal; an industrial room. The first time Y/n looked at it, her mind  flooded with ideas. Mirrors, art, frames, flowers, and anything that could be put up. Different themes and approaches to light up the room. But, before doing anything, she had a nice long talk with Lucy, about what she wanted to see. Had her set up a pinterest board with items for the shop. Color schemes, movies, plants, etc. From that, y/n took hold of the project, asking for Lucy’s opinion here and there, but taking most choices to her own judgement. 

The end result… well, it was the reason why Lucy was full all the damn time. Y/n had turned the lofty space into an Instagram hippie galore. Lucy’s mood board consisted of a weird mix of Madonna, pearls, and David Bowie. So, all over there were some of the most famous pop-culture posters. Streams of pearls. Mason jars lined with pearls. Velvet curtains with golden tassels; the stringy ones that tickled when you rub them all over your palm. There were light bulbs and fairy lights hanging in the wooden beams from the ceiling, that were turned on everyday 30 minutes after sunset, like the headlights on cars. Additional records were set to look through and buy in a corner, and opposite that a jukebox with records that both y/n, Lucy, and Lucy’s boyfriend, Mike, had picked. The labels were written in y/n’s writing, a mix between curly-cue and messy doctors cursive; clean enough to read, messy enough to enjoy. 

No plants. Or succulents, at least, but y/n had bought 5 dozens of roses from downtown. She’d hung them up to dry, left some where they were, and others she put in empty glass cola bottles that were in the center of each of the 10 booths. On the single, middle tables, y/n had placed leather table cloths. No flowers. 

And the menus? Oh gosh, the menus. They were y/n’s pride and joy. 

She’d closed herself in an entire day, to create the finishing look. With a copy of drinks (labeled like ‘Madonna’ and then the actual coffee order that star would’ve wanted)  and the small variety of sandwiches (& other finger foods) y/n drew portraits on blackboards, used different fonts, painting mediums, and at a certain point even incorporated glitter, to create these magnificent hand drawn chalk menus. 

Then the outside of the shop. This is what got her word out. 

A journalist of some sort had happened to stumble upon Coffee for Rockstars the day that y/n was painting the windows. 

You know, like with a brush and paint can. 

She’d blocked off her workspace with chairs and caution tape, jammed her newly bought airpods in, and pressed play to her music. 

The mural- Lucy labeled it, but to y/n it really wasn’t all that much, consisted of a the planet Saturn, with David Bowie, Elton John, Prince, Stevie Nicks, Freddie Mercury, and The Beatles prancing along the rings (all picked by Lucy). The window was a 5-or-so feet taller than her, so she had to use one of the chairs to reach the top half of the planet. 

While she painted Elton’s fluffy feather suit on, the journalist had approached her, his waist pushing through the tape y/n had put up. 

“Excuse me?” he called out to her, hands positioned on one of those Canon Rebel whatever they were called everyone seemed to be carrying around these days. 

And Wild Night by Van Morrison may have been playing a little too loud because y/n didn’t hear him the first time, and he had to call out again, leaning forward slightly to catch her attention.  

“Excuse me?” The guy says a little louder. This time, she sees him, and turns while removing her headphones, getting paint on her forehead and hair. 

“Oh!” she said, startled. “How can I help you?” Her cheeks flame a bit when he gives her a boyish smile, lips twirling up to the corner of his eyes. He’s cute, she thinks, floppy hair that’s sunbleached at the tips from the sun, and freckles in the bridge of his roman nose. 

“Yes, actually. My names’ James. I was wondering if I could take your picture for an article I’m doing. I work with the LA times, in the local business section, and there's a piece on West Hollywood’s hottest places. This one’s trending.” He lifts his camera in a ‘here it is!’ gesture. 

“Me?” she asked in disbelief. Her eyebrows raised high above their usually places, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Shouldn’t you be photographing inside? You know, like the people?” 

“You worked on this place didn’t you? That’s what Lucy told me. You’re a big part of what makes this place hot ‘n trendy. Plus, this live painting action will look wonderful…” he trailed off, his glance drifting to the window and to the picture she was painting. “It’s really good. Deserves some recognition.” 

“Uhm…” Y/n looks around. There’s people on the opposite street staring at her, some that linger as they walk by. She catches a window roll down as the car goes by. 

She’s always been small. In size, in popularity. She’s never been in demand. If she said yes, there's a possibility that that would change. A small part of her wanted that… she could finally start her business, like she’s always wanted to...

    “Okay, how do you want me?”

    He laughed, and told her to just continue with what she was doing. So, she did. She added more paint to her glass palette, and unprofessionally used her bare thigh to rid the brush of the excess paint. Momentarily, the brush found its way to the bite of her teeth, so the girl could put her earphones back in and get back into the right headspace to work. 

The journalist, chuckled as he watched her, amused by her tactics, how she leaned back to look at the bigger picture. He was done in a matter of minutes, taking pictures of everything she’d set up in her closed off area. The tarp she’s laid on the floor.  The cans of paint; red, blue, yellow, green, white, and black. An uneaten sandwich and a glass bottle filled with pink liquid (lemonade and a bit of vodka, y/n’s choice of drink when she was painting, claiming it got her ‘creative juices flowing’). 

He has to get her attention again the same way, because she’d managed to lose herself in what she was doing. 

“You’re all done?” she asked him, once again plucking the earphone out with a yank. 

“Yep, got more than enough.” James said, placing  a black cap on the lens of his camera. “Can I ask you a few questions?”     Y/n smirked a bit, thinking back to her school days when smartass teachers would respond with ‘i don’t know, can you?’ and she nearly did as well. 

She didn’t though. She just said, “Go right ahead.” 

“Well, first thing’s first,” he reached into his front pocket, and pulled out his phone. Who keeps their phone in their front pocket, she thought. “Name, age, and what you did for Rockstar’s cafe?” 

“My name is y/n, I’m 21, and I was interior and, as you can see, exterior, designer as well for Rockstar Cafe.” She’s shifting awkwardly side to side, tugging at the ends of her large,  orange Garfield shirt nervously. Flashes of her jean cut-offs peeked where her shirt lifted. 

“Tell me a little bit about the process of creating the entire ‘astro-70’s’ vibe you got going on here are the shop.” James doesn’t look up at her, because he’s furiously typing away at his phone, noting down what y/n says. 

    “Well, that was really Lucy’s doing. She provided me with pictures of things she wanted, kinda like… uhm.. that aura? I guess you could say that she wanted the place to have. I worked side by side with her, to make this happen. This was her vision, I just helped it....” she struggled for a moment, to put her thoughts into words, “come to life.” 

He looked up at her then, a small smile on  his lips. “What’s your favorite thing about it so far?” 

“I’d say, the way the menu is set up. An artist’s name, and the drink they’d get. Lucy did her reasearch, and found out like, I guess you could say, their ‘regulars’. So, what’s on the menus are what the artist actually would like.” Subconsciously, she points to the inside of the shop, referring to the menus. 

“Last question, have you ever done anything like this before?” 

Y/n stammered for a moment, then said, “No. I haven't.” She taps the tips of her shoes together, all paint splattered and scuffed. “Nothing at this level of big. I’ve always kinda, worked on crafts. In highschool I had a small business, where’d I’d sell personalized things.  I think that’s why Lucy trusted me so much. Because I have a history of reaching to the stars when it comes to paper and pencil.” 

“That was great. Thank you so much, y/n. It was interesting to hear about you, and the cafe.” James places his phone back in his front pocket, and hooks his thumbs onto the straps of his camera as if they were suspenders. “Is there a website or business card you’d like me to reference in the article, after your name and all that?”  

“I don’t have anything like that actually. Just that I worked with Lucy, I guess you could say.” She puckers her lips at the end, shaking her head slightly. 

“Okay, well then. I’ll leave you to it. It’s coming along amazing.” James nods politely. “Have a great rest of your day, y/n.” Then walks away. 

“Bye, James.” She twiddles her fingers at him her way of saying goodbye. It doesn’t take her long to get sucked back into her work. In fact, as soon as she puts the earphones back in, she’s gone off the face of the earth, and doesn't notice when a green-eyed stranger stops to stare at her, right by the tree that she’d wrapped the caution tape around. The man pinched his lip as he watched, eyebrows furrowed with the same concentration y/n had for her work.

Except that he was watching her. The way her wrist flicked, how she tilted her face to look at what she was doing. How she stood like a flamingo, with her ankle pressed against her calf. The way she blew the wisps of hair off her mouth. 

He watched her intently, wondering who she was and how did she get there and what her name was.

And then, 

Brushing those thoughts out of his mind, he walked into the shop and didn’t look back. 

.

.

“Y/N!!” Lucy yelled from the counter. 

Y/n, covered head to toe in sparkly purple fabric, rushed out with a bit of hummus on toast in her mouth still. 

It was Halloween, and Lucy had demanded they both dress up as part of the uniform at Rockstar that day. Y/n, had decided she would go as Selena Quintanilla, and had crafted herself a halter top-style romper with purple cloth she had bought at the fashion district earlier that week. She’s woken up early too, and gone to her mom’s house so she could do her hair, and make up (given she’d lived at the same time Selena had). 

Lucy, ever the creative one, teased her blonde hair, spray painted it with a cheap can of green hair dye from the dollar store, and bought a pinstripe tux. TA-da! Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice. 

“Y/n!” Lucy was hissing now, impatient and demanding. It was a busy day at Rockstar. Social media influencers had come out for photo-ops and the like. Also, Lucy had a deal going of buy one get another iced coffee half off, and a free cassette with the $20+ purchase. 

“I’m coming, Luce! I’m coming, Jesus Christ,” y/n finished off chewing, tugged on the halter top to make sure nothing would pop out of place and washed her hands in the sink to help Lucy at the register. 

After she finished, she took place along side the three baristas, Kelsey, Tilly, and Kim. Kelsey was a broke college student, Tilly an Asian girl who doubled as a pole dancer on certain nights (she wore a mask to make sure her identity stayed secret), and Kim was a 30- year old who lives in his parents house. Bit of a creep if you asked y/n. 

“Y/n, you wanna take order 48 or 50?” Asked Tilly while rinsing a measuring cup. 

“I’ll take 50 and start on 52.” Y/n responded, tying the apron straps behind her neck. She didn’t tell Tilly that she picked order 50 because she hated making espressos, and order 48 consisted of three espressos. Order 50 was only four iced coffees. 

After she finished decorating Lucy’s coffee shop a month ago, Lucy didn’t offere y/n a job, but she was always around to help, and Lucy paid her for it. After class, y/n would stop by the shop, and that would lead to her working as a barista. Which she didn’t mind, the money helped and it gave her something to go. Otherwise, she’d be at home with her nose stuck in a regency novel and a buzzing feeling of want in her crotch at the cue of poetically beautiful yet smutty words. 

“Order number 50!” She called out. She set the plastic cup on the pick-up counter and plucked a stray from the jars to place alongside the drink. Seconds later, the drink was picked up by a tall and tanned man with green eyes; nails painted black; rings adorning each finger; soft, pink lips and a scruffy jaw. Curly strands of brown hair peeked out of a green beanie. 

He smiled at y/n. The way you smile at the cashier in the market. Polite. A bit disconnected in the eyes. He said, “Good morning, Selena. May I have a cup holder please?” 

In a British accent made heavier by the morning gruffness in his voice. Scratchy, deep, manly. And incredibly sexy. 

Of course, y/n took a moment to take in and drink the image presented before her, but after she felt her cheeks heat up like the fire underneath a witches feet, she cleared her throat and responded with, “You recognized who I was! Kudos to you, sir!” with a grin on her red lips. The man chuckled, and took the carton cup holder y/n gave him. 

“Have a great rest of your day,” was the last thing he said before he walked away. Y/n stared after him, watching the way his thighs filled in the fitting yellow pants he where, and how his biceps looked deliciously muscular; bulging in a white tee. 

“Y/N!”

“Sorry, Lucy!” Y/n skipped back to her post in front of the screen,and began reading off orders for Tilly, and Kim to make, and picked one for herself. Two iced coffees, one heated croissant. She was in the middle of measuring the milk when Lucy called her name again. 

“Lucy, I’m doing it, okay?” Y/n responded, frazzled. 

Lucy sucked on her teeth. “Y/n, come over here.” When y/n looked up, she saw that not only was Lucy looking at her, but a tall skinny blond with a sharp cut bob and a long white silk dress. 

Confused, y/n dumped the milk into the mixing cup and handed the order over to Kelsy for her to finish. “Yes?”

“This is Karime, and she wants you to help her decorate her store.” Lucy held a palm out towards the woman. “Karime, this is y/n.” 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Karime said, and y/n had to restrain from cringing at her nasally, high-pitched voice. “I love what you’ve done with this place! My store could use some re-camping, and when I saw the article I just had to come and see if I could hire you.” Karime makes gestures with her manicured hands, and titles her head in ways that makes her hair shake like sheets in the wind.

“Oh! Um…” 

“Why don’t you go ahead and talk with Karime, we’re all covered back here.” said Lucy, an extra-pleased tone in her voice; the voice she used with customers to keep them happy, y/n had recognized. Oh so now you don’t want me to work? y/n thought to herself, but gave the same smile the green-eyed stranger had given her, and walked out through the waist high swinging door to meet with Karime.  

“So, I wanted to know if it was possible to hire you on a month to month basis. Ou could come in the first week of every month, decorate, redecorate, while I suggest and give you a picture of what I want, like you did for Lucy.” Karime had a bamboo handle purse, and they clacked together every time she moved her hands in ‘here’ or ‘there’ gestures.  

They’re both standing at the start of the record shelves, and Y/n is awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot and fiddling with her hands. She’s sweating, too. This was huge. Big. Is this what networking was? Getting the word out? Expanding? If she said yes, it’s possible that it’d create a cycle. Someone else would come in, asking for help, to hire, to contract. It was a rush. She was giddy, excited. But most of all, nervous. One, because she’s a bit clumsy in the social aspect, and Two, because she had a standard to meet. 

Despite all this, she said, “Of course, when do I start?” 

Then, Karime had given y/n the address of her shop (a weird mix of aromatherapy, kale smoothies with books), and they decided on a day to meet up (the second day of every month starting November, two days from that day). 

Karime left after that. She hadn’t bought anything. Lucy congratulated y/n, squealed over it even, and Lucy never squeals. Kim looked over at them when he heard Lucy, and tried to ask what all the fuss was about. Lucy demanded he go back to work, and y/n ignored him. 

When closing time came, the girls did the bare minimum, and rushed out to pregame at Mike’s apartment. Like crazy teenagers, Lucy and y/n shared three bottles of a Stella Rosa bottle that had been on sale at the grocery store at the corner of Mike’s apartment complex. Inside, Mike was 2 beers in, and claimed he wouldn’t drink anymore since he was the DD. 

“You guys go on and drink yourselves black.” he said, sitting on the couch with a water in his hand and Lucy in his lap.  Mike, a slender punk rock kid who proved his mom wrong in the fact that his like for the color black is ‘not a phase’ is the sweetest guy y/n had ever met. He wasn’t afraid to show his love for Lucy, always doting on her, and if she asked, would rip out his heart and give it to her. 

Y/n was jealous. She yearned for a relationship like theirs, and no matter how long she waited, how hard she tried, Prince Charming never showed. Instead, she was stuck with watching Mike and Lucy rub into her face what she wanted so badly. 

Affection. Love. Companionship. 

Cheers to that, y/n thought. Her bottle of Mango and whatever the heck the flavor was called, was nearly done and she could still walk in a straight line. The wine was juice in her hands. Child’s play. Water. It had no effect on her. Not until she was three bottles in. It took an entire bottle of Smirnoff vodka shots to get her going once. Only then could she completely let go. 

“A lonely soul drowns in Stella Rosa, Mike.” Lucy, her hair sticking up like Einstein from the re-teasing she’d done in the bathroom. “There it stands, taking the shape of Selena. Poor, poor, Selena.” Lucy giggled. A teasing jab that made y/n pout, and y/n heart to clench because she knew Lucy was right. A lonely soul she was. 

“That’s not very nice of you, Lucy.” Y/n pointed at her friend, bottle in her hand. “First you yell at me at work, now you make fun of my love life?” Shes joking, too, but there's a bit of truth to her words. Meaning, Intention. 

“Drink up, lonely soul, and prepare for the battle that lies ahead: the making intercourse with an attendee of the club.”

“Blah,blah, and screw you.” grumbled y/n, finally, finishing the bottle with a final drink. 

.

.

Not that y/n had anything against it, but fuck the club. She hated it. She only ever went because Lucy or Mike or whoever else begged her to go with them and promised something in return. (Lucy promised she wouldn’t ask her for help the following day). She hated the lights, how load it was, and how much she was being touched. Sweaty men and women alike, rubbing up on her in places where she didn’t want to be, it was too hot, and her toes always got stepped on. 

“The usual for you, y/n?” Mike was yelling. His mouth was at her ear, but even then, only some of what he was saying made it into her ears. She simply nodded, and lifted up to fingers. Two gin and tonics. One part water, three parts gin. 

Lucy and y/n had managed to snatch a tiny booth when they walked in, and this was the place y/n was planning to spend most of her night. Not out on the blue-lit dance floor, not standing at the bar. Sitting at the dark booth, glumly sipping at her two gin-n-tonics. 

“You are not gonna sit here sippin’ glumly at your drinks, got that?” Luccy pulled at the lapels of her suit, popping her collar so the tips touched her jaw. 

“Lucy, please.” Y/n’s bangs were deflated and her lipstick was smudged, at her friends comment, she sunk into her seat and pulled her head around.  

“Let’s go.” 

Lucy tugged her onto the dancefloor just as some song by Cardi B or Nicki Minaj (y/n couldn't tell anymore) blared through the speakers, and the bass beat thrummed in her chest. They stayed for a few minutes, and in those few minutes, y/n’s toes grew numb with how much they’d been stepped on, and her hair was beginning to stick at the back of her neck. Lucy’s black and white makeup was gleaming with her sweat, and her hair dropped with condensation. 

It looked a bit funny really. Selene and Beetlejuice together on the dance floor. An odd pairing, but a parenting nonetheless. Lucy led her back to where Mike was when she got tired of dancing, and like an obedient puppy, y/n trailed behind her. When Lucy ordered y/n to chug her drink, she did it.

She couldn’t say not. Not to Lucy. Not to Karime. Not to James.

She couldn’t say no. 

And because she couldn’t say no, y/n woke up the next morning and couldn't remember a thing. She had a Katy Perry Last Friday Night moment. Sadly, there was no really hot guy next to her on her bed, and thankfully, she hasn’t wearing headgear. 

What woke her, was the pain behind her eyelids that started when the light hit her. With a groan, she hid in the crease of her elbow while she scraped her thoughts together. Y/n was still in her Selena get up. She itched, smelled, and had a headache that hurt like...well, it hurts so much that she didn’t even know what to compare it to. She felt on her nightstand, and there it was. Bless his heart. 

Mike had left her a glass of something cold, and two pills. She didn’t know for sure because she didn’t have the energy to peek and see, but the class was probably pedialyte. The hangover cure. The pills were Tylenol. They had to be, because he knew ibuprofen doesn’t do shit for her. 

“Fuck, fuck,fuck,” y/n mumbled. Her tongue felt like sandpaper against the dry roof of her mouth, and when she swallowed, there was a dangerous taste of gin to her spit. Pressing her fingertips to her aching temples, she curses Lucy for making her go out last night, and Mike for letting y/n chug alcohol. 

    Unfortunately, she makes the stupid mistake of rising quickly from her potition on the bed to ‘get it over with’ and not even a full second goes by when she feels her stomach contents worming up her throat. She had to clamp her lips together and rush to the bathroom with her blanket wrapped around her ankles so she doesn’t barf all over her floor. 

    She doesn’t make it in time, and she spilled her gut on the toilet seat, before she’s made it so that her head is positioned right over the toilet bowl. She heaves and heaves until her chest hurts from the muscle contractions and her throat burns from the amount of acidity her bile holds. Tears drop from the corner of her eyes to where her thumbs grasp the seat because it fucking hurts and she’s gotten throw up in her hair. 

    The pain in her chest seems to have gone deeper, and wrapped its sharp talons into her heart. Her tears become purposeful; there’s a reason behind them not. She wishes there was someone there to hold her hair. To rub her back and tell her it was all going to be okay. To bring her the glass of pedialyte of her bedside table and coax her to drink it because she’d forgotten it. 

 Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, y/n gets up and flushes the toilet, wiping down the toilet seat with paper from the roll. The blanket, still curled around her ankles, she picks up and hoists it over her shoulders. She gurgles water from the sink before heading out, avoiding making eye-contact with the horrendous image in her mirror. 

Pedialyte goes down like the gin did last night, and she throws in the pills when she drinks, simultaneously pulling the strings so her blings flip downwards and cut off the light coming in from the outside. Quickly, she strips from the itchy Selena ensemble, and slips on a red t-shirt with the Kool-Aid man’s face on it over her head. Y/n has learned that its worse to go to bed and not eat, so she doesn't get back into bed, even though she really wants to and instead throws the blanket on top of her scattered pillows, and turns to make breakfast in her impossibly tiny kitchen. 

She lives in a little lofty space in the downtown area. The cheapest of all her options, and the best kept compared to the rest. The windows were blackened around the edges, and her air conditioner didn’t work, but hey, at least she had a roof over her head that she didn’t have to share with her parents. And she liked the window wall, too, and how the windows propped open on hinges. The way her brick walls looked during golden hour. It was very pretty. Relaxing. 

Slowly but surely, she’s built herself a little home that she feels comfortable in. In her tiny little space, her favorite thing was her radio. An absolute steal at the thrift store: a really old radio with big knobs and the red line that moved left and right when you tried to pick a station. She went to it now, and turned it on at a soft volume. The song that always feels like it's about a one winged dove by Fleetwood Mac came on, and she hums it softly while she turns on the stove. It click, click, clicks on when the gas catches flames, and she pours oil into a pan to crack an egg over it. The white edges sizzle, and bits of oil jump up and splash onto her skin. It happens so much it doesnt hurt her; she doesn't even flinch.  When the egg begins to turn golden, she turns down the knob, and goes back to her fridge in search of an avocado. Call her a trend follower, but she’d be damned if egg and avocado didn’t hit the spot. Plus, she makes an ace toast. 

Surprisingly, the smell of egg (her dad likes to say eggs smell like ass) doesn’t upset her stomach, no. Actually, her stomach grumbled when she smelled it, and the ache that had begun to spread across the lower region of her abdomen made her hurry to cut open the avocado, and pop in a slice of sourdough bread into the toaster. She fore-went mayo that time, instead just wanted to get something into her burning stomach because she was so hungry. Her eyes blearily while she does all this. 

By the time she’d spread her avocado and egg of the long slices of bread, the radio was playing Girls Just Wanna Have Fun By Cindy Lauper and y/n is doing a little happy dance on her way to her wicker table by the window, next to the bookshelf resting against her wall. Before she sat down, she reached for a novel on the shelf, and set it alongside her plate on the table. 

Biting into her toast, she opened the book. 

    Dani’s cheeks blushed a wine-pink color. She looked away.

“You confuse me so,” she mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. 

“How?” He grazed her jaw with gentle fingers, enough to turn her so she’s looking at him.

“You say that what we have, this spectacle we put on, is simple only to convince the people you will be a good king, but them you look at me… like that.”

“Like what? Like I want to kiss you?” he whispered, smiling faintly. “Because I do.” 

She seemed not to know what to say, and resolutely, she turned so she sat facing forward between his spread thighs, back to him. 

He realized then, that her shyness had caught up with her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and set his chin on her shoulder. 

“I’m no expert in etiquette, Your Highness, but I’m sure this is high;y improper.” She sait, stiffly and primly while he cuddled her.

“Proper? They call me Rafe the Rake. I’d say, my little peach, that we passed proper a long time ago.” 

“Don’t call me that,” she mumbled. 

“What do you wish I call you then?”

“Dani.” 

He chuckled at her response. “It’s a hellions name. It suits you well, all right. You can call me Rafe, if you like.”

“I do not wish to call you Rafe.” “No?”

“It’s a scoundrel’s name. I wish to call you Rafael. Like the angel.” 

“An optimist, aren’t you?” Rafael began combing his fingers through her hair, sifting through the silking

strands then massaging down her neck and shoulders.

She sank back into his chest with a sigh. “That feels wonderful.” 

“I should probably warn you,” he leans forward so that his lips are pressed against the shell of her ear. “I’m rather gifted with my hands.” She tensed again when he leaned down and nibbled on the skin of her neck, but Rafael left her melt in his arms when he continued his sensual massage on her shoulders. “Are you uneasy with this?” He paused to take her hands into his own, feeling as if he were young again with the first girl he had taken a liking towards.

“No,” she said quietly.

“Good.” With fingers still threaded through hers, he drew her hands back, and pinned her arms ever so gently behind her for a moment, gazing down her neckline at her creamy chest. Her breasts her small, but awfully perky and firm. He wondered if he could fit the entirety of one in his mouth. He bet that she’d like it if he did. 

Y/n paused for a moment, and clenched her thighs together. A buzzing feeling was starting to form on her clit, and she felt the space where her thighs touch grow warm. The Kool-aid man’s eye popped with hoe erect her nipples were. She was aroused. And she knew that the feeling would only grow more intense the longer she read, which she planned on doing. So, she picked up her plate, placed it in the sink, and took her and her book into her dark room. 

    Her novel, Our Sign of the Times by Lemus Knox was tatted and bent this way and that from all the times she’s cracked the pages open for a steamy read. A painting of a bodacious woman and handsome prince posing in front of a castle adorned the front cover (one of the main reasons why she bought it). The was was strong, with raven hair and a strong jaw that portured strongly as he kissed the brunette woman in a lilly gown that he held in his arms. The castle was cottage like, with ivy covered walls and stone hedges; complete with a moat and bridge wrapping around the area. The author, Lemus Knox, painted the image himself, as he say so in the acknowledgements. No one knows who he is, how old he is, where he lives, or anything else about him really. A pseudonym, he says. A way to keep his life private life and still do what he loves to do: write.Y/n stumbled upon his book two years ago, in the best sellers section at Barnes and Nobles, and has been slowly falling in love with him and his characters ever since.

    When she settled back into her blankets, y/n opened her book, and placed a single hand on her tummy, over the Kool-aid man’s mouth.

    “It’s getting dark,” she said rather breathlessly, “don’t you think it’s time we head back?”

    “I like being on the water at night. You can’t see. You can only hear the wares and you have to feel,” he teasingly brushed his fingers over the tops of her breasts, “your way back to shore. Feel your way through the dark.” He whispered into her ear,one of his hands splaying on her stomach and pushing back up, up, up to her breasts. “A man has to know exactly what he’s doing.” 

    She arched against him with a soft catch in her breath as he finally cupped her small breast in his large hands; her generous nipples turned hard underneath his circling thumbs. 

    “Rafael,” she moaned breathlessly, arms wrapped against his neck as she pushed her swollen mounds against his roaming hands. “We can’t. We’re not married yet.”

    “Oh, my sweet love.” Rafael’s hands slid back down against her belly and began stroking her thighs. “I don’t plan on deflowering you yet. I simply wish to learn what it is you like.”

    “But… I do not know what I like.” Her words were gasps of dreamy pleasure. 

    “Then I guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?” 

    Knowingly, y/n’s hand began to follow the same path that Rafael’s had. Thumbs circling against swollen nipples, fingertips teasing the insides of her thighs.

    Her head was cushioned against his chest, and she turned her fact to him, seeking his mouth in innocent yearning. He lowered his head, and parted her lips with long strokes of his tongue into her sweet mouth, savoring the way she tasted. She reached up, and caressed his cheek as they kissed in slow, soulful agony. 

While she ran her fingers through his unbound hair, Rafael deftly inched her skirts upward over her exquisite legs. His heart pounded as she let his hands roam under the gathered layers of silk gown and muslin petticoat. He groaned into her lips when his fingers came to the edge of her white stockings, and found tenderly warm skin. His groin flooded with heat and his body turned rock hard in an instant. Unwilling to push her beyond what she was currently willing to give him, Rafael fought to keep his needs in check. 

Having been with many of the calculating damsels of the court, he knew that Dani was unlike them. She was soft, fragile, small, so precious in his arms. And while she may think herself independent, Rafael wanted nothing more than to hold her close and protect her, as much as he wanted to give her glimpses of what was in store for the night of their wedding. 

Under her dress, he took his time exploring, kneading, caressing her belly, her hips, all the while devouring her mouth. Behind closed eyelids, he smiled to himself when she began to writhe and twist in his hold, virginal madness getting the best of her. 

“Rafael, Rafael,” her voice grew drunk with urgent need. 

When he stroked her at her ore, he was more than pleased to find she was soaked with silky wetness, throbbing under his fingertips with pure female invitation. 

“Dani,” he mumbled against her earlobe, as her took her skirts with his empty hands and raised them higher and higher. “Would you like to watch?”

“NO! I couldn’t.” Her chest heaved. “Don’t make me.”

“Watch me touch you.” he murmured as his fingertips began to circle. “There’s nothing to be ashamed  of, my darling. I only want to fulfill your desires. Watch me pleasure you. Look at how beautiful you are , your sweet body. My wild, virgin love.” 

“Oh , Rafael!” she turned and kissed him ardently. A burning moisture inexplicably rose behind his eyelids, and quickly fled as their kiss ended. 

    He kissed the curve of her neck, moved by his shy uncertainty as she lowered her heat to watch as he touched her, panting slightly. She was so ready, he thought in pure agony as his hardness chafed against her back through their clothes. It would have been easy to take her then and there, on the warm glossy planks of the deck, but her repeatedly shoved that temptation aside, vowing to prove his respect for her by making their wedding night her first time.

        Y/n, too, was panting as she continued to read, her vision growing blurry with pleasure and need. 

    His thumb deftly teased her jeweled center, while his middle finger gently stroked inside her tight, fluid heat ,and as he kissed her ear and the back of her neck.

    Y/n threw the book aside, letting her own hands take the pace it needed to to bring her to her high. HEr slender fingers deftly pumped in and out of her slick hole, the hand that was holding her book now rubbing fast circles against her swollen button.  Wet mewls left her swollen lips, and her chest arched to meet hands that weren't there. The feeling of clenching in her abdomen and a squirming need something increased. 

    She left herself clenching on nothing, pinching her pert nipples with damp fingers as she rubbed faster and harder circles onto her mound. 

    “Fuck, fuck fuck,” she gasped under her breath, a long groan escaping her as she felt it instenifsy; anticipation of water nearly spilling. It hit her like a splash of cold water, her head thrown back against her pillows with her mouth open; a scream and no sound. Her body felt electrifies, her veins fueled by fire. 

    And when it died out,

    She fell back like a ragdoll, limp and tired onto her sheets. Y/n was all droopy eyelids and noodle limbs after her orgasm. 

    She fell back asleep with sticking fingers on top of her red Kool-Aid man t-shirt.

.

.

“... you know what I mean?”

“So… you don’t want a beach theme?” y/n asked. Karime, dressed in another silk dress, but this time in floral red pattern, was having a very hard time identifying the theme she wanted for her Aromatherapy cafe/library. 

“No, but I just want like, beach-y vibes. Airy? Ooopen. Yes, open.” 

“So plants,” Y/n jotted bulleted notes into her planner, in a blank section under ‘Karime’. “White and green color scheme. Open, clear room.” 

The two are standing at Karime’s shop, three streets away from Rockstar; an alarmingly vast space with plain walls and counters. Y/n has a lot of blank canvas to work with, and much to improvise because Karime wasn’t being exact with her vision. She hadn’t even set up a moodboard like she said she was because ‘an LA girl has a wild life you know, hun?’ 

Y/n truly wished she didn’t know. 

“Okay now, what’s your budget?”  she asked, her tone businesslike but full of warmth and interest. 

“Um, how much do you think you’ll need?” Karime wasn’t looking at her, no, she was picking at her cuticles, and pushing them back with her thumbs; her nails had grown and blank space separated the polish from her skin. Karime was across y/n, behind the quick-serve counter where smokey machines and masks where all lined up; one for each stool. 

“Plants are expensive. If you want big and already grown plants, they’re expensive- ranging from $20 to, I don't know… maybe $80?” Y/n taps her pen on her chin. “Furniture, and other wall decor I can craft and thrift, so that right there is maybe $200? $400 tops.” 

“Okay.” Karime said, shrugging her shoulders with a crescent moon smile on her pink lips, “I’ll write you a check for $3,000 to start. I don’t want anything from second-hand like Goodwill or anything like that. I’ll give you addresses to pre-selected antique stores and the likes. Now, you mentioned something about measurements?”

“Yes! Thanks for reminding me,” she’d forgotten all about that, and it truly is a key process in the decor department. “Do you happen to have a measuring tape?”

“Actually, yes. There’s one in the back, I’ll go get it.” Karime pushed herself off the granite table top, and turned on her heel to walk through a golden confetti curtain, leaving y/n seated at the counter.  

For a moment. She fiddled with the tubes coming from the humidifying machine in front of her, an opaque purple bowl with two tubes sticking out from opposite sides that connect to facemasks that cover your mouth. They’re cool to the touch, but warm when her fingers linger. A humming sound emits from the machine when she accidentally presses the start button, and she pushes it again in a panicked state to make it stop. She decides it’s best if she stops messing around with expensive machinery, and instead turns to looking at the small amount of people that are in the shop.  

There’s no one really up and about at 10 in the morning on a Sunday. The few that were, came with laptops to do work in the library section of the shop, with coffees on their tables, or some kind of breakfast, which had to be from somewhere else because Karime didn’t have a menu for food. Just drinks.

One of these really risers, a man who hunched over a sticker covered Mac, looked strangely familiar. Y/n was staring at his choice of clothing (a worn down Brittney Spears shirt with jeans and rolled at the ankles and pristine white vans) when he turned to look at her. It was then, looking onto his dazzling green eyes and watching his taffy pink lips curl into a smile and a hand coming up in a small wave, did y/n recognize that it was the stranger that recognized her Halloween costume a few days ago.  

Cheeks heating with clear embarrassment, y/n raised her own hand and timidly twiddles her fingers. She mouthed hello and tried to keep from cringing when he raised a finger to rub under his nose to hide the way his lips twitch upwards. His nose scrunches and wiggles, and his eyes wrinkle at the corner, a cheeky gleam in his look.

“Y/n!” Karime, reappearing, held a ruler in her hand. A ruler. “This is the best we’ve got, babe.” 

Her head snaps from the familiar stranger to Karime, who smiled as if she’d just solved all their problems when she’d really just created more because measuring with a ruler? Seriously. Y/n curses at herself for forgetting to bring her own measuring tape. 

She has no other option than to nod, smile, and take the ruler, and start taking measurements.  

Like the hand-over-hand motions of steering a car, y/n has to place the ruler, mark where it ends with her nail, and repeat the process again and again. 

The walls, the patio, window space, countertops, tables, and the one she’s dreading to do: the dimensions of the room the stranger is sitting in. Karime’s place was split in two and a half. A small outdoor patio, the man space with tables and machines, and the library lounging space. The library lounge space, a doorway cut into a small cozy room to the left when you walk in. 

    She’d yet to go in there and measure the walls and bookshelves, putting in on to last in hopes that he’d leave because measuring with a ruler is really embarrassing and it’s possible that she’d be shuffling around him. 

God.

    Getting a grip, she pulled her shoulders back and walked into the room, counting how many steps it took to walk through the door frame. She felt like fingers trapped in a Chinese finger trap, constricted. 

Walking into the room, the stranger didn’t look up, instead he looked even more immersed in his work than ever. Eyebrows furrowed and fingers tapping away on his keyboard. He was even leaning into his computer screen, like he couldn’t get whatever it was he needed to type onto the screen fast enough. 

Sure enough, staring at him, lost in whatever it was he was typing, y/n stumbled on her own two feet, and an absurd noise escapes her lips when she tried to catch herself. 

She doesn’t turn to see if he’s looked at her (he did, with a grin that showed off his bunny-like teeth) and instead hangs her head and makes her way to the opposite wall. Great way to be inconspicuous, she thought to herself. 

The wall opposite the stranger, was tall, like the others were. And even though she was sure that it was most likely the same dimensions, she wasn’t going to take any chances. Pulling up a chair so she could stand on it once her arm couldn't reach anymore; huffing because Karime had those really heavy metal chairs that screeched if you didn’t pick them off the floor. Seven feet later, y/n had to step up on the chair, wobbling on her legs while she hiked up, pressing harder on the wooden ruler to make sure it’s place didn’t move.  

Her nail pins into the wall, at the end of the ruler, before using her other hand to move up the start of the ruler where her nail left off. When the ruler reached her hip, y/n stumbled leaned forward and effectively knocked out her balance so she was left flailing, falling, fa- 

Not falling. 

No, not falling, because two hands grip her hips, and pull her back on the chair to make sure she doesn't fall flat on her face. Her eyes are pinched un closed anticipation, waiting for the smashing of knees against the cold, hard floors but it never comes. 

“Gotcha!” says a deep british voice. A warm gust of minty wind flutters in y/n’s nose, and when she opens her eyes. Glittering green eyes, wispy strands of hair, and petal pink lips.

Right. In front. Of her face. 

“Selena, you’ve really got to be more careful,” he says, chuckling as his speaks so his words are broken with sounds of laughter. He’s even lifting her up from her leaned position off of the chair, and settling her down on the floor, biceps tightening and a humming noise coming from his throat as he does so. 

She’s flabbergasted. Doesn’t know what to say because she doesn’t think she’d ever been picked up before. Its ridiculous really, seconds away from eating shit on hard ass surface and all she can think about is how she was picked up. But jeez, who could blame her, the man was hot. 

    All sharp jawline, clavicles peeking out of his shirt, and the column of his throat such a nice pretty color. Quite handsome, really. 

    “Shit,” y/n finally manages to get out, her eyes wide, shoulders tense, and instinctively, her fingers are digging into his shoulders (though she’s not aware of it yet).  

    “You alright?” The man says, when he notices the way she’s gone rigid. He doesn’t say anything about the way her fingers are gripping at him.

    “Uhm, yes. I am now. Thank you…” Y/n’s voice comes out in breathy spurts, and her forehead glistens like she’s just run to catch the bus. That’s when she noticed where her fingers were placed; the way the white cloth dipped in from the amount of pressure she was exerting onto his skin. Cheeks turning a darker pink, she cleared her throat and avoided looking at him when she removed her hands. 

    “Harry” He mumbled. “My name’s Harry. Yours? Not quite sure if it’s Selena or not…”  

    “HA!” A loud exclamation, a bit too loud that it was awkward. “No. Not Selena. Y/n.” She looked into his eyes them, raising her chin the last inch to move from Brittney Spears face to his eyes. Eyes the color of light streaming through a tree leaves in a forest on a spring forest. Y/n sucks in a breath.

    “Well, wonderful to meet you, y/n.” He leans towards her, a ringed finger pointing jeeringly at the stick still in her hands. “I gotta say, measuring with a ruler?” 

    “Very efficient. As you can see,” She shakes the hand the ruler is in, and then uses the ruler to point at the seemingly innocent metal chair “You should try it sometime.”

    “Only if you catch me.” Harry grabs his own wrists behind his back, his shoulders hunching forwards and head shaking side to side a bit as his speaks. 

    It takes a moment for her to drink in what he’s said, to fully react with a scoff and a smile. “Catch you? I’ll hold you up on my shoulder’s myself.” 

“Then we’ll both end up sprawled on the floor, all roughed up and bruised.”

They both laugh at their jokes, and Harry even goes as far as to clap his jean clad knee. When it gets quiet, their laughs dying down, Harry speaks again.

“Saw you in the paper. Helped decorate Rockstar didn’t you?” 

Y/n’s jaw drops. Her lips opening and closing like a fish eating crumbs at the water’s surface. “The paper? What paper?” This was news to her. She was aware that the article James would write would be like, online or something. But a physical paper. That’s a little bigger. And him having remembered. Having identified her. 

“The local paper. WeHoVille.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, one side of his lips pulling up in a confused manner. “Was picking up a sleepy time tea and honey at the Wholefoods, and you painting was a feature next to the counter. Didn’t show your face, but I walked past that day and remembered.” 

    “The paper… wow. I didn’t know. But yes,”Y/n twirls the ruler on in circles with her fingers, putting all her weight on one hip so on of her feet could tap loosely on the floor. “I decorated Rockstar.” After a beat, “What’d you think about it?”

    “The place is amazin’!” A strand of Harry’s hair flops down to the space between his eyebrows and eyelashes, tickling his skin. He had to brush his fingers through his hair to comb it back.  “Love the feel of it. Gotta stop myself from going in everyday or might blow all my money on Stevie’s usual.”

    “That’s my favorite too! Next time you’re there, give me a wave down and I’ll have you covered.” Y/n’s offers had Harry’s eyebrows raised in seconds. “Least I could do, given you saved me from a concussion and all that.” She tried to explain, words coming out in a flurry from her mouth. 

He chuckles at her flustered stare, the same repressed smirk that he’d given her when he caught her staring. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” Silence and then, “What do you plan on doing with the place?” 

“Turn it into a greenhouse,” y/n said bluntly. The two were still standing next to the wall y/n was measuring, and Harry leaned one of his shoulders against it, moving his hands from behind his back to his front, wrapping one around the other one’s wrist.

    “That’ll be nice. Even more uh, how do you say, therapeutic? I guess more relaxing than the place already is. Karime said plants?” He asked. It didn’t quite settle with y/n that he knew Karime on a first name basis, that he was interested in knowing she picked plants, and she wanted so badly to say: Karime doesn’t know what she wants, but instead pushes that feeling away and goes with,

    “Well, she gave me a scope to work with. A color scheme. A gist. Certain decorations she wanted to see. So on and so on. Plants is just what I took from it. And it goes with her place because it has to deal with aromatherapy and all that. What do you think?”

    “I think you’ve hit it right on. Can’t wait to see what it’ll look like.” He raps a knuckle on the wall. “Did you still need wall measurements? I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again.” 

    Timidly, she responds, “Okay.”

    “Up you get, then.” Harry pointed to the chair, and y/n raises her leg to hike up, this time with Harry’s hands placed on her hips, steadying her. 

    A tiny dash on the wall where her nail slid off marks where she was at when she nearly fell off the metal chair, and this is where she places the ruler. She left off at 7 feet, the ruler at her hip. Resuming the same positions, she starts to wobble again, and Harry's hands tight, holding her straight. 

    She guesses he hears her gasp when she feels herself wobble because he says “I’ve gotcha.” 

    Y/n moved the ruler up one, two, and three more times, and then her arm can’t stretch anymore and pinches one eye closed to cry and guess how many more feet are left. She guessed four… ish. On a whim, she tries to push the ruler up once more, and her shirt rides up on the left side of her hips. Warm sequential breaths hit her skin, and a shiver drops down her spine when she realizes what’s happened. 

    Harry, ever the gentleman, doesn’t waste a second, and slides his pointer and middle finger over her skin, his warm fingers splaying over goosebumps to pinch her shirt and pull it down for her. 

    “All done,” she squeaks. “Coming back down.” 

    Harry released her, but offers her a hand and she takes it, holding on to his as she comes down, his palms warm and rings cool; a nice contrast. 

    “Thank you so much for h-”

    “Y/n?” 

    Booth Harry and y/n tun to the doorway that leads to the main room, where Karime stands with a checkbook in her hands. Y/n turns back to look at Harry. The curls behind his ears, the blonde hairs on his top lip. He turns to look at her, and gives her a closed lip smile. She smiles back and twiddles her fingers, mouthing a bye bye.

    Karime walks away when she sees that y/n is following her, and takes them both back to their position on the counter. 

   “Here’s the check. Two thousand dollars. Deposit it into your account, and use it for gas, furniture, anything that has to do with Aromareads you can pull from this.” She opens the book and tears out the slip of paper. “I will need receipts. And your name?” 

   Karime glances up at y/n, only to see that she’s busy looking back through the door frame at Harry. The manager is slightly irked at the fact that the person she’s hiring to reshape her business isn’t paying attention, but following her line of gaze, Karimer can’t blame her. Harry, a usual in her store, is a very very handsome man. Towering, with broad back and a neck Karime would love to bite into if she wasn’t gay. He sat at his laptop, thighs spread and eyes hard and stern, pondering with a pout. Karime is sure that what caught my/n’s attention is the way Harry’s thighs and crotch looked at that very moment, enticing, strong, sensual. 

    Clearing her throat, “Y/n. I need a full name to address the check.”

    Y/n’s neck snaps towards Karime, her hair getting caught on her lips at her velocity. “Uh- yes, sorry it’ll be Y/n Y/l/n.” 

    Karime repeated her name, and asked for her to spell it, which she did while stuttering mildy. 

    “Here you go.” Clicking her pen against the marble countertop, Karime handed the check to y/n. “Listen, by no means do I wanna pressure you, but if you could get this down before the holidays are in full force, I would love that.” 

    “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t take me that long.” 

    .

    .

    And it definitely didn’t. 

    On Monday, y/n spent the entire day (and part of her night) driving to most of the places Karime had sent her through a text. She spent a few minutes googling the places and looking through the pictures that came up and cursing every time it would redirect her to yelp- because really who has yelp? The antique stores were all spread out in the Los Angeles area.

    There was one in Long Beach. The pictures showed a really big warehouse with chair lying on top of each other and tables littered with little statues and the likes. Here she bought baskets. Tons of them. Gus (the owner) has dedicated an entire isle to them. When he saw y/n’s cart, the laughed then asked her “Why dolly, whadda ya need all them baskets for?” And when she told him it was for business, he offered her coupons and package deals. 

    “Tell ya what,” he scratched the scruff on his chin, the only hair he had because he was bald, “You buy all these baskets,” he pointed to her cart, “I’ll give you a twenty pa’cent discount on ya purchase, and if ya want, you can pick anathin’ ya want from over there because no one wants tuh buy them.” Then he pointed to a pile of books that lay haphazardly next to a stove and a turquoise refrigerator. She paid one hundred and fifty.

    She walked out with wicker baskets, one being a picnic basket she snatched for herself, lined nicely with red patterned cloth and a lid for it to close, and that same picnic basket full of regency novels from the 90’s.

    There was another in Laguna. A beachside thrift shop, where she paid for (very overpriced) frames of painted lighthouses and beach landscapes for that ‘beach’ factor Karime wanted. By this time, she drove back towards Hollywood to drop the items back at Aromareads because her car was getting full. She didn’t go inside, just unloaded the tings in the back and Karime took them inside. If she had, she would’ve seen Harry.

    Y/n then took to the shops in the downtown area. One being, a swapmeet type place where you walked through and looked at all the furniture. They set up different sections for different themes. Victorian, regal, animal skin themed, and a hall full of mirrors. Y/n bought a large 8x8 mirror for five hundred dollars. It would be delivered the following day.

    One of the sections was retro-themed, and she snapped a picture of a hip-height lava lamp and sent it to Lucy. Lucy then proceded to beg y/n through to text to please buy that I fucking need it. Will pay u back. So she bought it; $100 that she knew would be no big deal for Lucy given all the business she had. 

    Her final stop, were the flowers and plants district. There, she placed a large order for 30 succulents, and an assortment of nearly 100 leafy plants to fill the baskets with. She blew $1,000 there. 

    By the end of the day, she’d wasted nearly all of Karime’s check; a measly two hundred remaining after she refilled her car with gas (give or take some). Y/n met with Karime at around 6, in the back parking lot again, and left everything she’d bought. 

    “Oh! And the mirror should be delivered tomorrow before closing time.” 

    Karime was wearing a caramel turtle neck and black slacks tucked into latex ankle boots, her hair pinned back and tied into a spiky ponytail. Her ears were adorned with pearl earrings, and her fingers were jammed into golden rings. Y/n felt embarrassed in her measly purple jumper and paint splattered mom jeans.  Her accessories consisted of a fanny pack full of nails and a hammer at her waist.

    “Good, good. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow-” Karime was already turning back and returning into the shop when Y/n said:

    “Actually I was hoping I could start now.” Her words lifted into a question at the end, half suggesting half stating. 

    Karime’s face morphed into one of confusion and surprise, but in the end she agreed, and told y/n to do as she pleased.

Upon first entering, y/n is disoriented. 

    She walks into a frenzy of… nothing. It’s like an industrial kitchen, but completely empty. Occupied only by the things she had brought in. She remembers that she walked into the back and not the front, and it made sense because Karime doesn’t offer anything that would require use of the kitchen. Everything she has is done at the bar by the barista outside. 

    Karime leaves y/n in the back, where she asses her items. The baskets. The frames. And well, that’s really all there is. It would be more with all the plants coming in. She realizes that she doesn’t really have much to work with and there really isn’t much to do than hang picture frames, and there’s only five of them. 

    Nonetheless, she goes outside with the first frame in hand. A soft blue painting of a lighthouse on an island with light from a hole in a cloudy sky shining on the building. When she picked this one up, she knew exactly where it would go. By the wall next to the sliding door that lead to the patio. She sauntered over to the spot then, dodging a woman on her boyfriend on her way there. It was packed, and rightfully (it was a tuesday).

    She reached the spot, and lifted the picture on the wall, lifting and tilting so it would fit naturally. Eventually, she found the sweet spot, and reached for the hammer she had stuck into her belt loop and the box of nails she’d placed into the fanny pack on her waist. 

    Without hesitation, she put the first nail on the wall, and started banging. Three taps in, and she hung the wire on the nail, balancing it so it looked the way she envisioned it. After she was done, y/n stepped back to admire her handiwork, and tilted her head to the side the way one does when their looking at a picture that’s upside down. 

    Perfect. 

    She walked around the shop then, with the purpose of noticing empty spots on the walls, anything that could be filled up with artistry. The simple tables? No they had to stay that way. Placing something on the tables would clutter them and tarnish the ‘relax’ mode people came in for. The window that faced the street? Yes. Y/n planned on lining them with hanging droopy plants on the edges, not obscuring but not leaving a clear view either. She’d have to buy shelves to place baskets on the walls. Hooks to hang them. This she would do with what was left from the check.

     Yet… something was missing. The alternative-ness she knew should be there. Something ‘hippie’ and ‘aesthetic’, off the minimalist side of things. 

    Looking into a corner where the walls met, a light bulb went off. She knew exactly what was missing. Letters. Y/n had seen an image on Pinterest not even less than a month ago. A picture of a string of letters. Or rather, a message. It said something along the lines of  ‘You are my light’ or something edgy like that. Each word had been hand cut and strung onto a piece of- she didn’t know, string? Tweed? A wire?- and hung in a corner of a room where walls met. It knocked off every box on the checklist. Minimalist. Crafty. Aesthetic. And cheap, considering how low the money was.

She knew she’d have to brainstorm phrases and pass them by Karime, but she’d worry about that later.

    .

    .

    It was Friday. One day after the plants had been delivered, and y/n was set to work full force. Sure, she’d have to work amongst customers, but no matter. It would get done. 

    She started in the back. With the plants. 

    Y/n had bought a plastic-type lining at the Home Depot to place soil in the baskets. She lined then all first, securing the material with tape around the edges. After, came the transfer and placement. She decided this would be a better method, and if there were extras she could have Karime sell them. This way, she wouldn’t overcrowd the place and stop when she saw an adequate fill of green. 

    The first, a circular basket with no handle the color of a waffle cone. Because it was one that would go on a shelf, she placed one of the droopiest plants in it, a green stream of vines and shrubby leaves.

    Last night, y/n had given Karime the benefit of the doubt, and allowed her to place shelves where she’d liked them So, before she opened at 7, Karime had decorated her store with wooden slabs for y/n to decorate. Taking the first plant, she walked out. 

   As expected, Aromareads was bustling with energy.     Women with mojitos in their hands, burnt out college kids hooked up to masks, older men and women laughing like tinkling bells. 

   She’s walking towards the first row of shelves she sees on the wall across from her, besides the sliding doors, basket held gingerly with both hands, when she hears:

   “Y/n!” 

   Looking to her left, she sees a sleepy, just-rolled-out-of-bed looking Harry. He’s wearing a black hoodie with the words ‘Treat people with kindness’ in a gradient rainbow color, and… and grey sweatpants. Grey. Sweatpants. 

   Grey sweatpants. 

   Y/n tries not to visibly swallow him whole as he walks towards her with an innocent smile on his face because god if she isn’t all hot and bothered right now. Her eyes seem to be magnetically attracted to his crotch, trying but failing to grasp and image of what may be lying underneath. 

“H-hey, Harry,” she smiles at him meekly, her voice cracking when she speaks. She cleared her throat and said again, “hey, Harry. S’nice to see you.” 

   “Nice to see you too.” He bows his head towards her, and endearing mannerism that has y/n’s heart pooling down to her ribcage. “I see you’ve brought out the green guns today.” A teasing grin on his extra red and shiny lips. Perhaps it was chapstick. It was rather windy outside.

   “You see correctly.” She giggles at his joke, at the same time, rolling her eyes at how cheesy he was being. “Today’s the day it all comes together.” 

“I’m excited to see how it all turns out. Don’t go falling on any chairs today alright?” He wags his finger at her, mocking a mother shunning her child.

“I’ll try not to. But if I do-” she said, coquettishly. 

“I’ll catch you.” 

“You better.” Laughing at him, she repeats his actions and lifts her finger up to point at him. 

   With a final laugh and a shake of his head, Harry walks away and into the working room. 

   Y/n watches him walk off, and walks off her own way as well, resting the basket against her hip as she went. When she reached the wall with shelves arranged in a checkered pattern, she placed the basket on top of the wooden plank, and tufted leaves so they look naturally messily placed. Unintentionally intentional; they way one teases their hair so it looks nice. 

   She went back to her work station: the now full kitchen, and repeated the process. Picked a basket, filled it with a plant, and took it outside. She left the hooks for last, wanting to leave of being in the way of people until she had too. Almost effortlessly, y/n filled Karime’s space with greenery. Cacti on shelves, large leaves and vines on walls, frames of beach paintings on nails. Once, she pricked her finger because her it had accidentally slipped inside the glass globe in which the succulent was in. 

    When the time finally came to walk into the room Harry was in, the outside was looking rather… forest-y. She liked the way it looked; a calm type of chaos. One that showed relaxation and no care for anything. Which was the point of the entire place. Come in. Relax. Breathe in from diffusers to get that extra push to decompress.

   Harry sat in his usual spot, directly in spot of the doorway, in one of the middle tables. Hunched over his computer with fingers flying over his keyboard. He had earphones in this time, white buds tucked right into his ears, stray strands of hair looping and covering them. His lips were placed in a puckered pout, the scrunched pink skin twitching from left to right.

    Humming to herself, y/n forces herself to walk past him, forces herself to not turn back and glance at Harry even if she can feel his gaze burning into her back. She makes it seem like the hook and plant in her hand are the most interesting things in the world. Turning it over in her fingers, and even going as far as to lift the basket (this on with a handle and curved bowl bottom) to her nose and smell it. 

    “Need a hand with that?” Harry says from behind her. She feels his presence from behind her, standing close enough that she can feel when he reaches to her front and takes the basket from her hands.  Y/n’s heart starts beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings. Closing her eyes to get a hold of herself, all she sees is green. Green, the color of his eyes.

   “Yes, please.” Her voice is small, shy.

    Harry, feeling bold, nudged the tip of his nose on the hair behind her ear. Enough to make her notice, but not enough to make her completely sure that it was there. “Where do you want it?” He says, breath hot on the shell of her ears. Her eyes widen, and her body goes on full alert. She’s suddenly aware of the closeness of his hips on hers, the brushing of the fabric on her the back of her hand.

    “Up…” Y/n steps forward, towards the wall. She places her finger on the smooth surface, and traces it over to where she wants it, doing loopty-loops to her desired spot. “...here.”

  He places the nail on the wall, hits it with the hammer that y/n gives him and hooks the basket as well. He turns to her when he’s done.

  “Got any more?” He asks, placing a hand on his hip.

  “Yeah, in the back. Wanna come help me?” Y/n points with a thumb to the doorway, half of her body turning as well.   

    “Lead the way.” 

    So they leave together to the backroom, y/n holding open the golden curtain for Harry to walk through. He looks around endearingly, his neck stretching and eyes darting from place to place as he takes in his surroundings. Y/n is stuck at the expression on her face, her heart strings pulling when her ears listen to the soft giggle that escapes his lips.

So they leave together to the backroom, y/n holding open the golden curtain for Harry to walk through. He looks around endearingly, his neck stretching and eyes darting from place to place as he takes in his surroundings. Y/n is stuck at the expression on her face, her heart strings pulling when her ears listen to the soft giggle that escapes his lips.

    “S’very nice back here.” 

    “Wanna grab a few baskets? Place ‘em in the lounge?” 

    “Sure thing.” Harry wraps his hand around the handle of three baskets at the same time, and with the other, he grabs the still-packaged hooks and wait for y/n by the doorway. She hurried to grab two succulents, and met Harry at the doorway. They had an awkward moment of deciding who’s going first. A huffle of backwards and forwards until eventually, Harry held his palm out to allow her to go through while biting his lip. Y/n ducked her head and felt the tips of her ears go warm. 

    “So, I tried Elton John yesterday.” He said, trailing behind y/n into the lounge like a little puppy. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. 

    “Oh? How was it?” She replied, juggling the two glass casings in her hand, and then pricking herself again. She flinches, but doesn’t make any noises. 

    “Think I might have a new favorite,” he said, bashfully ducking his own head and peeking at her through his hair. Her heart fluttered, and if it could, she was sure it would bust out with the dreamy sighs she suppressed.

    “It’s that serious?” She asked. 

    “It’s that serious.” They reach the lounge, and y/n sets the succulents she carries in her hands down on a table.  “Have you had it yet?” Her stretches her hands out to Harry, signaling for him to give her his items. 

    “No, not yet. Should probably give it a try if its changed your mind. Can you pass me a hook?”  Harry gives her all four packages he holds in his one hand. When she wraps her hand around them, her finger brushes against the chubby part of his hand. 

    “Here you go- I only drank it ‘coz like, I’m on this diet thing and needed a drink with oat milk in it. Elton’s was the first one I saw. Woke me right up, too.” 

    “Diet you say?” y/n took the hammer and walked over to her desired stop, a few feet away from the one Harry had put in. 

    “Some altered version of keto. Had a really bad bug, had me feeling icky and ‘just decided it was the best.” He takes place next to her, watching as she positioned the nail and hit it a few times with the hammer. He held out a basket on his finger when she was done. She was a whirlwind, he thought. Busy little bee, never stopping. Harry nearly feels bad because she’s so full of energy, bouncing back from the table to the wall and arranging plants before he could even blink. “S’not fair. Not letting me do any work.” A pout appears on his lips, eyes teasing.

    “You just stand there and look pretty. I’ve-” she points to herself, finger at her chin. “Got this.” 

    Harry grumbles something that she doesn’t catch with his chin tucked into his neck. 

“What was that?’ she hums. 

    “‘Said, can’t exactly be pretty ‘coz you took that job too.” 

    Y/n’s hands still. Immediately, she feels her chest grow red roses blooming on her cheeks. She’s not exactly… embarrassed, per say. No. The familiar feeling of ants running wildly in her lower stomach began to burn, her ribcage tickling as butterflies try to creep out with beating wings. Pretty. He had called her pretty. 

    “Uhm, thank you?” 

    “You’re very welcome, darling.” His tone of voice is smug. And when she looks over at him with eyebrows raised, he’s biting his lip and his looking at her through his eyelashes like he had before, but there was no childish play in it this time. 

    “Say,” she picks up a succulent. “What’s it with you?” 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugs.

“Lovin’ all up on me.”  She puts the succulent back down.

“S’nothing wrong with lovin’ all up on a pretty girl.”

There it is again. Pretty girl. Y/n is on fire her entire face pink, color concentrated on her cheeks and nose as if she had taken a walk in the brisk wind. 

“Stop it,” she said. 

Harry’s face turns concerned, brows kissing and lines appearing on his forehead. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” All work is forgotten, and instead they stand facing each other. 

“No! No, no,” Y/n’s eyes widen and her hands waving back and forth to eradicate the thought of her being disturbed by him. “S’just,” she sighs. “Not used to it, is all.”

Upon hearing this, Harry’s face breaks into a smile. “Well then,” he starts. “Better get used to it.” 

“Oh, you.” She playfully slaps his shoulder and picks up the succulent again, this time actually going to put it on a shelf adjacent to the window; a little alcove Karime has placed in a weird spot.

“When do you get a break?” 

“I think I get to take it whenever I want, why?”     “Wanna head down to Rockstar? Craving a Madonna right about now.”

“Never pegged you as a Madonna guy,” (the Madonna was a sweet caramel iced coffee with whipped cream and chocolate chips; not actually what Madonna would drink, and the beverage itself being one of the few inaccurate ones). “Let me finish with this, and I’ll let Karime know.”

So she did, much faster with Harry’s help. He handed her nails, hooks, and the plants she asked for. He asked if he could leave his stuff in the back, and he followed her back there once again, ticking his bag into an empty cupboard next to y/n’s things. On her way out, she said a quick goodbye to Karime who she was sure didn’t even hear what she said. 

Harry and her walked the short block side by side, with him playfully knocking his shoulder into hers and smiling like a mushy schoolboy when she pushed him back. They made small talk about drinks and the weather, shoulders hunched up and chins tucked in because it was a little cold.   Y/n’s frayed highschool sweater wasn’t doing much to keep her warm, and she had half the wind to pull her hood up the way Harry had his. 

Looking over at his, his nose was going a bit raw. Pink and the skin around it a little pale. By the time he noticed she was looking at him, they’d reached Rockstar, and he was opening the door for her. Murmuring a small thank you she walked through, and stepped to the side to wait for him to step inn as well, given he’d held the door open for the few people that had been walking behind him as well. From inside, she could see him nodding and smiling at everyone who stepped in. 

“You wanna grab a table and I’ll get the drinks?” she says to him when he appears next to her with hands in his hoodie pocket; she’s craning her neck to meet his eyes.

    “Sure. I’ll be in the records?” He takes one hand out to point over to where the records are.

    “Okay.” Y/n nods and head to the counter, where Lucy is busy taking someone’s order. She only see y/n when she walks behind the person and makes a silly face at her. Lucy laughs, but continues taking the order, and y/n pushes through the doors to put on an apron and make her and Harry’s drink. 

“Well if it isn’t y/n!” Says Kim.

“Y/n! Girly its been forever,” Kelsey bumps her hip when y/n get to work alongside her at the steaming machine.  

“Yes, yes, I know. Missed my favorite baristas.” she giggles, bumping her hip a little harder and making Kelsey gasp in faint shock. “Where’s Tilly?”

“Called in sick. Poor think could barely speak.” replied Kelsey. Y/n hummed a response, and made her drink first, a hot chocolate, and set it to the side to allow it to cool down meanwhile she made Harry’s. When Kelsey noticed her reaching for another measuring cup after just making her own she says,

“Two drinks?”

“Got a friend waiting for me in the records.” Y/n explained, pumping an extra pump of caramel into the cup. She puts in less ice too, and extra chocolate chips and whipped cream. 

    “The records…” Kelsey craned her neck out of where customers pick of their drinks to peek tp the records section. “Wait, wait, the one in the hood?”     “Yep,” said y/n, unbothered as she capped Harry’s drink.

    “Y/n!” Kelsey hissed, “He’s hot!” 

    “Yes, Kelsey, I am aware.” Y/n rolls her eyes and picked up both drinks, turning on her heels to walk out but nearly bumps into Kim, who stood not even an inch away from her. She backs up instantly.

    “So are you and he a thing?” He asked, leaning in closer to y/n’s face,his breath smelling on the ramen he always ate during his lunch break. 

    Y/n, uncomfortable by his closeness, tried walking around him but he stepped to the side. “It’s none of your business Kim.”

    “You never accept my dates, but you’ll accept his?” Kim’s tone is angry, and when he takes a step towards her, Kelsey steps in front of her.

    “Kim, leave her alone.” Kelsey says, turning back to y/n and nodding her head in the direction y/n was heading. When she pushes past the swinging doors, she catches a bits of what Kelsey says to him in a harsh whisper, “just wait until Lucy hears about this.” 

    “Haarryy,” Y/n says in a sing-song voice, dodging people as she makes her way to the records. Harry’s standing with  a record in his hand, legs spread apart and leaning back a bit with  his other hand tucked into his opposite armpit. “Here’s your John.” 

    Harry takes the plastic cup from her, giggling as he looks at her. 

    “What’s so funny?” she asks, genuinely confused.

    “Still wearing your apron,” Harry wraps his lips around the straw, tongue poking out to lap at it and take it into his mouth as y/n tries really hard not to stare.

    Looking down at herself, y/n shrugs, and leaves it on, taking a seat on the nearest loveseat and wrapping her now empty hand around the warm cup. 

    “What did you get?” He asked her. 

    “Willy wonka.” She brings the cup to her lips, tilting it up slowly and her mouth waters when she catches the scent of the foaming chocolate. Harry takes a seat next to her, his thigh touching her jean-clad one. He sits with them spread, leaning back in an eased position, and y/n eyes jump down to the bunched grey fabric at his crotch. And… well, there’s a larger than normal bulge through the fabric, drawstrings bending over the imprint, and y/n chokes on her drink. Some of it sputters out onto her apron. 

    “Still hot?” She nods. “ Gotta be careful, love. Who picked the names?”

    Y/n looks over at him, head tilting to the side with eyes squinting. “Picked what?”

    The cloudy skylight streamed in softly, casting a soft grey glow on Harry’s side profile. “The names for the drinks. Who picked them?” He holds his drink in one hand, straw near his face so all he had to do was maneuver his wrist to the plastic tube was in his mouth. 

    “Lucy did. Well, for most of them. I picked Andre 3000, Madonna, Willy Wonka and made the drinks myself. They’re not accurate though.” She sipped from her drink. “The rest of them are.” 

    “How much of this decor did you do? Like, concepts and stuff.” Harry takes out the tucked hand to wave around, and then tucks it back in. 

    “Concepts? Hmm…” she trails off for a moment. “All of them. I don’t want to say that I made this place myself, because I wouldn’t have done it without Lucy’s guidelines, but I went out, bought the furniture. Everything you see me doing at Karime's, I did here… ‘cept Karime’s is just plants and this,” she waves around her in a gesture and leaves it at that.

    “Do you decorate apartments?” He asked.

    “W-what?” Y/n, in the middle of a sip, and very surprised at his question, stuttered at his 

    “‘Coz mine’s looking kinda bland right now, was thinking maybe you could help me put some life into it.” 

    “Harry, I-”

    “Kinda like the Rockstar vibes, but like, a little less on the trendy side? I dunn-” Harry isn’t looking at her, his eyes wandering and landing on everything but her. 

    “Harry.” she said a little more sternly, putting a stop to his little rant. He looked at her then, his expression  unreadable. “I’m not sure you want me to help you decorate your home.”

    “Why not? You’d be helping me is all, and I love the way you’ve made Aromatherapy and Rockstar look.” He licks his lips, moving his head to the side and bringing the straw into his mouth with his tongue (that y/n stare at for longer than necessary).

    “But it’s your home.”

    “I am aware. Help me make it more me.” He shifts his body towards her then, his knee bending so he chest is to her. “Please?” He makes the face Puss in Boots made in that one movie, y/n couldn’t remember then because Harry looked much cuter than that dumb cat did.

    Y/n tosses this idea around in her head. Helping Harry decorate his home. She was scared, not only because Harry was cute, but because home was a personal and private space to be calm and safe. What if she screwed it all up and then Harry was uncomfortable in his own home? What is she did such a shit job that, that- well such a bad job that a horrible result came out of it again. This thing with Harry, a budding friendship? She barely knew the guy, just that he had an affinity for showering her with compliments and he made her turn more red than that really bad sunburn she got in the 10th grade after she refused to put on sunblock on a trip to a pool resort. What her point was, is that decorating someone’s home- a place where the heart is pure- is a really big job. 

    “Of course, this would be after you’re done with Karime’s place. Don’t wanna stress you out or anything like that.” A nike shoe, white and crisp looking like it had come straight out of the box, pressed into his thigh when he wrapped a hand around his ankle and pulled his bent leg in tighter.  “Whadda ya say?”

After hemming and hawing a few times, y/n finally says, “Okay. But you’re gonna have to be one million times more specific okay?” She elbows him, his position causing her elbow to poke at his pec instead of his bicep, and y/n elbows into hard muscle. 

    “Heyyy, can’t go hurting the girls now,” He rubs over where he poked her, and pouts childishly, even going as far as sticking his tongue out at her. “Do you need to head back? I don’t wanna get you into any trouble, y/n.”     The use of her name makes her heart skip a beat. “Yes, we should probably get going.” She moves to get up, and accidentally places her hand on Harry’s thigh. Before she would say sorry for touching him, he says,

    “Alway using me to hold yourself, huh? Sneaky thing, I see what you’re doin.” 

    “You offered! Said it yourself, I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again,” she deepened her voice, and faked a british lilt as best she could. 

    “I do not sound like that,” He whined. 

    He got up right after her, grabbing her hand to ‘pull’ himself back up, but he was really just holding it. His hand was cooler than hers (because he’d used the hand that had been holding his iced coffee) and enormous around hers. If he tried, he could close his finger tips and they’d be overlapping. When he was fully stood up, he reached around her neck, and lifted the black strap over her head, transfering the cloth over to the hand that held his cup, and then reaching again, this time around her waist to undo the knot. His front, not even a full step away from hers, and y/n got a whiff of detergent and something else she could only describe as ‘clean man’. If she were a shark, this would’ve been the moment her eyes turned black and rolled to the back of her head. 

    “There you go, no longer look like a little barista.” He hung the apron over he shoulder, and walked alongside her to the exit. Y/n split from him for a short second to return the apron, but then resumed her place next to him and they walked out together. She was hyper alert the entire way, taking notice of when their hands brushed, or when he pressed his bicep against hers. They walked a little stumbly, walking against each other almost. Had it been Lucy, she would’ve already yelled at y/n, and y/n would’ve walked near the sidewalk to avoid bumping into her again. But Harry?

Harry takes it like a champ. Giggling and pressing back against her, and he even placed her on the inside of the sidewalk when she walked to the side closest to the passing cars. 

    “So, tell me.” He starts, tossing his empty cup at a recycling bin as they waited for the light. “What kind of premeditated preparations should I take to be- as you said- extra specific?”

    Y/n still nurtures her cup in her hands, the coffee lid resting on her bottom lip. “Moodboards. Magazine scraps. Room inspiration on pinterest. Make a list of things you like. Anything really.  Anything that you like and would like to see in your apartment. Also, you need a budget.” 

    “Don’t worry ‘bout a budget. I’ll work on everything else. You want it done by a certain day?” He asked, gallantly placing a hand on the small of her back as they crossed the street.

    “Preferably within the next week or two. I’m pretty much done with Karime.” She straightens up when she feels Harry’s hand on her, a warm feeling spreading from where he pressed, unlike the nastiness Kim made her feel. 

    They’re three shops down when he said, “Gotta give me your number so I can send you everything then. You can keep me updated and I’ll keep you updated.” They pass by a tree whose branch is just low enough to graze Harry’s head, and it hooks onto the hood on his head, effectively pulling it back as he walks through. His hair looks incredibly soft. Wispy strands the color of the drink in her hands, billowing up and around his face, a ringlet falling in front of his right eye. 

    He licks his lips, using his fingers to push his hair back and raise the hoodie over his hair again. HE looks over at her as he does, waiting for her response. 

    “Oh, oh, yes. Sure thing. Got your phone on you?” Harry jams his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, the latest model, sleek and looking incredibly small in his hands. He placed it into her outstretched palm, unlocked but not on the contact app. Y/n has to swipe through shamefully, scared he’s gonna think that she’s snooping. She puts her number under ‘y/n :)’. 

    “Thanks, love.” He took the phone from her, his fingers sliding against the back of her hand. He hisses when he does so, saying, “Y/n your hands are so cold,” and then proceeds to take her hand and squeeze it between his own two. 

    She giggles sweetly, “Aye! Trynna hold my hand now?” she teased. 

    “No, trying to hold your hand would be this,” He grabs her hand with one, and lets it wall between them. They walk into AromaReads like that, with him holding her hand and the both of them laughing like they’d heard the funniest thing in the world. 

    Karime, standing at the counter and welcoming everyone as they come in, catches y/n’s eye and she smiles at herself knowingly. Y/n shakes her head while still laughing with Harry, and they both head to the back. Harry to get his stuff, and y/n to continue her job. Just when he’s walking between the isle and cabinets, his phone dings and he takes it out, his jaw dropping and palm slapping his forehead. 

    “SHIT! I completely forgot. I have a lunch meeting with my friend today. Fuck,” Y/n, this being the first time she hears swear words coming out of his mouth, rases her eybrow at him and chuckles. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to keep helping you, but-”

    She raises her hand, silencing him. “You do what you have to do. This is my job anyway. Just don’t forget to text me.” Basket handles fill her hands, wicker patterns pressing into her pals, and she tucks one of the last two frames under her hand too. 

    “I won’t. In fact, I’ll do that right now.” He types into the phone that’s still in his hand, and a few seconds later Y/n’s back pocket buzzes and chimes. She doesn’t pull it out to check. “Now you can text me if I forget.” He says finally, swinging his satchel over his shoulder.

“Bye, sweetheart!” He called out, turning back over to smile at her. Y/n’s  lips pulled up at the corners, gazing at him with a certain look in her eye as he walked out. 

    “Sweetheart, huh?” Karime stepped into her direct line of vision, snapping y/n out of the daydream in her head where she’s the housewife and Harry her husband leaving to work, calling out bye, sweetheart! as he walked out the door. 

    Karime’s looking at her with a smirk and a single pointy eyebrow raise. 

    God, what had she gotten herself into?

    .

    .

    Y/n had saved Harry under “H.”

   And received a text from him that same night.

    She’d been in her bathtub with cucumbers on her eyes when she heard her phone chime. Chin pointed upwards and wrists perched on the edges of her porcelain basin, she lay unbothered and unmotivated to even move. Arms aching and the soles of her feet tired from walking from place to place and lifting she did at Karime’s earlier that day. Tealight candles were the only source of light in the tiny bathroom, a soft yellow glow cascading on the skin of her neck.  The valley of her breast peaked out everytime she took a breath, her mind drifting off into thoughts of green eyes and warm hands, all she’d been able to think about that day.

    She planned on staying there 30 more minutes, but her phone dinged again. After she thought it was the two minute thing the phone does after receiving a message, but when it dinged again, she huffed from her nose and removed the soggy cucumber sliced off of her eyes. Should’ve turned off my phone, she thought to herself, grabbing the towel she left on the toilet seat across from the tub, and wrapping it around her torso. The phone screen a blaring white light in contrast to the dimness of the candles. 

    Y/n, eyes cloudy with sleep and limbs saggy with fatigue, is very much surprised to see that next to the app icon on the display screen, is ‘H.’ Hey eyes pop out of her head at the realization, and her heart shakes up the fatigue to beat up a storm for the boy she’d been thinking about all day since he’d left her. 

Standing in her bathroom, on bare tiles with water still dripping on her, it hit her full force. She liked Harry. Liked the way his cheek squished against his shoulder when he shrugged. They way he looked at her through his eyelashes, and they way he made sure that she was walking on the inside of the street. Liked how he smiled at her and said her name. She was obsessed with him. 

So i think i know what i wanna go for

Was thinking maybe italy in the 70’s 

What do you think :D ??

    And attached were varying pictures of vast rooms with big windows during golden hour and white flowy curtains with art pieces on the wall. It was minimal Even more minimal that what Karime asked for. This is what he wanted help with? Not to mention, the pictures he sent were of rooms far bigger than she’d ever seen for an LA apartment. Hell, those rooms might as well have been in Italy, one of the windows had a view of a pretty pink sunset and orange tree branches littering the way. 

    However, she couldn’t argue that they were very pretty rooms. Sweet and plain, easy for the eye to absorb and just the place you’d be able to melt on the floor with a book. 

    Or the kind in which you have slow, hazy afternoon sex, but who was she to say what harry would use his rooms for right?

    Disclaimer: if this is the look you’re going for

    Like

    This exact look? You’re gonna have 2 have a really big apartment   

        Not even a full minute goes by until the grey delivered letters turns into ‘Read at 10:15pm’ and the grey typing bubble appears at the bottom of her screen. Her palms begin to sweat and her breath hitches. She doesn’t realize she’s been holding in her breath until she releases it after his message comes through. 

        are you doing anything this weekend? 

        Y/n is confused, brows furrowed as she reads his message. Why does he want to know?

    No. why? she responded.

    so you can come and take measurements of my apartments. that way i know how to tweak what i want

  and I have a measuring tape don’t worry

Y/n rolled her eyes and giggled at her phone screen, turning and resting her bum on the edge of her sink. 

    Saturday? 

        Seconds later,

see you Saturday

sweet dreams. H.x

The idiot. Of course he’d sign off a text message. Scoffing, y/n let the towel drop to the floor, and reached into the tub to unclog the drain. As soon as she felt the pop of water flowing down the pipes, she took out her arm and walked out. 

.

.

On Wednesday, y/n laid in bed until 12. When she got up, it was only to brush her teeth, pee, and eat ramen with rice and egg like the asian lady in the liquor store had taught her to make. When she finished, she went back to bed. Maybe she masturbated to get herself to fall asleep again.

Maybe.

.

.

On Thursday, she went took Our Sign Of The Times and took it out to read in her car on signal hill. She finished it. 

She cried. 

When she went home, she started another one. Rogue Lover. This one with a really pretty purple flower on the front, and the first page when you open it is a raven haired man with shoulder length hair who’s propped up next to a busty redhead. Her nipple is in his mouth, and her head is thrown back in pleasure. Y/n fell a little more in love with 

Lemus Knox upon finding the dedication was a note rather than a name. 

It said:

Whoever reads this, I’ll be waiting for you where the stars and clouds meet. My heart is yours. Lemus.

.

.

Friday. 

She helped Lucy at Rockstar. A bald man with a blue beard came in asking for her. He has a boutique in Long Beach. Doesn’t want to come off overbearing. Will he help her? 

She said yes.They were set to meet next week. 

Also, Harry texted her asking if they were still on for tomorrow and come ready to eat because I made Italian food for a few friends I had over and there’s leftovers. 

.

.

Saturday. 

Y/n woke up with an appetite for Italian food. She didn’t have to be at Harry’s house until 12-ish. They hadn’t really clarified. And with it being 8 am and all that, y/n decided to take some time to shower and prep herself all nice and delicate. She spent 15 minutes lathering herself in her tub, letting her skin absorb berry scented bubbles that made her mouth water, and if she didn’t know any better she’d scoop up the bubbles and eat them.When her skin shriveled, she stood and drained the water, letting the stream from the overhead wash her off, and stepped out onto her heart shaped mat, the kind with little stubs that felt really nice against the bottom of her feet.

A little while back, she’d bought a lemon face scrub from a really expensive skincare place that had a sale, and meanwhile she put on her clothes, she put some on her cheekbones and forehead to sit for 15 minutes.  It required extra care when slipping her floral dress over her head. Once she managed to poke her head through, and the material rested all bunched up on her neck, the rest was a breeze. With a careful yank, the light material cascaded down her body, dropping just below her bum. Checking herself in her mirror, she smiled at the way she looked when she swayed her hips side to side. Cheeky flashes of her bum glint at her teasingly. Humming contently, she took off to wash off her face in the restroom. She was eager to find out how Harry liked the way she looked; her dress a low neckline, and she wasn’t wearing a bra because it was one of those dress in which the fabric bunched at the breasts to create a makeshift cup. The patter was a nice pink that looked nice against her skin, dainty little bows at the sleeves and in between her breasts accentuating her features.

Y/n opted for nothing other than a dark shade of lipstick, and let her hair flow down her back. As she was putting on her shoes, a pair of those recycled shoes that sent some of the proceeds to charity, she noticed that much of what she was doing felt like what she would have done if she were getting ready for a date. 

And… and Harry had food waiting for her at his place (apartment? Loft? She didn’t know specifically). Was this a date? She definitely wouldn't mind if it was.

She finished, and grabbed nothing other than her keys and shoulder bag, hesitating at her door whether she should grab the measuring tape, but deciding against it after remembering that Harry, quite teasingly, had said he had one at his house. 

In her car, she scrolled up her and Harry’s text to find the one which contained his address, tapped on it when she found it, and set in on the small mount on the headboard of her cart. Huffing, she set off to Harry’s house.

It didn’t take her long to get there, about ten minutes, and she parked in front of a much nicer version of her own apartment complex, but in Beverly hills.  A beige building that have the similar structure of a hotel, with turquoise patios and green roofing. Palm trees making a walkway to the entrance, which guarded by a security guard who asked who she was there to see.  

“I’m here to see Harry…” she falters, realizing she doesn’t know his name. 

The security, an old man with a limp and scrutinizing eyes, looked her up and down and said, “Ya one of dem girls das always botherin’ him ain’tcha? I suggest you turn back and go home. Mr. Styles won’t see you.” 

Y/n, with her jaw dropped, stood stunned in the middle of the pathway, not sure what to respond. Surely, he was confused. And whichever “girls that came around bothering Mr. Styles” she wasn’t one of them. 

“Go on and git,” he said, crossing his arms and standing possessively in front of a keypad. 

She hurried to reach into her bag for her phone, walking back to her car while she punched Harry’s “call” because she didn’t want to stand while an agitated security man watched her. 

He picks up the phone, and doesn’t even give her a chance to talk before he says, “is Felix giving you a hard time?” His voice gravelly and knowing. 

“The security guard? He said that you won’t see me.” She whines into the receiver. 

“Ah yes, the strict old man. Gimme a second.” He hangs up on her, leaving y/n clutching the strap of her bag so hard her knuckles turn white. 

“Ms. Y/n?!” Felix calls from behind her. She turns around, surprised to see that his face was completely transformed with a smile. His front tooth is gold and he’s missing a molar. “You can go on ahead, dolly. Mr. Styles just called and said you was a nice ‘un.”  He said, punching a thumb into the keypad behind him. “Sorry, bout that Miss. Enjoy the rest ‘ur dey!” He touches the tips of his fore and middle finger to his gleaming forehead and salutes her as she passes him, giggling and blushing. 

“Thank you, Felix. You too.” 

She walks through, and is greeted with a fine lobby. It really does look like a hotel lobby. Carpeted floors, a receptionist, and a door leading to a pool just outside the elevator. Before she can even wonder where to go, she hears her name being called by a familiar voice, 

“Y/n, over here!” Harry calls out, standing in front of open doors to the elevator to her right. He’s wearing a burgundy turtleneck and black slacks that are cuffed at the ankles. Yellow tortoise shell glasses and his hair is parted down the middle making him look like MiloThatch. A lavender towelette is in the grasp of his right hand, and he’s waving it at her like soldier girlfriends saying goodbye on the platforms. 

Stunned at his etherealness, y/n felt the roof of her mouth go dry. Staring at the way he filled out his clothing, she walked to him hypnotized, transfixed by his appearance. His chiseled features, boyish grin. She gravitated towards him. Enchanted.

“H-hi, Harry.” she said dreamily. Harry’s eyes raked her up and down when she came to a stop in front of him. 

“Why, hello. You look exceptionally lovely right now, darling.” He rasped, looking down at her sternly, all traces of a sweet smile gone and replaced by something a little more serious. A little more sinister.  His light green eyes turning a darker shade, y/n’s lips parting and knees weakening. 

She musters the words to say, “so do you,” and Harry’s lips turn up at the corners. 

“Shall we head up. Pasta and salad is waiting for you.” He turns away from her and presses the circular button that goes red when he pushes it. 

“How was-”

“So, you-” 

They both say at the same time, laughing and stopping to let the other speak and Harry says, “You go first.” 

“I see you’ve a few fans that bother you, and Mr. Felix has taken to guarding them off,” y/n commented. Her eyebrow quirked at him. 

Harry laughs, a single loud ha! “Felix just takes his job very seriously. That’s all.” 

“Doesn’t change the fact that you have women-” the elevator rings and the doors open, “lined up on your doorstep.” Harry steps in first, and uses his hand to stop the elevator doors from closing in on y/n. 

She steps through, and they both stand side by side in the metal encasing. Glancing up, she sees the ceiling is covered in mirror panels. 

“Well,” Harry shifts his body so his front is facing her, and takes a step, shoulders taking turns on tilting forward with every slow, torturous step he takes. “Does it,” Y/n takes a step back, breath hitching in her chest, “ bother,” her back collides with the cool wall, the floors on the meter above the doors keep going, 5, 6, “ you?” 

He’s a needle away from her nose, his mouth ghosting over her own and his chest rising up and down slowly while hers is an erratic mess. She’s breathing out of her mouth, her eyes shifting between his own two that are fixed and straight on hers. 7, 8,  Harry’s hand comes to rest on the right side of her face, caging her between the elevator wall and his bicep, his palm cupped her jaw and running a thumb tenderly over her cheekbone. 

“I-I,” she stutters. 

“Cat got your tongue, petal?” His breath smells like mint and coffee. The tips of the curls that hang in front of his eyes tickle y/n’s forehead and down the side of her temple and eventually her cheek when he leans in to put his lips at her ear. “Look so pretty right now, y'know?” HIs british drawl is heavy because his tone of voice is low. 

8, 9, “Harry,” she gasped, involuntarily tilting her head to the side when he noses at the back of her ear. “What are you doing?” 

The elevator comes to a stop at 10, and Harry retracts, leaving her a red, heated mess  and slightly panting. He takes the few steps to stand in front of the elevator doors, and clasps his hands behind his back. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiled at her sweetly, his demeanor innocent as if we weren't just going to ravish her in an elevator like Robet Patterson for that one Dior commercial.

The doors open to a long hallway that turns sharply at the end to the right, a door where it would’ve turned on the left side. The right wall is a window that looks out onto the middle of the building, where y/n could see the pool that had been behind door. The flooring is a green colored tile, the same as the roofing, and the walls are a flattering soft yellow bordering on white.

Harry’s shoes, expensive looking-black heeled boots that have a rainbow pattern on the, making clacking noises against the floor with every step he takes. Y/n can’t help but feel awkward while walking alongside him, but  Harry, humming along to the tune of Maneater, by Hall and Oates, doesn’t seem to share her opinions. At the end of the hall, he makes a sharp turn to left, and she bumps into him. Mumbling a sorry she steps back to allow him to open the door. 

It’s not locked, and with a quick turn of the brass knob, the door opens and the smell of tomato and basil hits them both in the face. 

Y/n’s stomach grumbles, and she places her hand over her bell and looks over at Harry with wide eyes, embarrassed. 

“I take it you’re hungry?” He steps through, holding the door open for her.

“...yes…” she mumbled, stepping through. 

“Just in time then because I…” Whatever Harry says is drowned out. Y/n is amazed. Harry doesn’t have an apartment. He has a goddamn penthouse suite. His living room wall is a window, his kitchen open and blending in with the rest of the space. There are no walls, just turns where the building walls connect. Tall and wide walls painted with angles of shadows and lights that stream in. No furniture other than a long, wooden dinner table and three white chairs, and his bed. A mattress and a white comforter messily strewn over pillows. Before the walls turn to the streetside view, Y/n catches glimpses of cedar wood bookshelves arranged in the middle of the room; just like in a library. 

“Y/n?”  Harry appears in her line of peripheral vision, a knowing look on his face.

“Sorry, sorry. What was it?” 

“Said, do you want spaghetti and meatballs or fettuccine?”

“Mmm,” She scrunches her face like she’s thinking real hard, “fettuccine.” Then she adds, “please.” 

“You got it.” He said, walking away while playing with the collar of his turtleneck. Y/n follows after him, to the kitchen isle and utilities placed in a little alcove underneath the stairs that lead upstairs. To what, y/n didn’t know. 

Then she sees the pots and pans that are still steaming, the cutting boards with chopped lettuce and other vegetables and realizes that-

“Hey! You said you had takeout,”

“I did.” He picks up the knife next to the tomato, and continues chopping the lettuce.  “But I left it out, and it went bad. I promised you Italian so I made it myself instead. Much better than Olive Garden, anyways.” He shrugs, looking up at her and pointing with the knife to a chair across from him. “Sit.”

“NO!” She said, exasperated. “Let me chop something, too.”

“Darling, this is finished. I’ve got it. Sit, the fettuccine is almost finished. Just,” he twists his neck to look behind him, at the clock above the stove, a cat with a swinging tail. “Five more minutes.” 

Y/n slides the bag she carried off her shoulder and hooks it in the back of the chair he had told her to sit on, which she still wasn’t.

“Harry, that’s not fair.” she stomped her foot, a flat slapping noise of her sole against his wooden floors.

“Oh sit, or I won’t give you any food.” He tuts his tongue at her, shaking his knife and turning to turn down one of the knobs on the stove.

Pouting like a child, y/n sits down with a plop and a screech of the chair sliding against the floor.

She sat and watched Harry as he took plates out of his cupboards and placed food on them. The only noises being the quiet bubbling of pasta sauce, the tapping of his heels, clinks of plates against each other, and y/n’s grumbling stomach. Her face was still puckered in a pout because Harry hadn’t let her help him, but it slowly eased off as she focused more and more on the way he looked in his fitting black pants. The way the fabric was tighter on his ass, how his thighs flexed with each stride. Suddenly, y/n got the urge to bite into them, and she felt herself blush at her own thoughts, especially when Harry turned to her with a sweet smile of his lips.

He placed a plate in front of her, complete with salad and garlic knots. 

“Would you like some wine? Got this really nice one the other day and I haven’t opened it yet. Figured since we’re having Italian, it fits.” Harry was holding a dark wine bottle in his hand, that he had just pulled out of his silver fridge. 

“Harry, I would love some, but-” Y/n tried to explain that she felt bad because she came here for take out and had cooked her a meal.

“NO buts. Have some.” And instantly, there was a cup of red wine next to her plate.

Even though he had a table for eating, he placed his own plate next to her, and sat down to eat. Y/n looked at him, deflated and with a pained look on her face, while he forked spaghetti into his mouth and raised his glass for a drink. 

He froze when he saw she was looking at him. Looking her up and down, he said, “Moppet, eat your food. We have work to do.” 

Y/n rubbed her palm down her face, her lips pulled down. With a groan, she picked up her fork, sulking, and twirled it in her pasta.

She didn’t know what she was expecting, but definitely not the mini piece of heaven that was in her mouth. Harry had managed to create the perfect blend of cheese and cream that glazed her tongue like silk. It was so good, she moaned, her fingers pressing against her mouth and head tilted back. 

“S’good,? Harry questioned, wiping his mouth with a napkin to hide his laugh.

“Very,” she said, shoving more of the pasta into her mouth.

“Good.”

They eat quietly, Harry snickering at her whenever inhumane noises of pleasure left her mouth.Y/n practically cleaned her plate with the garlic knots. She only remembered about the glass of wine when Harry set his down empty, lips stained, and eyes droopy if she looked at him hard enough. After she’d cleaned her plate, she reached for the thin stem of the g;ass and drank it like it was grape juice, only slightly wincing after it had gone down, the tart acidity washing down the sweeter tones of cream. 

“Slow down, Moppet. Don’t want you to get a tummy ache.” Harry said, patting her hand tenderly and pushing himself off the seat to place her plate in the sink. At this, y/n jumped from her chair and took the plates from Harry. 

“You cooked, not I wash the dishes.” She stuck her tongue out at him, the tip red from the wine.

“But-” Harry protested.

“No buts. Go,” she bumped her hip against his, and walked the last few steps to the sink, picking up the sponge and turning on the water. She washed the dishes, and like always, got the front of her dress wet, water splattering onto her chest. Sucking on her teeth, y/n used the towel hanging on the handle of the oven to pat off the water. Harry watched this from where he leaned against the isle across from the stove; a new glass of wine half empty.

Returning to the table, she grabbed her now full- no thanks to Harry- glass of wine and sipped from it. It settled nicely in her stomach, warming down the path it took to settle.

Clasping her hands, she said, “Okay, Harry. Let’s talk decor.”

Harry untucked his hand from underneath his armpit, and smacked his lips together, “Follow me.”

He started walking out to the living room area, and into the bookshelves y/n had seen. Up close, they were actually taller than her, just about Harry’s height. He walked past them, and stopped again at a corner where one building face meets the other. Here, he had pictures upon pictures laid out on the floor. He even had scraps of fabric.

Y/n stared, and nodded approvingly. “You did your research. Good job.” Looking closer, she saw what the images were. Albums (David Bowie, Stevie Nicks, Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles, The Beatles, Prince). Pop culture pieces (Andy Narwhal, Pulp Fiction, Sixteen Candles). Fabric patterns, colors, and a lot of velvet. About half of the pictures were shots of other room like the pictures he’d shown her. 

To her left, Harry tapped onto his phone, and seconds later, that song he’d been humming in the hallway, Maneater, played with clarity on speakers hidden from the eye. When he was satisfied with his queue choices, he knee and sat next to his big circle of inspiration, legs splayed out in front of him looking infinitely long.  Y/n noticed he had taken off his boots, and his feet, knobby and lanky, had toes painted blue and pink. He had black markings on his big toe, but she couldn’t see what it was.

“Look, sit sit, I was thinking…” Harry began, patting the area next to him and grabbing a few of the papers he had spewed on the floor. Y/n, inexplicably endeared, sat with her legs crossed to the side next to him, feeling her butt press onto the cold floor, and listened to him go on and on about his vision. 

Hours passed with them just talking about images, why Fleetwood Mac would go better than Prince (because Fleetwood Mac is more of an afternoon in the meadows, and Prince is a night going down the highway in Malibu) and fabric choices for the windows (i’m sorry Harry, y/n had argued, but unless you can find a near translucent velvet its not gonna work. If you want the summer in italy during the 70’s look, you need transparent curtains).

They sat long enough that the way the light filtered in at an angle according to the sun, changed completely (it was at a harsh slant with the morning light, now its at a soft bend with golden light). When the light made Harry’s face look a golden pink, he fell back onto the wooden floors with a groan and said,

“How do you do this, y/n?” He blew hair out of his lips to move the few strands that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“Dunno, its just second natur- heeyy,”

A midst the mess, she guesses they missed it. Underneath a picture of a fruit bowl and flowers, was a picture of a naked woman, with birds eye view from the bot of her head, so you could see the tips of her breasts with they way she arched her back, and the head of hair in between her thighs. Her mouth was open in a silent scream of pleasure, eyes closed and a hand fisting her own hair like she was doing to the man in between her thighs.

Her cheeks burn upon her discovery, and she feels a familiar buzz in the place where the woman in the picture had a tongue pressed against her. 

When he heard her little gasp, Harry shot straight up and when he saw the image in her hands he said, “Ah, I see you’ve finally found it. Was wonderin’ when it would come out.” Reaching across her, his chest smushed againt her shoulder, he plucks it from her hands and look at it, smirking.

“You didn’t tell me we’d be doing x-rated work.” 

She says it teasingly.

But maybe it was the way she was looking at him then. She couldn’t help it. The roots of his hair looked blonde in the light, and his eyes were clear, almost see through as light passed them. His lips looked particularly tasty, having been tinted red from the wine, glinting from his own spit, and swollen from how he’d plucked at them while he was thinking about her suggestions. The juncture of his throat was partly hidden, but she could still see every time he swallowed, hos his adam’s apple bobbed up and down. And… and it wasn’t her fault that black pants looked good on him either. The material stretching taught over his muscles, flexing with every, single movement he made, no matter how small.  

So, maybe she had been looking at his provocatively, and her comment had… fueled Harry. Tuned him in on what had been on her mind.

He lifts himself with one arm from his indian-style position on the floor, up to his knees, and crawls to her. Eyes looking with hers, y/n’s chest starts to heave, her breaths growing bated; shorter; faster. 

“Do you want to do x-rated work?” He said, his voice dangerously low. His rings clink against the wooden planks, and brush against her thighs when he comes close, hands bracketing her hips, his nose nudging hers.

She’s gupping, like a little guppy fish, her lips opening and close, but nothing comes out of them.

Harry’s nose moves to her cheek, pushing back her hair. “It’s okay, pet. I can ask you again. Do you want,” his lips are at her ear for the second time that day, except that she thinks maybe they’ll actually gets somewhere this time. All she has to do is say,

“Yes.” Her voice is small, an airy squeak when Harry presses a kiss to the back of her ear. Her hands, sitting dumbly on her lap, move tentatively to his chest, searching from something to hold onto. She clenches the soft fabric in her hands just as Harry starts to lean back, his palm falling into her naval, and pushing her back, back, back, until she has to stretch her legs out to lay comfortable on her back, staring up at him with bleary eyes, glossed over.

“Yes? Course you do, pet.” He moves his knees to straddle her hips, leaning down close so he’s almost talking into her mouth, and one of his hands smooths down the shape of her waist. Y/n feels herself grow wet when Harry dips his thumb into her belly button, and she’s whining because she hasn’t done anything with anybody in so long and she wants him to do something.

But, if he’s not gonna do anything, that she might as well. She stretched her neck the last of the way, flattening her lips against Harry’s. The relief is instant, she quells her desire of being closer to him, and Harry responds almost immediately, swiping his tongue on her bottom lip and licking into her when she lets him. Harry groans, because she still tastes like wine and a sweetness he can only credit to her. His kiss becomes urgent, smashing his against her soft, malleable mouth.

Y/n whimpers, hips jutting upwards when Harry takes her lower lip between his teeth, and bites down on it,hard enough to where the pain was pleasure. Although her mind is swimming, she knows that the bulge she feels through the flimsy cloth of her dress is Harry’s cock. Elated and driven mad by her need, she arches up into him, needing any friction she could.

Harry pulls away from her, their lips separating with a wet noise, and tuts his tongue at her. “Ah, ah, ah. You’re not getting my cock tonight, y/n. Not yet.”

She mewls, her eyebrows dipping and red, puffy lips pouting, “Harry, don’t be a tease. S’not fair.” She doesn’t care is she sounds pathetic, the space between her thighs aches, and she’d like him to very much sate it “Do something, please.”

He coos at her, pressing wet kisses along her neck, his hand sneaking past her waist, to the start of her dress, and slipping underneath it. “Whining like a little puppy, aren’t you?” His hand glides of her thigh, the shill of his rings sending a violent shiver up her spine. His nail scratches a path near the place where she’s most warm. Most needy, and she moans when he feels how close he is to touching her, the splotch on her panties expanding every time he spoke. “You’re alright puppy, I’ll take care of you.”

Y/n’s breath hitches when his finger hooks onto the strap of her underwear, snapping the material twice with a chuckle at the cries he elicited from her. 

“Harry, harry, harry,” she’s half mad with need, her eyes squeezed shut with anticipation, and when Harry sees the desperation in her slack mouth, his own features go soft, and he takes out his hand from underneath her dress to cup her cheek. 

“Puppy,” he said, and when she didn’t open her eyes, he said again, “Puppy, look at me.” his thumb rubs over her cheek, ignoring the imploring whines that leave her lips, and instead leaning down and kissing her to shut her up. “It’s okay, its okay. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes!” She shouted, eyes going wide, amazed that he’d even ask that. “Do something.” She ruts up again, the head of Harry’s cock nudging against her hood. Harry groans, noticing how fucking hard he is. He’s leaked through his pants, a darker splotch where his head it.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, more to himself than to her.

His hand makes the same trail it had before, flipping up her dress this time to see her clothed center. Her panties make him want to cum on the spot. Baby pink cotton with a bow on the center of the band. Biting his lip, he uses a knee to spread her thighs, and then he sees just how much she needs him. 

“Oh puppy. We’ve made a mess of your panties haven’t we?” He looks at her with amusement, “Guess they have to go, don’t they?” 

Y/n hums desperately, her hips writhing up to meet his fingers. Pressing a last kiss to her lips, Harry scoots back so his knees are by her feet, and he and slip off the material all the way off. Suddenly aware of how bare she is, he clasps her thighs sht, obscuring Harry’s view of her pussy. 

“C’mon now, honey. Don’t be shy,” with a strong hand, he pries her knees apart and lays himself down in front of her, his breath hot on her swollen clit. From that angle, he can see how much she glistens, and how her juices spill out of her every time she clenched her hole around nothing. “Look at you, just begging to be stuffed.”

With a single finger, he slides up and down her slit, collecting her wetness, and then slipping into her. 

Y/n bleats, his intrusion stirring her heat up more; she wanted more. Wanted to be filled than more with just his finger, but was scared to say. Instead she said, “another,”

Harry slid his middle finger inside her, scissoring his fingers and leaning down to lick a stripe on her clit. Y/n arched her back, and moaned loudly, her eyes squeezing shut and hands touching at the area around her, looking for something to hold on to and settling to clenching at her own dress.

He hears the sound of her hands colliding with the floor, and looks up to see her knuckles going white with hoe hands she was fondling her dress.

“Y’can pull my hair, puppy.” he said against her slit, the vibrations of his words sending prickled of pleasure to the building orgasm she feels in the pit of her stomach. The second her muddled brain comprehends what Harry said, her fingers jam themselves into her his hair, just as he suckles on her. Y/n’s eyes roll to the back of her head, and her gasps come out in staccatos.

Harry’s fingers are still pumping in an out of her, twisting every time he pushed them back into her. He’s looking for the spongy spot inside of her, when he hears her say something incoherently.

“What was that?” he asked her,his fingers stilling inside her.

“Said, what about you?”

Her voice is faint and weak, her voice and comment sending pin-pricks of satisfaction to his throbbing member. His heart clenches at her considerations, so touched by the fact that she’s so lost in her own heat but she’s still worried about him.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you. Y’gonna cum for me, puppy?” He feels the pad of his middle finger slide against something that has a different texture that the rest of her, and when her breathing hitches and she lets out a long moan, he knows hes found what he’s looking for. Y/n’s pussy clenches around, her fingers tighten in his hair, so hard it makes Harry yelp. “Clenching m’fingers, puppy, I know you’re there.” 

Y/n feels the familiar slow burn of her orgasm twisting in the pit of her stomach, her entire body hyper aware of Harry and what he was doing to her. How he pressed a hand on her navel to keep her from lifting her hips, the harsh sucking of her clit, and then finally the flick of his pointer finger curling inside her.  The build-up unravels, and her mouth opens up in a silent scream like the women in the picture, her body going taught, and then falling limp when the wave calms.

“That’s it, love. All better now isn’t it?” Harry slowly takes his fingers out of her, reveling in the way she’s still squeezing around him. She’s sensitive and jerking from her orgasm when He lick his fingers clean, kissing his path up her body. Her thighs, her exposed navel, her clothed valley of her breasts, her collarbones, and up her throat, behind her ear where he’s taken a liking to kissing.

“Jesus, Harry. Where’d you learn to talk like that?” She titters sleepily.

“S’my job, puppy.” He nibbles at her earlobe and down her jawline.

Alarmed, y/n’s eyes pop open, and she sits up, pushing Harry’s chest and holding him at arms length. “What do you mean, it’s your job?” She’s scared she’s just been used or something along those lines.

“I mean it’s my job. Learned a few skills from writing erotica, pet.” He responses calmly, diving back in to continue his assault on the skin of her jaw. His voice warped against her, he adds, “write under a pseudonym. Lemus Knox.” 

Lemus Knox. 

Harry was Lemus Knox. Harry was Lemus fucking Knox.

“You’re…” she’s still. Almost like that fight or flight instinct. 

Harry stills when he realizes she has. He knows, simply by the tone of her voice that she knows who he is. Who Lemus Knox is.He withdraws to look at her, grinning fro  ear to ear.

“You know who I am?” he said slowly.

“Harry, I’d even go as far as saying I’m in love with Lemus,” she blurts, reddening as soon as the words leave her mouth, but Harry just smiles fondly at her.

“That’s okay, puppy. Lemus and I aren’t the same person. You have a right to love him,” he nuzzles into her neck, kissing down her shoulder, “Just as long as you save some love for me.”

And lying there, completely stunned ant with Harry’s hard cock pressing into her hip, y/n bursts out laughing. She laughs because she’s happy. Because she likes Harry. Because she loves Lemus Knox.

She laughs because for the first time in a long time, someone is laughing along with her, kissing her, holding her.

She laughs because she can’t wait to see where Harry will lead her.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blog #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #one direction fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #hazza styles #hazza blurbs #daddy harry

[stylessupremacy]

Shopping Experiences With Boyfriend Harry

"I have to go to the restroom real quick," you say as you and Harry near the restrooms. You and Harry had been shopping at the local mall to get a few things you guys needed.

"Do you want me to hold your purse or anything?" Harry asked as you and him came to a stop outside the bathrooms.

"Yes please, thank you," you say as you gently usher your purse and bags into Harry's hands.

Once Harry has all the bags, you quickly head to the restroom. You quickly did your business and wash your hands. Once you were done you quickly walked out and found Harry.

You walked up to him and started to take your purse and bags out of hands. "Thank you for holding my things for me," you said as you took Harry’s hand back in yours to continue walking throughout the mall.

“Of course, anything for you.” He said as he pecked your cheek.

“Love you,” you said as you rubbed your thumb over his hand that you were holding.

“Love you too,” he said and gave your hand a squeeze.

And that’s how the rest of the shopping trip went. You and Harry talking about your work weeks while shopping. Quality times like these were your favorite to spend with the love of your life, Harry. And he thought the same thing.

#harry styles #harrystyles #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry imagine #harry edward styles #fine line #harries #hazza #boyfriend!harry blurb #boyfriend harry imagine #boyfriend!harry drabble #boyfriend!harry #boyfriend harry #harry styles fic rec #harry styles masterlist #harry styles x influencer y/n blurb #harry styles fic #one direction #harry 1d #harry styles x y/n #harry styles layouts #harry styles headers #love on tour #dad!harry #stylesupremecy writing #husbandrry

[iwannakissyoubuticant]

homeland

"This is not working anymore" you said looking away from Harry.

"Uh huh, it isn't." he replied quiet bluntly.

"So?" you both retorted at the the same time.

"Look it's only normal that we..." for some reason you couldn't quite finish the sentence even though you know it's best for the both of you.

"..Break up?" he completed the sentence for you. It made you tear up a little. Not because he seemed sure about it but because of the fact that he gets you. Like he always has been. He seemed to noticed the sudden change in your expression and asked you "hey you okay?"

"Yeah yeah totally" you said smiling a bit "It's just, it made me realise how you always complete me and not just by saying the things I can't say or things I won't do even if it's all i want to do but like mentally and emotionally, you've always been that person for me, so in that sense you complete me" you said it all in one go and it was in fact true. No matter how bad things are right now between you and Harry even in this painful and confusing moment he still is the same person that he has been for you.

"And you..." you were lost in your thoughts remembering all the times; when he spoke "You complete me. Not by doing or saying anything but just being that piece of missing jigsaw. His voice calmer than before.

"It's such a shame you don't want that anymore." You didn't mean to sound as bitter as you did.

"You know that I do. I still want you..."

"Not more than the PR stunt of yours." You cut him off before he could say something that'd force you to change your mind.

"Jesus y/n! How many times do I have to explain myself to you? I'm so sick of it." his voice was getting louder.

"And I'm sick of listening to you saying that it doesn't mean anything so I shouldn't let it affect me! I know that!" you said in the same tone as his.

"So what's the problem here? Is it hard for you to grasp the severity of the situation? I do not wish to be with her! You know I gotta do it for the film! Why won't you understand?" Harry was infuriated.

"I do not have any problem with you being part of whatever nonsense that is, all I want is, to be left out of it. I do not wish to be a part of something that's gonna affect me mentally or emotionally so even though I love you with every being of my body, I won't be a witness to you kissing some other woman on street, walking with her hands in yours instead of mine!" I just CAN'T" you were screaming at the top of your lungs.

"WHY? You know it doesn't mean ANYTHING!"

"BECAUSE IT BREKAS MY FUCKING HEART HARRY" you were still screaming but there was a crack in your voice and you could feel your throat filling up.

"I.." he seemed to be at loss of words.

You pushed him away. Hard. Because the mere thought of someone else claiming him was making you angry to the point where you couldn't stand it anymore.

"Y/n what are you-" he blurted slightly startled but before he could say it you stepped forward and pushed him again.

"Hey-" again.

"Y/n!-" again.

Everytime he'd start to say say something you pushed him because you didn't wanted to hear any of it.

"Listen to m-" You were about to push him again but this time he grabbed you by both of your wrists. You tried freeing yourself but his grip was tight. You dead looked in his eyes.

"Now listen to me...Why would you do that?" he asked keeping his calm even though you could tell he was mad. You dropped your gaze and then lowered your head, hair falling on both sides of yours, covering your face from the sides.

"Look up!" he said in the same tone as before. You lowered your head further more.

"I said. Look. Up." There was an impatient dominance in his voice. But you didn't look up. So he lowered his head a bit so as to read your expression and the moment he did, you pulled his hair with your hands still in his grip it made the grip lose and you started to run away but not long before he grabbed you and pushed you to the wall behind you. Your back as well as both of your wrists pinned to the wall. Harry was grabbing them and unlike last time it was hurtful. He was enraged like never before. Maybe you've pushed things way too far. You were starting to regret it. But you didn't let it show.

"Let me go." You commanded.

"Why? Have your voilent instincts calmed down? Don't you wanna push me anymore?" he seemed hurt and angry. Not a good combo.

"I did not mean to-"

"You didn't mean to what?" he shouted at you. It made your eyes flinch.

"I was just..."

"Yeah?"

"I feel betrayed!"

"Why?"

"Why! Well how would you feel if you see me on internet making out with someone on the streets? fuck the media! How would you feel if I go out with a guy, kiss him, spend time with him, the time that should've been yours and come back and tell you it meant nothing to me so you need not worry."

"Nobody takes what's mine." He spoke as he was simply stating facts.

"No? But it doesn't mean anything. I'll kiss him because I have to, bear it, babe." You said with sarcasm in your voice.

"Stop it!" There was a sense of urgency, he was getting more angry.

"Why? I do love you but he-" Before you could finish the sentence he tilted his neck and shut you up with a kiss. His lips didn't move, at first, just stayed there, like landing on a foreign place. But slowly recognising the warmth it started to open up and out of its own accord you let him in, sucking deeply on your tongue. It's been a while since you and Harry has been intimate. You could feel the hunger in you and it only reciprocated in Harry. You wanted to touch him but your hands were pinned to the wall under his, you tried freeing them and Harry noticing that let them go but not so you could hold him instead he pinned both your hands above your head and he held them with his one hand. With his other hand he grabbed you by the neck caressing your cheeks with his thumb circling slowly then he ever so lightly trailed it down to your chest and over your left breast and down to your navel and started circling there. His gentle touch was starting to drive you crazy. You looked pleadingly in his eyes. He closed the little gap between you two and you thought he was gonna kiss you again but he just rested his chin on your shoulder. His every breath was falling on your temple. Then he tilted a bit and placed a wet kiss on your neck and then blew over, you could swear that your heart stopped in that moment.

"Oh Harr-" you let out a gasp.

"Shhhh" he moved his hand from your breast to place it on your mouth. He then let go of your hands and grabbed you by the waist pulling you up. You immediately wrapped both of your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He pulled you even closer if that was even possible. He licked his lips a little and there was a devilish grin on his face. Before you could do anything he opened his mouth and bit your lower lips pulling them towards himself, still smiling he said:

"I'm gonna tell you how much I want you, and only you, baby."

a/n : thankyou so much besties for making it to the end it means a lot to me that you chose to dedicate a bit of your time in reading my work. I hope you liked it. thankyou for the support, truly. feedbacks and rbs are appreciated:)

#harry styles #harrystyles #hazza #harold #harry styles imagine #harry imagine #harrie #one direction #1d #love on tour #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles enemies to lovers #harry imagines #harry blurb #hs3 #harry's home

[harrystylesslutt]

Pegging lhh

warnings: smut, pegging, sub harry, dom reader, spanking, throat fucking, mommy kink, hair pulling, degrading kink, slapping, kind of pain kink. (sry for any typos)

Requested.

Harry had been really needy tonight. Both of you were hanging out with friends, having fun, until harry started whining. You ignored him at first but then when you decided to go dance with your friends he wouldn't let you go.

Your POV:

"Mommy please, can we go home? Want you to fill me up" He kept repeating the same words, until I gave in.

Once we got home he pushed me against the wall and started kissing me fevershly while grinding his hips with mine, not letting me breathe. I pulled away only for him to start sucking a mark on my neck "fuck, look at you, so needy, ruined mommy's night" I said breathlessly.

After licking up the mark he left he looked at me in the eyes and pouted " 'M sorry, just wanted your attention, you were talking with your friends all night, barely looked at me"

I smirked and grabbed his hand leading him to the bedroom. "Be a good boy and wait for me naked on the bed yeah?" Harry nodded and quickly started undress himself as I walked out of the room.

I removed my dress and changed into one of harry's favorite lingerie set. After grabbing the box, I returned to our room, only to see harry already touching himself, not noticing my presence.

"I wanted to be nice, even wore your favorite set, but look at you, couldn't even wait for me" I shook my head and placed the box on the nightstand. " 'M sorry mommy, it hurts, please"

I rested my hand on his chin, bringing him closer to me. He closed his eyes as I brushed my lips against his, thinking I was going to kiss him, but instead I muttered a low "so naughty" and pulled away.

I leaned over to the nightstand and took the strap on out. "Was gonna be gentle you know? nice and slow for you, but now I've changed my mind" I said while putting the strap on around my hips.

"Sit up" I ordered, watching him do as I say, clearly excited for what's coming. "Gonna fuck your throat for ruining my night, want that?"

He nodded quickly, opening his mouth, ready for me. "You're such a pathetic cock slut aren't you?" "Yes mommy, 'm your cock slut, please fill me up" I grabbed my hair tie from my wrist and pulled his hair into a pony tail tying it.

I muttered a low "So pretty" while his tongue darted out to lick a stripe up the fake cock, before sucking the tip slowly. I slapped his cheek which made him whimper in response "Enough of that, open up that greedy mouth of yours"

I start gently rocking my hips, letting him get used to it, before going all the way so the tip is at the back of his throat. He squeezes my ass trying to get me to go deeper so I increase my speed, thrusting in and out his mouth making him gag but it's nothing he can't take.

I snap my hips harder making his eyes water, feeling his nails digging in my ass, "fuck, look at you, taking my cock so well" He brings his hand down to his own cock, trying to relieve himself.

Once I notice what he's doing I quickly pull out which makes him whimper. "Did I say you could touch yourself?" "N-no but-" "That much of a whore aren't you, get on your hands and knees" He quickly nods and does as I say.

I reach out to the box again, grabbing a rope, putting his hands together, before tying them up. "You were so naughty tonight, not letting me have fun, being an attention whore, touching yourself without permission, I think you deserve a punishment."

"Gonna be a good boy for me?" "yes mommy! wanna be your good boy again, please" I smirk and bring my hand down to his ass harshly, making him moan, I do it again hearing him mutter "fuck".

"You like it when I spank you yeah?" "Mhm! harder please" I bring my hand down spanking him harder watching the skin redden.

I lower my mouth down to his hole spitting on it. He jerks at the sudden contact. I start licking his hole wanting to lube him up, making him a whimpering mess.

I pull back and tease his hole with my finger "Y/N please..." he begs, earning him a harsh slap on the still red mark my hand left. "That's not my name" " 'M sorry mommy please just-" He's cut off with me finally pushing a finger in. Feeling him stretch a bit, I add another one. I start thrusting them in and out of his hole, making him moan and groan loudly.

When I feel like he's ready for me, I pull my fingers out. He whimpers at the loss of contact but quickly stops when he feels the tip of the toy slowly pushing in. "You look so pretty like that, practically begging to be fucked" I say while pushing it all in, waiting for him to get used to the size.

"Mommy move please." I pull back and ease back into him. I hear him groan so I start thrusting in and out of him, slowly increasing my speed. "Fuck, you take my cock so well, you're my fucktoy yeah?"

When I don't hear an answer I stop my movements and pull him back to me by his hair. I whisper against his ear thru gritted teeth "when I ask you something, I expect an answer, unless you want me to remind you how to use that mouth of yours mhm?"

"I'm your fucktoy, I'm yours to use and to fuck whenever you want, please move" he says while pushing his ass back, trying to get me to move again.

"Good boy" I throw him back on the bed, and start pounding into him relentlessly, snapping my hips fast and hard making him cry out. I suddenly get and idea and move my hands to untie his, not stopping the movement of my hips.

"Want you to ride me pretty boy. Can you do that?"

"Yes fuck yes, anything for you mommy"

I pull out of him and lay down on the bed, he quickly moves to straddle me, reverse cowgirl. He grabs the tip of the toy and guides it to his hole, slowly sinking down on my cock.

He starts grinding his hips forward and back, whimpering at the feeling, before starting to bounce up and down, finding his own rhythm.

"Come on baby fuck your fist while you ride me" His hands leave my knees, using one of them to pump his overly sensitive cock, the other fondling with his balls.

I start thrusting up, feeling him lose the rhythm, his movements becoming sloppy, overwhelmed by the pleasure. "Fuck yes! gonna cum! fuck mommy!" and just like that he finally comes undone. His cum all over the sheets. But who cares.

Harry takes a moment to recollect himself before moving off me, hissing at the slight pain. I get rid of the strap o, carelessly throwing it on the floor.

"I'm sleepy mommy, I ruined the sheets" he pouts leaning in to finally kiss me, wanting to feel comfort. "It's okay baby, we'll go sleep in the guest room and clean up tomorrow yeah?"

He gives me a weak sleepy smile with a nod, before getting up and making his way to the guest room.

Once I'm out of the lingerie and wear one of harry's shirts, I join him. We finally get comfortable, with harry's head laying on my chest and his arms wrapped around me while I play with his curls "you didn't cum" he pouts and looks at me.

I give him a reassuring smile "It's fine baby go to sleep, you'll make it up to me" He kisses my chest thru my shirt "I definitely will, I promise" And just like that we both drifted off to dream land.

A/N: I hope you liked this :) request for more!

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles imagines #harry styles is beautiful #long hair harry #hs1 #hs2 #hs3 #one direction preferences #prince harry #fine line #harold styles #hazza styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you

[harrysddtittys]

Could you maybe write something where Harry is a single father to maybe a girl. And just write how he’d deal with her terrible twos. Like from morning to night or something like that? 🥺

wow i finally got a requestttt!!! here you go! I know nothing about young children, so i don’t even know if this is an accurate description of a 2 y/o lol. but i hope you like it <33

Warnings: fluffff, dadrry, most likely some typos :)

Masterlist ❣︎ Requests

Piece of work

“Oh my God, Lani.” Harry groaned, groggily, as he was pulled out of his sleep by his daughter sitting on his back and yelling “Daddy, wake up!” in an playful voice. As much as he tries to pretend to not to like being woken up so obnoxiously every morning, they both know he loves for the first thing he hears every day to be his little girl yelling in his ear.

He lays there for a couple more minutes, wanting to sleep for a little bit longer, but gives up when he realizes she’s not going to be quiet until he gets up. “Okay, okay. I’m awake. Calm down.”

When he says that, she immediately gets off his back so that he can sit up, sitting next to him. He looks over at her. She’s wearing a random shirt of her’s that she doesn’t really wear other than to sleep, and her pull-up that she wears to prevent wetting the bed at night, and she has a head full of curly, unruly hair. He just smiles, so in awe of the fact he helped create something so beautiful.

Fatherhood was by far the best thing that ever happened to Harry. The second he looked his little girl, Alani in the eyes, he instantly felt the connection. He loves her with his entire being. But she can definitely be a lot to handle

She turned two not even three months ago. Harry Honestly thought the “terrible two’s” stage was a myth. Boy, was he wrong. The tantrums hit like lightning. Not only is she in her terrible two’s, but she’s naturally very stubborn, and sassy. She definitely got that from him. He swears she’s a 13 year old in a 2 year olds body.

“G’morning, bug.” He says, sitting up slowly because of the stiff joints from not moving much all night. “Good morning, daddy!” She squeals excitedly. Once he’s fully sat up, Alani jumps on him, throwing her tiny arms around him, causing Harry to chuckle. She gets so excited when he wakes up for the day.

He wraps his arms around her and squeeze her lightly, but grunting as if he’s squeezing her as tight as he can, making her giggle. “Did you sleep good?” He questions, quietly. “Yeah.” She mumbles, feeling so content where she is, like in her dad’s arms is the best place in the world. “V’got some things to do today. Y’wanna go run some errands with daddy?” This causes her to pull away from him with with wide eyes, nodding eagerly. The biggest smile spreads across Harry’s features. “Yeah?” Which she responds to by nodding again.

“Then we gotta get ready, bub. Y’hungry?” He asks to which she responds with a simple “Yes.” “Alright let’s go eat.” When he says that, Alani gets down off the bed, before sprinting out of his room, and toward the kitchen full speed. “Stop running!” He slightly scolds, hearing her tiny feet padding down the hallway at a much slower speed than before.

He always gets so nervous when she’s running around, but especially when she’s running in the house. She’s so wild and crazy, yet so clumsy. Constantly falling, and running into things. She rarely actually gets hurt. Most of the time she moves on from it like nothing happened. But it scares the absolute shit out of Harry every time.

When he enters the kitchen, he sees Alani standing next to the counter. As soon as he’s in her line of vision she starts pointing to the box of cinnamon toast crunch. “Daddy, this?” with pleading eyes. Harry just laughs. He doesn’t let her eat those than often for breakfast, because of how sweet they are, choosing to fix something on the healthier side for them to eat instead. But today he figured it wouldn’t hurt to let her have a little bowl of it before the day starts.

He goes over to the little girl who is still aggressively pointing at the box of cereal, ending down to pick her up. “Alright, alright. Hold you’re horses, will you?” He coos softly. He gently sits her down on at the kitchen table before returning back over to the counter. He opens the cabinet, pulling out a small bowl. When he’s finished making her cereal, he grabs her one of her baby spoons before serving it to her. “Thank you!” she says loudly. “You’re welcome, princess.” he chuckles.

Harry doesn’t like cinnamon toast crunch, it’s way to sweet for him. He decides he’ll just pop a bagel in the toaster and call it a day.

* * *

Once they’ve finished breakfast, they got completely ready for the day, and we’re soon ready to head out. Harry turns around to look at his daughter. She’s dressed in a denim dress, with a white t-shirt underneath, and white tennis shoes. Her hair’s brushed up into two sleek pigtails, which he’d become a pro at over the past couple years. Harry decided on a white t-shirt with a gray pair of pants. “Y’ready t’go, love?” he asked, feeling around his pockets to make sure he had everything. “Mhm!”

once they’re out to the car, Harry straps Alani into her car seat in the back, peppering kisses all over her tiny face once she’s all buckled in. “Daddy!” She squeals. Giggling, he closes the door, and goes around to the drivers side, getting in and powering the car on. “Alright, let’s roll.” he sighs, turning around to back out of the driveway.

They needed to stop at the grocery store, just to stock up on some things they needed around the house. So that’s where they were headed to now.

“Daddy, look! Red!” Alani exclaimed, pointing at the red car that was next to them. “Yes, that is red, baby, good job!” Harry beams. “Y’so smart.”

They continue driving toward their local grocery. Harry looks into his rear view mirror to check in Alani, and catches her staring at him. She’s always staring at him. It seems to be her favorite thing to do. He pulls the silliest face he could think of, causing her to burst into laughter. Harry laughs right along with her. Her laugh is so contagious. “Do it again!” She giggles. Harry happily obliges, pulling the goofy face once more, causing her angelic little laugh to engulf his ears.

After a little while of driving, they finally reached their destination, pulling into the grocery store parking lot. Alani watches her dad get out of the car, patiently waiting for him to make his way around to her side to get her out of the car. Soon enough, he does, taking her out of her cars seat and carrying her on his hip as the go into the store.

* * *

“Daddy, Daddy! Can I have that?” Alani asks loudly, pointing to something. “Shhh, you have to use your inside voice, darling.” Harry reminds her gently. He looks over to where she was pointing and not to his surprise, he sees a doll on the shelf. He’s grown to hate telling her no, but they didn’t come for toys, and she has more than enough at home already. “No, my love. Not today.” Her face immediately dropped. “But… but please?” She whines, her lip quivering. Harry hates that she’s disappointed but he knows he can’t give in. “No, baby. You don’t have to cry. Just not today, okay?” he says gently.

That doesn’t help, considering her whimpers are quickly turning into loud wails, and he knows the meltdown is coming. “Lani, it’s okay. You have plenty of toys at home to play with.” he try’s to reason but it doesn’t stop the tears that are slowly rolling down her face, and the loud, attention drawing cries. People were starting to look, and Harry was starting to get frustrated, but she was only 2. He knew she was still learning how to deal with her emotions. But when your kid is having a complete meltdown, and screaming in the middle of a store over a doll, that’s definitely a bit annoying.

Harry leans down to be face to face with her in her, who’s seated in the cart. “Alani, I know you’re upset, but you’re not going to scream.” He says softly, but slightly sternly. She looks at her dad, still crying but visibly calming down. Harry waits for her whines to die down completely before asking her “Are we okay now? Can we keep shopping?” to which she responds to with a nod.

After picking up just a few more essentials, they’re in line, waiting to check out. Harry looks down at Alani, realizing she’s been pretty silent ever since she stopped crying. He sees her with the all too familiar scowl on her face, with a pout of her lips. “Why are you looking so evil, bub?” Harry asked, with a gentle shake of his head. She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t need to because he already knows she’s mad at him for refusing to buy her a doll.

He just rolls his eyes and try’s not to laugh. She really is something else. But he knows that she’s genuinely mad at him and him not taking her seriously will set her off again.

Eventually, they make their way up to the front of the line to check out, and soon enough their heading back out to the car. Harry looks at her, as he’s loading all the groceries into the trunk of his car to see that she still has the same mean look on her face. “Y’gonna stay mad at daddy all day, huh?” He teases her solely for his own enjoyment, knowing she’s much to busy trying to have an attitude to laugh at anything he says. She nods silently, still refusing to speak to him. Harry can’t help but laugh at that, knowing that wasn’t true in the slightest. “Y’have to learn t’take ‘no’ for an answer, baby love.” He sighs.

When they’re in the car in the way home, Harry looks at her in the mirror, pulling some silly faces like he was doing earlier. She sees him, and while she was still trying to hold her angry face, he can see the smile tugging at her lips. He doesn’t stop until her scowl is completely replaced by a smile, her beautiful laugh ringing through his ears, making his heart flutter with joy.

“Ahhh, I thought you were mad!” Harry laughs, causing her to laugh along with him, knowing she failed her attempt at holding a grudge on him. “Are we gonna be friends again?” Harry asks jokingly. “Yeah, we’re friends again!” Alani states matter of factly, causing Harry to chuckle.

This child really was a little piece of work, but he loves her nonetheless.

“Good.”

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry fanfiction #fanfics #dad!harry #request #harry edward styles #hazza styles #harry styles fluff #anon #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #writing #writers block #harry styles masterlist #masterlist #hazzah #harrysddtittys #harry imagine #imagines #reblog the shit out of this #one direction imagines #solo harry #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfiction #fanficton #fandoms #harries #directioners

[shruti-singhs-blog]

HARRY STYLES IMAGINE: he wants to cuddle

You were busy due to your upcoming exams and assignments that you needed to submit were pending too. Due to this, you couldn't spend time with Harry and it was driving him crazy because he had been in a very clingy mood today, and he wanted to cuddle with you. (Y/N)? Love? Kitten? Sweeeeetheeaaarrrt? He said again and again poking your cheeks. "Harry I can't lay with you right now, I have so much to do." You say a bit annoyed. "But baby I need" "Harry I said I can't, baby please just go and cuddle with some pillow or something," You say removing his hand from your cheeks and turning around to face Harry whose pretending to cry like a baby. "No, I can't. I want to cuddle with my girl but my girl doesn't want to cuddle with me. She is always busy for her boyfriend" He says pouting and making puppy dog eyes. "Harry I said no and I can't just go already do something else. These eyes will not work this time." You say now a bit annoyed by Harry's constant request and the pile of work you need to complete before the due date. Then he just leaves without saying any other word. After an hour, Harry didn't say anything. So, you just decided to stand up to take a small break and look for your boyfriend. You opened your bedroom door and found him cuddling on a stool with a teddy bear. "Why are you hugging a teddy?" You asked. " Because unlike someone else Mr. fluffy likes to cuddle just differently." He said being all cute and adorable. "oh Hazza bear you know I had work, I too wanted to cuddle with you. You know I was just busy. I am sorry. Please forgive me." You said making a pout and puppy dog eyes. You opened your arms and approached him "Please Cuddle with meeeeee." He then dropped the teddy and surrounded his hands around your waist bringing you closer to him and nuzzling his head in your neck. "I know you were busy, I just wanted to cuddle with you and sorry for annoying you." He said "Hey! you could never annoy me. I love you." You said placing a kiss on his forehead. "I love you too." Hope you liked this one and If you want a personalized imagine comment I will try to do it. Bye, hope you have a good day.

#Harrystyels #Harry #Styles #Hazza #harry edward styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles #harry blurb #hazza #harry styles concept #one direction #1D #harry 1d #1d fandom #1d imagines #1d era

[violetsandfluff]

You watched Harry carefully, watched him run out of breath way too soon, watched him take puffs from his inhaler. He was sick and it was causing his asthma to act up.

He kept looking offstage to find you and it was all you could do not to run out and carry him home.

The boys were doing a good job checking up on him and getting him cough drops when he needed them.

At one point, Harry’s chest tightened painfully and he winced, rubbing his chest. Liam walked subtly over to him and instructed him to take a break backstage with you.

He obliged, still rubbing his chest and walked to where you were.

You immediately wrapped your arms around his shivering body, surprised at the heat radiating from it. You helped him to sink down into the floor and use his inhaler one more time. He began to breathe more easily, but he didn’t want to go back onstage. He felt like he had failed all of the Directioners that had come to see him.

You held him as silent tears fell down his cheeks as he settled into your chest, holding you like it was the last time.

You took care brushing sweaty curls off of his forehead and getting him his water bottle when he requested it.

By the time the show was over, he was asleep with his head in your lap, rolling restlessly over every few minutes.

The boys crowded around you to watch their baby sleep.

“You think he’s okay?” Liam asked in concern.

“ ‘E’ll be alright,” Louis reassured him.

Zayn reached a hand out to ruffle Harry’s hair and Niall just stayed quiet.

Harry woke up and walked out of the venue with the rest of the five and fell asleep on the ride home.

You, Niall, and Zayn were in the back seat together and he fell asleep, head in your lap, middle on Zayn’s, and feel on Niall’s.

Exchanging tired glances that told everything, the three of Harry’s temporary caretakers were tired and ready for sleep.

#fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #fanfixtion #blurb #sickfic #fluff #harry styles #one direction sickfic #1d sick #Harry Louis Niall Liam Zayn and you #Harry styles x you #Harry styles fanfic #Harry styles fanfiction #Harry styles sickfic #Harry styles imagine #Harry styles fluff #Harry styles blurb #hazza styles #sickfic x you #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #sick!harry #yellow 💛 heart #flutterfly alley #one direction #1d #fanfic x reader

[niallsteenagekitty]

hiiii, can you do something wedding related with harry & reader? It can be planning, vows, invitations, whater you want!

I am so excited!! this is my first request so thank you so much @spencharry. keep them coming and I hope you like it:)

WARNINGS: none

WORDS: 1029

The day has finally come. You were here just ready to walk through the aisle with your father. After months of preparation you were finally here. You’ve dreamed of this since you were a child. Seeing the Disney princess movie you thought if you would ever find your prince charming at a point you thought you would not but then you met this man. The one waiting for you standing wearing a black tux. You loved him and you knew he loved you more.

You guys have been together for three year. Four months ago Harry proposed in the most romantic way and ever since you’ve been planning for the big occasion. This is the biggest day of your life. You feel excited, nervous, happy, and emotional at the same time as the door opens and you start walking towards the love of your life. The band starts playing and all the eyes are on you. You blush a little because of the attention.

The decoration was perfect. All of your family members and friends were smiling at you. Emily, your best friend, is shooting all this and is signalling you to wave a hello to the camera you smiled looking at her do the action. Finally when your eyes met Harry's everything kinda disappeared. It was only you and him at that moment. His eyes were sparkling. They were filled with nothing else but love for you just like his heart. You were thinking how did you get so lucky.

Harry reached out to hold your hands to help you climb the small step. “You’re looking beautiful” he whispered with the biggest smile. You smiled too, your cheeks turned a light shade of scarlett again. Now that you were standing right in front of him, you saw him properly. He couldn’t stop smiling and he was looking perfect. His light brown curls were always silky and shining and his eyes were showing you how happy he was.

Your heart was racing. It all felt like a dream. But it was real.

Happening.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was feeling really happy and nervous standing there waiting for her. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of spending the rest of his life with you. He knew it would be fun without any doubt, To have kids with you and to grow old with you. The music started to play and I looked in her direction. He couldn't help but a few tears blurred my vision. He had always pictured this in my dreams. Imagined her in a veil but now that it was happening in real life.

He rubbed his eyes so that you couldn’t see his watery eyes. He thought that you were looking like an angel. His angle. He loved it when you called yourself his, he was proud to call you his. “Back off mate already mine.” he would say. With every second passing his heart beat was increasing.

He felt something in his stomach just like the day he first saw you. You were wearing a beautiful white dress just like any Disney princess. You were perfect from head to toe. He found his princess and watching her make her way to him was overwhelming for him.

It felt like a dream to him.

But it was happening in real life.

And it was better than what he had imagined.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was time for you guys to say your vows. Harry went first. He took a paper out of his pocket then looked at you and gave you that fond smile you were in love with. He kept the paper back in his pocket and looked straight in your eyes.

“Woah it’s happening baby” he whispered, smiling at his bride. “When I was a kid, I used to wonder if I’ll ever find my princess, my love, my solemate? If I could ever love someone this much? and right now standing here in front of you I got my answers. ‘You’ are the answers to all these questions. You’re my princess, my love, my solemate, my everything, my entire world. I can’t imagine a day without you in my life now Y/N.” he continued “I can’t explain how happy I am right now. Today is perfect and you are perfect. I can’t wait to spend all my summer evenings in a house outside the city with picket fences with you, have kids and grow old with you” he had a few tears in his eyes “I fall for you everyday Y/N. I love you more than anything and I want nothing to change. You’re the most kind, generous, and loving person I’ve ever met. You have the sweetest smile and the most beautiful eyes. I promise to love and support you in sickness and in health and be by your side” he paused for a second “I promise to protect you. I want all of you and all your little things. Because all those little things make you, you. And I love you for you.” he finishes and you were full on crying happy tears along with your mother and sisters. You looked around to see everyone having tears in their eyes. Even Emily! You smiled looking at the man you gave your heart to “don’t cry '' he said while rubbing his thumb on the back of my hands in order to soothe you. The moment you looked in his eyes you knew that you had made the correct decision and that you were soulmates. You exchanged your rings and he couldn’t wait anymore and kissed before the priest could even say “you may kiss the bride” which made everyone laugh including you. He wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him and as he deepened the kiss you bent a little backward. Making it the most memorable kiss.

The rest of the function went really well. You danced and Emily got it all recorded. You were on cloud nine. Seeing you happy made Harry happy too. “Can’t wait to spend the night with my wife. I’ve got a couple of ideas” he whispered, kissing your ear and making you blush.

#harry styles #harry fanfic #harry imagine #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #hazza #ask #long reads

[paigemarie1997]

I need some help cooling off 🥵🥵

#cute #harry #harry styles #adorable #fine line #hazza styles #love #harry styles falling #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles tour #harry styles wallpaper #harry styles smile #harry edward styles #harry styles lockscreen #harry styles x reader #solo harry #love on tour #i love him #i love this #gorgeous #harry styles tattoos #green #green outfit #harry styles concert

[havin-a-wee]

There's not a day that goes by where I don't think about riding Harry's thigh at least once 😭

could you write about something like that or do you know any fics where that happens cuz damn boyyyy

Tiger Tattoo

warnings: thigh riding (obv lol)

word count: 796

this is quite possibly the most relatable thing i have ever seen idk what it is but its so attractive. his tattoo isn’t mentioned in this but ig thought it was a fitting title

i wrote this one and i also put other fics with/about thigh riding at the end so you have more to read! hope you like it!

For the past five minutes, you have been sitting in Harry’s lap, his lips molding with yours and your tongues swirling inside each other’s mouths. You loved making out with Harry, in fact, it was one of your favorite activities. But you have been sitting in your soaked panties for about an hour now, and your body was aching for a release. When Harry had come home you had practically pounced on him, sucking on his neck hungrily while he was still processing what was going on. He took you to your bed and placed you on his lap, but it didn’t move any further, and you were getting impatient.

You decided to take the initiative to unbuckle his pants. Before your hands could reach the cold metal of the buckle his hands stopped you. You broke the kiss suddenly, afraid you were doing something that was making him uncomfortable. 

“Nope, y’not doing tha’ just yet angel.” 

Your lip stuck out in a pout and your body slumped in disappointment. If Harry didn’t want to do anything you would stop immediately but considering the fact that he said not yet, you were sure he wanted to. 

“Harryyy,” you whined, leaning your head in to place soft kisses on his defined jawline. He pushed you back to make eye contact with you, his eyes filled with lust and desire.

“I want yeh’ t’get off on m’thigh, hows tha’ sound pet?” His words were music to your ears, and you smiled brightly and nodded your head. “Gotta say it bunny, gotta hear y’say it.”

“Yes, please Harry, I want to.” You already began to roll your hips lightly against the rough fabric of his jeans, but his large hands came to grip your hips and he stopped you.

“What do you want t’do pet hm?” He gave you a sly smirk as you squirmed on his lap, your body desperate for the friction that he promised you.

“I-I want to cum on your thigh,” your voice stuttered and slurred due to your desperation, but luckily Harrys hands had begun to tug on the waistband of your leggings. You stood up quickly, peeling the black fabric off of your skin. Harry’s smirk widened when he saw you were wearing his favorite pair of your panties, but they were soon on the floor along with your leggings. You situated yourself on his left thigh and his hands repositioned themselves on your hips.

“Can feel y’gettin m’trousers all wet pet. S’this all f’me?” 

“Yes Harry, all you,” your words trailed off as he began guiding your hips against the rough denim. 

Your clit pressed against the fabric and you let out a mewl, Harry’s lips attaching to your neck. He sucked harshly, in a way that left dark bruises for you to cover up in the morning. Your hips were moving in a steady rhythm, your clit hitting his jeans. The sensation caused a shiver to run up your spine. Harry’s pressed a quick kiss to your neck before removing his lips from you, his eye trailing to where your naked heat was grinding against him. 

The fabric of his jeans gave the perfect amount of friction on your clit, and moans spilled out of you as you rolled your hips against his pants. His hands had a firm grip on your hips and he pushed you down hard each time, ensuring you the pleasure you desired. The familiar knot made itself known in your stomach as you grinded against your boyfriend's muscular thigh. His thigh was hard due to the muscles he built up there, making it the perfect place for you to grind against. You grinded down again and your swollen bundle of nerves received an extra amount of stimulation.

“Fuck, Harry, feels s-so good,” 

“Thas’ it darlin’, use me to get y’self off,” a gargled moan cut him off. “Just like tha’ angel, y’gonna come on m’thigh fo’ me?” You nodded furiously and the knot in your stomach tightened at each movement of your hips. Your body was shaky as you approached your climax, curses and moans were coming from both of you. Harry could feel your movements becoming quicker and frenzied and he moved his hands with you, allowing you to take the lead and bring yourself to your release. 

“Harry, I’m-”

“Let it go f’me darlin.” His words sent your over the edge and the knot in your stomach came undone leaving you a moaning mess. Harry worked you through your orgasm, only bringing your hips to a stop when your climax had washed through you. 

“God, y’look so hot doin tha’, using me to get y’self off,” he whispered into your ear. 

You smiled at his disheveled state and leaned into his ear. “Your turn.”

thigh riding fics:

this request by @lovemepleaase

call me h by @stylesberries

this request by @let-me-write-shit

this request and this one by @hazzasgayvodka

this request by @secret-rendezvous1d

the one with the thigh riding by @g0ld3n-cth

jamaica by @dtfharry

this request by @hxarrysbabe

#harry styles #harry styles smut #one direction smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles request #request #one direction #hazza styles #skz smut