#Harrystyles Harryfic

[lavendersindigo]

Strawberry Kisses photo board

Standing in the small market square, he scanned the apples in front of him, big, round red ones, small yellow ones, and perfectly curved green ones. He wondered how trees knew to produce fruit. He had just moved to town last week, he was still very new and still getting around to introducing himself. He was looking in the market square for work advertisements when he stumbled upon the apple stand. Various booths were strewn out around, with fresh flowers and small fruit stands making the majority, with the bakery and a meat house laying in the connected buildings that line the square. He was about to move to a stand holding what looked like cabbage when the wind picked up and the smell of lilies wafted to him. Then there she was, suddenly, long brown hair cascading down her puffy pink dress, a statement for the breezy day. The sun gleaming  as she turns around, her wavy hair flutters around her eyes as they meet his. He has to know her. 

[unabashegirl]

Echo — Dr. Styles

Harry is a cardiothoracic surgeon and Aurora is just one of his students...

Author's note: Hello everyone, this one shot has been posted a long time on Patreon. I'm finally happy to release it for all of my Tumblr followers. I hope you enjoy it. It's quite long so happy reading!

check out my patreon and get access to more :)

word count: 7.5K

masterlist

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The operating room hummed with a symphony of beeping monitors and the steady rush of air from vents. He stood at the center, surrounded by a team of skilled medical professionals, each playing their part in the delicate dance of a heart transplant.

Dressed in his scrubs, His focus was unwavering as he gazed down at the patient lying before him. The heart monitor beeped steadily, a reassuring rhythm amidst the controlled chaos of the surgery.

"Scalpel," He called out, his voice calm yet commanding. A nurse placed the tool in his outstretched hand, and with practiced precision, he made the first incision.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Harry worked, his movements sure and steady. The transplant was a delicate procedure, requiring absolute precision and unwavering focus.

As he meticulously dissected the damaged heart from the surrounding tissues, Harry's mind was a whirlwind of calculations and decisions. Every cut, every stitch, held the patient's life in the balance.

"Alright, let me have a retractor," he requested, his eyes never leaving the task at hand. A nurse handed him the instrument, and he gently maneuvered the tissues aside, revealing the beating heart beneath.

The sight never failed to awe Harry, even after years of performing surgeries. The human heart, a marvel of nature, beating with the rhythm of life itself.

With a sense of reverence, he reached for the donor heart, carefully preserved in a chilled solution nearby. As he lifted it into place, a collective breath seemed to fill the room.

"Clamp," The doctor instructed, and the new heart was secured in its rightful place. With meticulous care, he began to stitch the arteries and veins, connecting the life-giving vessels of the new heart to those of the patient.

Time seemed to both stand still and fly by in the OR. Each stitch, each suture, brought the transplant closer to completion. The team around he moved with practiced efficiency, a well-oiled machine working in perfect harmony. After six hours of standing with no breaks, he stepped back. The heart transplant was a success.

The room seemed to exhale as the monitors beeped steadily, the sound a comforting reassurance of the patient's stable condition.

"Get him to the ICU and keep me updated every hour," the surgeon instructed his intern firmly. "Stitch him up," he commanded, swiftly removing his disposable gown and gloves.

"Dr. Styles? Should I inform his wife and family? What should I say to them?" the intern asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"No, I'll take care of it. Thank you, everyone," Dr. Harry Styles replied, his voice steady and reassuring, before exiting the operating room.

As Harry stepped out of the operating room, the weight of the surgery lingered in the air around him. The hushed tones of the hospital corridor offered a stark contrast to the controlled chaos of the OR.

With a purposeful stride, he made his way to the waiting area where the patient's family anxiously awaited news. The sense of anticipation was palpable, the air heavy with worry and hope.

The patient's wife sat on the edge of her seat, her eyes red-rimmed from hours of anxious waiting. As she caught sight of Harry approaching, her heart leaped into her throat.

"Dr. Styles," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "How is he? Is he going to be okay?”

Harry paused before her, his gaze gentle yet unwavering. "Your husband is out of surgery," he began, his voice steady. "The transplant was successful, but he's still in a critical condition. We'll be monitoring him closely in the ICU."

Tears welled up in the wife's eyes, a mix of relief and fear washing over her. "Can I see him? Can I be with him?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry nodded, "Of course. He's being prepared for transfer to the ICU now. You'll be able to see him soon. Now it's a matter of time and his body's response to the new heart. I’ll go check on him in a few hours. Excuse me” He gave her a small smile before disappearing down the corridor to complete charting and also get to a meeting with the attendings and the chief.

Morning," Harry greeted as he stepped into the conference room, juggling his charts and a cold brew he'd snagged from the coffee shop outside.

"How'd the surgery go?" Niall, the attending for emergencies, inquired as Harry settled in beside him.

"Alright," Harry shrugged, already engrossed in his notes. "What's this meeting about?"

Harry and Niall had struck up a friendship recently. Niall was a natural conversationalist, known for his boisterous laughter and infectious smiles. In contrast, Harry tended to keep to himself, often lost in his thoughts.

"It's about the new surgical interns starting today," the doctor seated across from Niall shared, catching Harry's attention. He frowned, already dreading the inevitable chaos that came with the arrival of new interns. Teaching was never his favorite part of the job, but he endured it for the greater good.

"Oh, I'm excited!" Niall beamed, a glimmer of enthusiasm in his eyes that Harry couldn't quite match. He knew Niall's fondness for charming the new interns, often leading to more than just professional relationships.

"Morning," the chief greeted as he entered the room, his presence commanding attention. In his mid-sixties, the chief had hired Harry, yet their interactions remained minimal. Harry preferred it that way; he kept his circle small, especially in a place where boundaries could easily blur.

"This will be a quick meeting about the incoming interns and the duties and expectations for the next few weeks," the chief explained, setting the tone for the discussion.

Harry listened attentively as the chief outlined the responsibilities and expectations for the upcoming weeks with the new surgical interns. His gaze wandered around the room, noting the varied reactions of his colleagues.

Niall seemed positively thrilled, nodding along eagerly and already making mental notes about which interns he would be taking under his wing. Harry couldn't help but shake his head at his friend's predictable enthusiasm for the new arrivals.

On the other side of the room, Dr. Patel sat with a look of quiet determination, her focus unwavering as she absorbed every detail of the chief's instructions. Harry respected her dedication and work ethic, knowing that she would undoubtedly excel in guiding the interns. She was one of the most famous gastroenterologist surgeons in the hospital.

As the meeting progressed, Harry found himself growing more apprehensive about the impending arrival of the interns. The first few weeks were always a whirlwind of orientation, training sessions, and long hours in the OR. He knew it would test his patience and ability to teach effectively.

"Any questions?" the chief asked, bringing Harry's attention back to the present.

Harry glanced around the room, noting the silence that followed. He cleared his throat, deciding to speak up. "Just to clarify, are we each assigned specific interns to mentor, or is it more of a collective effort?"

The chief nodded, addressing Harry's question. "We have a list of assigned mentors for each intern, but I encourage all attending physicians to participate in their training and offer guidance when needed."

he chief distributed the lists of mentors to each of the attending physicians. Harry glanced down at his list and noted that he had five interns assigned to him, the majority of whom were male. It brought a slight sense of relief, knowing he might have more common ground for discussion with them, than with the female ones.

"They should be up in a few hours. They are getting introduced to their residents and the program before they're sent your way," the chief informed the group. "That will be all. Have a good day."

With that, the meeting was adjourned, and the attendings began to gather their things and prepare for the arrival of the new interns. Harry folded his list neatly and tucked it into his pocket.

After attending to some of his post-op patients, Harry returned to his rounds before a page from Camille, one of the cardiology residents, summoned him to the cardiology wing. He knew exactly what that meant – it was time to meet the new interns.

"Doctor Styles! There you are," Camille exclaimed, waving him over as he entered the room. Before him stood a group of about twenty eager faces, all eyes on him. "This is Dr. Styles, one of the leaders in our cardiac surgery program. Any decisions made here will be run through him first."

"Good morning, everyone," Harry greeted, offering a warm smile to the group. "Congratulations on being accepted into the program. It goes without saying that this will be a demanding journey, but I hope it proves to be fulfilling for each of you. I'll be mentoring a few of you directly, but please know that I'm always available for questions or guidance."

"Any questions for Dr. Styles?" Camille interjected before Harry could slip away.

One voice rose from the group, breaking the brief silence. "About the mentoring. How does it work?" the inquiry came.

"Is that you, Knight?" Camille scanned the crowd until her eyes landed on Aurora, who stepped forward, no longer hiding behind a taller colleague. "Yes," Aurora confirmed, her voice steady. "I'm just wondering when we'll find out who our mentors are and when we should meet with them?"

"We don't have a set schedule for that," Camille replied, turning to Harry for confirmation. He nodded in agreement before she continued. "It usually happens when you and the attending find a bit of time between their duties and cases. As for when your mentors will be revealed, they will progressively become known as we introduce you to the rest of the attendings," Camille explained. She then turned to Harry. "Dr. Styles, do you have your list?”

"Right," Harry acknowledged, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the list. Unfolding it, he scanned the names before finding the one he was looking for. "And Aurora Knight," he announced.

"There you go," Camille said with a smile. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Styles. We'll see you in a bit."

Aurora Knight had always been sharp, bright, and endlessly curious, but above all, she was remarkably disciplined. So, when the time arrived to select a career path, her parents were taken aback by her choice of medicine. Aurora's unwavering discipline had guided her through many challenges, yet the surgical program posed an entirely new and demanding playing field.

At 27 years old, Aurora Knight was a striking figure with her long, tousled blonde hair framing her face. Her hazel eyes sparkled with intelligence and a hint of mischief, reflecting her sharp wit and curious nature. Despite her petite stature, there was an undeniable presence about her, an aura of confidence and determination that seemed to radiate from within. With a warm smile that could light up a room, Aurora carried herself with a grace.

"We'll be dividing into groups now," Camille announced, her voice carrying over the bustling activity of the surgical wing. "Each group will be assigned a new case, with an attending and resident in charge. Please listen to your resident and attending," she emphasized, gesturing for the interns to pay attention.

Aurora listened attentively as Camille began calling out last names, assigning each intern to their respective groups. As the names were called, excitement buzzed through the room, mingled with a touch of nervous energy.

"I hope I get to be with Dr. Styles," Aurora heard a voice beside her murmur. She couldn't help but smile at the comment, the sentiment echoing her own thoughts about the charming head of the cardiac surgery program.

Aurora kept her gaze fixed on the floor, not bothering to glance up at the others around her. Despite her outward confidence, it was all a facade. In truth, she was more of an introvert, often finding solace in the quiet moments of reflection.

However, being reserved didn't mean she was blind. She couldn't help but admire his striking features from the corner of her eye.

"Knight," Camille's voice finally broke through her thoughts, and Aurora looked up to see Camille pointing to a group of five. She was the last to be called, completing the group.

"You five will be heading down to the emergency room," Camille commanded, her voice firm. "You do remember where it is, right?" All five of them nodded in response. Aurora, however, couldn't recall, but she still nodded, not wanting to risk embarrassing herself and standing out.

The group of interns began to make their way downstairs in silence. None of them knew each other, but circumstances had brought them together on this task.

"Does anyone actually know where it is?" one of the men finally broke the silence, voicing the question that had likely been on all their minds.

The question hung in the air for a moment before Aurora spoke up, her voice steady despite the slight nervous flutter in her stomach. "I'm not entirely sure," she admitted, her hazel eyes meeting the gaze of her fellow interns.

The man who had asked the question nodded in understanding, a small smile playing on his lips. "I guess we’ll figure it out all together" he reassured, his tone friendly. “I am Milo”

“Aurora” She shook her hand.

The group continued down the corridors of the hospital, following the signs that pointed toward the emergency room. As they walked, conversation began to flow more freely, the initial awkwardness of being strangers starting to fade.

Aurora found herself drawn into the discussions, her curiosity piqued as she listened to her new colleagues share their experiences and aspirations. Despite the nerves that still lingered in the back of her mind, she couldn't deny the sense of camaraderie that was beginning to form among them.

Soon, they reached the bustling entrance of the emergency room, the controlled chaos of medical staff and patients filling the space. Camille had mentioned they would be assisting with a new case, and Aurora felt a surge of anticipation mingled with a touch of apprehension.

"We should check in with the attending," one of the interns suggested, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group as they took in the scene before them.

Aurora nodded in agreement, the group moving towards the attending physician who was overseeing the ER that day.

They stood awkwardly a few feet away from Niall as he diligently checked over some charts and finished a note on a patient. All five of them glanced at each other, silently urging someone to muster the courage to approach.

Eventually, Niall felt the weight of their glances on him and spoke up without looking up from his work. "I won't bite," he said, trying to ease the tension. “He is in there”

Just as they were about to make a move, the voice of Dr. Styles boomed through the room. "About time! Where the bloody hell have you been?!" he yelled, the urgency evident in his tone.

The interns hurried into the room, where they found Dr. Styles performing CPR on an unconscious patient. "What are you doing? Get in here!" he commanded, his voice urgent as he gestured for them to join him.

Aurora struggled to maintain focus, but it was nearly impossible not to be captivated by Dr. Styles' striking appearance as he fought to save a life. The muscles beneath his uniform strained with effort, his hair falling in disarray as he applied pressure. Despite his intense concentration, a furrowed brow revealed his determination to revive the patient. Suddenly, his commanding voice snapped her out of her reverie.

Without hesitation, she reached for a pair of gloves and swiftly approached the table.

"Let's get an EKG on him, Dr. Knight. You know how to do that, right? Or do I have to draw it for you?" Harry's voice cut through the urgency of the moment. Aurora nodded, her focus already on the task at hand. She began placing the electrodes on the patient's chest, each one carefully positioned. She ignored his harsh comment doubting her abilities.

"You, intubate him," Harry's next command came without pause as he assessed the patient's vitals.

Milo, one of the other interns, tried to not hesitate. He moved to the head of the bed, positioning himself to intubate the man efficiently.

"He's still bradycardic," Aurora muttered to herself, her eyes scanning the monitors as the rest of the team worked swiftly around the patient. Aurora looked down at her shoes and noticed the blood that was pooling under the stretcher. " he's bleeding from somewhere," she added, her gaze shifting to the man's sides.

"Can we roll him over?" Aurora looked up, meeting Harry's gaze with determination.

Harry nodded in agreement, quickly commanding the nurses to assist.

"I'll help," Autumn, another intern, offered, stepping forward to join Aurora.

Together, they carefully maneuvered the patient onto his side, revealing the source of the bleeding. There, in the fourth intercostal space, was a large and ominous laceration. The sight sent a jolt of urgency through the team as they assessed the severity of the injury and prepared to take swift action.

As the patient's vital signs continued to plummet, Harry's urgency grew palpable. "Dr. Madden, were you able to intubate?" he pressed, his gaze fixed on the worsening situation.

"Just give me a second," Dr. Madden muttered, his focus intent on getting a clear view of the vocal cords.

"We don't have a second, Dr. Madden. Did you do it or not?!" Harry's voice rose with frustration as Aurora and Autumn applied pressure to the wound. "Dr. Madden!"

"I-I..." Dr. Madden hesitated, faltering under the pressure of the tense situation.

Harry wasted no time. With decisive action, he stepped in and pushed Dr. Madden aside, taking control of the intubation process himself. In a matter of moments, the patient was successfully intubated, the urgency of the situation leaving no room for hesitation.

"Let's get him to the operating room," Harry declared, his voice commanding as the team mobilized to move the patient to the next phase of treatment.

The tension in the room was palpable as the chaos of the moment began to subside. It felt as though a storm had swept through, leaving behind an eerie calmness in its wake. All five interns remained rooted to their spots, their expressions a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"He absolutely despises us," Autumn broke the silence, her voice tinged with frustration as she began to remove her gloves.

"Speak for yourself. He hates me," Milo sighed, his tone resigned. "I just couldn't get a clear view."

"At least he didn't offer to draw it out for you," Aurora quipped, attempting to inject a bit of levity into the tense atmosphere. The others chuckled nervously, their laughter quickly fading as they realized Harry had come back into the room.

Aurora, unaware of his presence behind her, continued to face away, while Autumn's eyes widened in apprehension. The realization dawned on them that their mentor had witnessed their candid conversation, adding another layer of tension to the already fraught situation.

"As soon as you're changed, I'll meet you all in the operating room," Harry announced, his pager interrupting the moment. Once the door closed behind him, a collective sigh of relief filled the room.

"Shit," Aurora thought to herself, the weight of the situation settling heavily on her shoulders.

"Good morning, everyone," Harry greeted as he entered the operating room. Aurora lingered in the back, blending into the crowd, attempting to mask her rising anxiety. Despite her efforts, she couldn't shake the nagging fear that Harry might use her comment to have her expelled from the program.

As Harry began to address the team, Aurora's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing with worry. She had worked tirelessly to earn her place in the program, but one wrong move, one mistake, and it could all be taken away.

She watched as Harry moved about the room with confidence, his presence commanding attention from everyone present. His expertise was undeniable, his reputation as a skilled surgeon preceding him.

Aurora couldn't help but feel a pang of inadequacy as she compared herself to him. She was still learning, still finding her footing in the high-pressure environment of the operating room. The thought of disappointing him, of failing to meet his expectations, filled her with dread.

As the surgery got underway, Aurora focused on her tasks, trying to block out the persistent voice of doubt in her mind. She knew she had to prove herself, to show Harry and the rest of the team that she was capable, that she belonged here.

But with each passing moment, the weight of her anxiety grew heavier, threatening to overwhelm her. She couldn't afford to make a mistake, not now, not when so much was at stake.

"Dr. Knight," he called out, his voice cutting through her reverie. "Could you come here and hold the retractor?"

Aurora quietly extricated herself from the crowd, making her way to the table. With the assistance of a nurse, she put on gloves and a gown before positioning herself at the table.

"Here," he said, his hand extending the instrument towards her.

Their fingers brushed briefly as she accepted the tool. She couldn't help but notice the warmth of his hand compared to her own chill. Pushing aside any distractions, she focused on the task at hand, determined to carry out her duties with precision and professionalism.

She could only see his eyes and that was enough to make her nervous.

She tried to push aside the fluttering in her stomach and the way her heart seemed to skip a beat every time their eyes met. This wasn't the time or place for distractions. She had a job to do, a patient relying on her steady hands and focused mind.

With each passing moment, Aurora found herself slipping further into the rhythm of the surgery. The sounds of the operating room faded into the background as she concentrated on her task, her movements precise and calculated.

"Alright, that's all," Harry declared as he completed the final stitch. "Thank you, everyone." With that, he was the first to leave the room.

Aurora hesitated, waiting until Harry had exited before entering herself. Alone with him, she couldn't shake the sudden surge of apprehension. Despite her nerves, she couldn't fathom why he had specifically called upon her to assist him.

"Dr. Knight. A moment," he intercepted her as soon as she emerged from the scrub room. She swallowed hard, her heart pounding, and obediently followed him.

Harry led her outside of the hospital to a small coffee cart situated right by the entrance.

"Dr. Styles, I—"

"Latte or Americano?" He cut her off before she could finish, his question unexpected.

"Latte," she nervously replied as he ordered an Americano for himself and a latte for her.

"Dr. Styles, I just wanted to apologize for my comment. I want you to know that it won't happen again," she confessed, her words rushed and tinged with remorse.

"I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to underestimate you in any way, Dr. Knight," he began after handing her the coffee and settling the bill with the vendor. "I'm certain that you're more than capable of handling not just an EKG, but any task thrown your way." He paid the woman and handed her drink. "I suppose I let the situation get the best of me. Just keep working as diligently as you have been, and you'll go far," he concluded before disappearing into the hospital.

Aurora remained behind, stunned by his words. As she processed his unexpected encouragement, she felt a newfound confidence settle within her.

Two months had passed since they began their tenure at the hospital. In that time, Aurora had forged strong bonds with Milo, Autumn, Daniel, and Abigail. However, Greyson had proven to be a persistent issue from day one. His reluctance to collaborate made him a challenge in a profession where teamwork was paramount.

As for Harry, he had remained standoffish. Since their last encounter, he hadn't directly addressed Aurora. Known for his impartiality and lack of favoritism, Harry maintained a neutral stance, assessing everyone solely on their ability to perform and execute.

“Right. Who will be assisting me today?” Harry asked as he looked around the operating room. His patient was being intervene due to a gun wound. He had already started operating, but though it would be a good idea to allow them to stitch up. “Milo and Aurora”.

Most of them had assisted him in the days prior, and today, Harry wanted both Milo and Aurora to have the opportunity to experience stitching up cardiac muscle.

Aurora silently recited the steps she had meticulously studied from textbooks and articles before entering the operating room. She made a conscious effort to recall every detail, anticipating that Harry might quiz them verbally. The nurse assisted Aurora in donning a gown and gloves, mirroring the nervous expression worn by Milo.

They positioned themselves opposite to Harry around the patient, they awaited instructions.

"Dr. Madden, could you assist me with this stitch?" Harry directed, prompting Milo to retrieve the necessary tools from the instrumental nurse. With careful precision, Milo attempted the stitch, mindful of Harry's guidance to ensure it held securely without compromising blood supply.

"I think that should do it," Milo ventured uncertainly, recalling Harry's recent advice on the importance of confidence in one's work.

"Very well. Dr. Knight, if you would?" Harry indicated to Aurora. Milo stepped aside, allowing her to take her turn. Aurora's task involved suturing the left coronary artery, a delicate procedure made more challenging by its angle relative to the heart. With a steady hand, Aurora cautiously slipped her fingers into the chest cavity, her nerves palpable.

Harry's reassuring voice broke through her anxiety. "Don't let it intimidate you," he encouraged, their eyes meeting in a moment of shared determination.

Aurora nodded silently, her focus returning to the intricate network of arteries illuminated by her headlamp. With determination, she began stitching, her concentration unyielding. The heart before them was far from healthy, but the man on the table had a family anxiously awaiting good news - a wife and two children relying on their expertise.

Suddenly, the monitor's alarming beep shattered the tense silence. Aurora's heart raced as she looked up, instantly gripped by nerves.

"What's happening?" Harry demanded, his voice sharp with urgency as he leaned over the cavity. "What did you do?" His tone rose with concern as he hurried to assist her in exploring the cavity.

"I didn't do anything!" Aurora protested, frantically searching for signs of bleeding around her stitches. "I followed the textbook guidelines," she muttered, her fear palpable.

Harry met her gaze, sensing her distress. "Find the source of the bleed," he instructed firmly, but the cavity was rapidly filling with blood. "Get a bag of O neg."

"I can't see anything," Aurora admitted, her panic mounting as she struggled to maintain composure.

"Think, Dr. Knight!" Harry urged, the urgency in his voice escalating. "The patient is crashing. What's your next move? Find the bleed!" His words reverberated in the operating room, but Aurora remained frozen in fear.

"Step away from the table, Dr. Knight," Harry commanded, his tone firm. "Leave the OR."

Feeling overwhelmed, Aurora hastily removed her gown and other attire, desperate for relief from the constriction. It was as if everything had become too tight, making it difficult to breathe or see clearly. Without a moment's hesitation, she fled the operating room and scrubbed out.

Navigating the hospital corridors, Aurora was acutely aware of the rising panic within her. Recognizing the signs of a panic attack, she sought solace in a nearby supply closet, allowing herself a moment of privacy to release her emotions. Though tears flowed freely, she couldn't shake the memory of her mother's advice never to cry in public, especially at work. Despite the overwhelming urge, Aurora remained composed, and like a good girl she followed the rules.

Twenty minutes elapsed before Harry emerged from the operating room. With a heavy sigh, he immediately noticed Aurora's absence, both outside the OR and in the scrub room. Removing his surgical cap, he made his way to the waiting room, his heart heavy with the weight of failure. Despite their efforts, the patient had succumbed to their condition, even after receiving extensive treatment with blood and adrenaline. Harry's attempts to resuscitate them had been in vain.

"I'll see you all in the conference room, and make sure the autopsy authorization is filled out by then," Harry commanded, addressing Milo, Autumn, Daniel, Greyson, and Abigail. "Where is Knight?" he inquired, noticing her absence. The interns remained silent, unsure of her whereabouts. "Regardless, proceed with requesting the autopsy."

After speaking with the family, Harry embarked on a search for Aurora. He scoured every corner of the hospital until he finally heard her sobbing in the supply room. Without hesitation, he used his key for access and entered, ensuring the door was closed behind him.

Aurora hastily wiped her tears and stood up from the floor as Harry entered.

"Dr. Styles," she managed to say between sobs, attempting to compose herself but unable to stop the tears from flowing. "I am sorry for what happened—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Harry's lips met hers. A rush of unexpected emotions flooded through him at the sight of her tears. He had always found her attractive, but he had maintained strict boundaries. Yet, in that moment, something shifted.

His fingers entwined in her hair as their kiss deepened. Initially taken aback, Aurora's confusion gave way to surrender. She allowed herself to be carried away by the intensity of the moment. Harry kissed her with a tenderness, but Aurora could feel the passion bruising her lips and swelling them.

As their kiss continued, time seemed to stand still. In that fleeting moment, Harry and Aurora were lost in each other, their worries and inhibitions fading into the background.

But just as quickly as it began, the reality of their situation came crashing back. Harry reluctantly pulled away, his fingers lingering on Aurora's cheek as they shared a silent, knowing look. They didn’t interchange any words. With a heavy heart, Harry turned and left the supply room, leaving Aurora alone with her thoughts and the echoes of their forbidden kiss.

"What happened to you? Are your interns driving you crazy already?" Niall inquired, joining Harry in the cafeteria where he sat with an untouched tray of food.

"Pretty much," Harry chuckled nervously, attempting to distract himself from the recent kiss he shared with Aurora.

"At least, there are some attactive ones," Niall added, digging into the burger he had ordered.

As Niall continued to talk about the interns, Harry found it increasingly difficult to focus on the conversation. Thoughts of Aurora and their momentary lapse in judgment lingered in his mind, casting a shadow over everything else.

"Yeah, they're certainly... interesting," Harry mumbled absentmindedly, his mind wandering back to the supply room where he had left Aurora.

Niall noticed the distraction in Harry's demeanor and raised an eyebrow. "Everything alright, mate?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Harry shook his head slightly, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, just a lot on my mind, you know?" he replied vaguely, not wanting to delve into the details.

Niall nodded understandingly, but the concern in his eyes didn't waver. "Well, if you ever need to talk about it, I'm here," he offered, placing a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Thanks," Harry said sincerely, grateful for his friend's support. But even as he tried to push aside the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to become even more complicated.

Harry contemplated confiding in Niall. He longed for advice, a listening ear to untangle the mess of emotions swirling inside him. But the fear of Niall inadvertently disclosing their conversation to the chief held him back. Despite his growing feelings for Aurora, Harry hesitated to jeopardize his career and reputation over a fleeting attraction.

He departed that day after assigning a substantial list of tasks that needed to be completed.

He had hoped that by leaving, he could silence the relentless thoughts racing through his mind. Yet, even after hitting the gym and attending pilates classes, nothing seemed to make a difference. Harry remained plagued by confusion over why he had walked away without a word.

Now, he realized he needed to have a conversation with her. He needed to explain why it had happened, to assure her that it was just a single mistake and nothing more.

The following day, Harry arrived at the hospital earlier than usual. After grabbing a coffee, he began his rounds, checking on his patients. However, just as he thought he would have some time alone and that Aurora wouldn't be around, he unexpectedly encountered her. She was seated on one of the vacant stretchers on the OR floor, engrossed in what appeared to be studying.

Not wanting to interrupt her concentration, Harry debated whether to approach. Yet, he knew he needed to pass by her to reach his destination.

"Dr. Knight," he addressed her, making a conscious decision to acknowledge her presence. Continuing on his path without expecting a response, he felt a surge of nervousness. His heart raced, pounding in his chest as if it might burst. Despite his expertise in cardiovascular surgery, his palms sweated profusely, giving the sensation of a heart attack to someone less accustomed to such symptoms.

"Dr. Styles, could I speak with you, please?" Her soft voice caught him off guard from behind.

"Sure," he replied, attempting to appear composed though his nerves were anything but. "Follow me." Leading her upstairs to the rooftop, Harry sought solace in his refuge during the most challenging times.

"Listen, Dr. Knight. I know that I was completely—"

"Dr. Styles, I just wanted to apologize for what happened in the OR—"

Their words collided as they spoke simultaneously, their apologies hanging in the air between them.

"I crossed a boundary yesterday, and I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm your superior, and I'm supposed to be your teacher instead of..." Harry rushed out, "It won't happen again."

Aurora was taken aback. She wasn't inclined to apologize for the kiss; in fact, she had quite enjoyed it. Nor did she want him to apologize for it. The realization that it wouldn't be repeated left her feeling disappointed.

"Yeah, alright, Dr. Styles," Aurora nodded, feeling as though her apology for the incident in the OR had been rendered unnecessary and brushed aside. Disappointed, she managed a small smile before leaving, too disheartened to continue the conversation or remain in his presence.

Harry remained upstairs, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him like an eternity. Suddenly, he heard the door open, accompanied by the sound of giggles. Glancing over his shoulder, he instantly recognized the couple: Niall with a third-year intern. Harry recalled her; he had been her advisor during her second year. They shared a kiss, and as Niall pulled away, his eyes met with Harry's.

Upon noticing Harry on the roof, the intern hastily retreated, eager to vacate the scene. Niall allowed her to run out before he approached Harry.

"Why are you here?" Niall asked, standing beside him, his embarrassment and nervousness palpable. He wasn't ashamed of their relationship, but he understood the potential consequences if they were discovered and reported.

"Just getting some air. You?" Harry replied casually.

"Look, Harry—" Niall began, but Harry interrupted him.

"No need to explain, Niall. I won't say anything," Harry reassured him. Even if he hadn't kissed Aurora, he wouldn't have exposed Niall's secret. "Is it worth it?"

"She is," Niall replied after a moment of silence. "Not everything is about work. We all need to enjoy life a little. What kind of life would it be if we never took any risks?"

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Harry admitted after a few moments. Life had grown mundane and routine lately. However, since Aurora had entered his life, things had become more exciting. Now, he found himself looking forward to going to the hospital.

As Harry reflected on the newfound excitement Aurora had brought into his life, he couldn't help but acknowledge the subtle shifts in his routine. Each day at the hospital held the promise of unexpected moments, whether it was a challenging surgery, a meaningful interaction with a patient, or even the briefest exchange with Aurora herself.

Despite the complications and risks inherent in their budding relationship, Harry felt a renewed sense of vitality and purpose. Perhaps taking a chance on love was worth the potential consequences. After all, life was meant to be lived fully, even if it meant stepping outside the boundaries of what was considered safe and predictable.

In the bustling atmosphere downstairs, Aurora found herself engrossed in the tasks of tending to outpatient consults and suturing wounds in the emergency room. It was a deliberate effort on her part to refine her skills; the prospect of returning to the operating room filled her with trepidation. Despite her best efforts to dissect every detail of the previous surgery in her mind, she remained uncertain about what had gone awry. Tempted to lay blame on Harry and the intense exchanges they had shared across the operating table, she struggled to shake off the lingering doubts.

Just as she was completing the discharge process for a woman who had sustained a laceration to her eyebrow, Aurora's pager buzzed urgently, summoning her to the cardiology wing. With a sense of urgency, she set aside her current tasks and hastened towards her next destination.

Much to her surprise, when Aurora arrived, Harry had summoned everyone.

"The autopsy has been completed. I thought it would be a good exercise to review it and identify where we may have gone wrong," Harry announced as she entered the room. "Dr. Knight, please take a seat," he instructed, handing a copy of the autopsy report to each person present.

Nervously, Aurora settled between Milo and Autumn, her apprehension palpable.

"Dr. Madden, please begin," Harry prompted, and the group delved into dissecting every detail of the report.

"So, what was the issue? Where did we go wrong?" Harry inquired after they had finished scrutinizing the final word.

Silence filled the room as everyone hesitated to speak. Aurora knew what had transpired, but she hesitated to voice her thoughts; she was reluctant to assign blame to anyone.

Silence lingered in the room as Harry's question echoed, met only by the sound of his watch ticking away the seconds. He glanced at the time, realizing his own time constraints. "I don’t have all day," he stated firmly, casting a discerning gaze over the assembled group. Among them, Aurora's eyes met his, devoid of the confusion evident in the others. He hesitated to call on her, torn between the desire for her insight and the fear of alienating her.

Before he could make a decision, Milo spoke up, his tone tinged with shame. "My stitches came undone, causing the cavity to fill with blood," he admitted, eyes downcast. Harry nodded, a plan forming in his mind.

"I'll arrange practice sessions for each of you next week to work on your skills. You're all dismissed. Dr. Knight, a word," he instructed as the others filed out of the room without protest. Once they were gone, Harry locked the door behind them.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to face Aurora, his demeanor softening. "I don't regret our kiss," he confessed, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his lips. "If it were up to me, I'd spend the whole day doing just that."

Despite her efforts to conceal it, her smile threatened to reveal her true feelings, while the blush creeping up her cheeks betrayed her nervousness. Stepping closer to him, Aurora closed the distance between them, her arms encircling his neck as Harry's hands found their way to her hips. He pressed a kiss to her forearm, his gaze locked with hers, and in that moment, the world seemed to fade away around them.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the tension between them palpable, Harry couldn't help but feel a rush of conflicting emotions. He knew the risks involved in pursuing anything beyond a professional relationship with Aurora, yet he found himself unable to resist her magnetic pull.

Taking a deep breath, Harry leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. In that moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the intensity of their shared desire.

Aurora's hands deftly slid Harry's white coat off his broad shoulders, a sense of urgency in her touch. Harry reciprocated, lifting her effortlessly off the floor as their lips met in a fervent kiss. With a swift motion, he gently placed her on the nearby table, his hands moving with purpose to rid her of her scrubs.

"God, I've been craving this moment since the day we met," he murmured breathlessly, the heat between them igniting with his words. Every touch, every caress sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body, building a fire of desire that threatened to consume them both.

As Harry peeled off her top, Aurora's breath caught in her throat at the sight that greeted her. She hadn't expected to find intricate tattoos adorning his skin, each one a testament to a hidden side of him she longed to explore.

Aware of the ticking clock, Harry felt a sense of urgency creeping in. He understood the fleeting nature of the moment, knowing his beeper could disrupt their intimacy at any instant. With a swift motion, he lowered his pants just enough to free himself, his focus fixed on savoring every second.

As his lips trailed down her body, Harry uncovered her breasts, his mouth eagerly seeking out the tender breasts. With delicate precision, he lavished attention on each voluptuous, perky nipple, relishing the taste and texture beneath his touch.

"We're running out of time," she moaned, urgency lacing her words as she struggled to discard her pants. "I need you, now," she pleaded, her desire palpable. Harry's smile deepened as he peppered kisses along her neck, swiftly removing her pants with eager hands.

With a sense of determination, he pushed aside her underwear, his touch eliciting a shiver of anticipation. Slowly, he teased her wet folds with his head, each caress heightening her arousal. Finally, he entered her, their synchronized moans echoing in the room as they became one.

Their union was a symphony of passion and desire, the intensity building with each rhythmic thrust. Harry's movements were primal, driven by an unquenchable hunger for her. Aurora arched into him, her nails digging into his skin as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Lost in the sounds of ecstasy, they surrendered to the moment, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Every touch, every kiss, ignited a fire within them, consuming them with a raw, primal need.

As their climax approached, the world around them faded into oblivion, leaving only the pulsating rhythm of their entwined bodies. In that fleeting moment, they were consumed by an overwhelming sense of bliss.

As they reached their climax of pleasure, they let out a simultaneous cry of release, their souls intertwining in a moment of pure bliss.

But as the echoes of their passion faded into the night, reality came crashing back, reminding them of the world outside their cocoon of desire. With gentle kisses and whispered promises, they held onto each other, knowing that their love would endure whatever challenges lay ahead. Because even though Harry was risking his entire career by having sex with her in a conference room at the hospital, it was all worth it to him because he finally felt like he was living again.

[mulledcherrywine]

Act My Age

summary: harry gets a grey hair

a/n: can we talk about the cover image? like the RESEMBLANCE? it’s bad for me 🚬

Early Tuesday morning, you woke up from a pretty rough sleep. You didn’t see any point in trying to fight yourself back to sleep, and you had to be up in an hour anyway. Besides, as you could tell from his empty space on the right side of you, Harry was already up as well.

Half awake, you stumbled into the bathroom, rubbing your eyes from sleep. You would’ve nearly crashed into Harry had your eyes not cleared up.

He was bend over the counter, scissors just grazing the front part of his hair.

“Harry Styles!” you shouted, grabbing the scissors - as safely as possible - from his grip, “Are you mad?”

“Look!” he said, turning to face you and pointing to spot on his hair where the scissors had been moments ago.

“Okay, what exactly am I supposed to be seeing?”

“I’ve got grey hairs”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to scope out what he was talking about.

“Where?” you asked, gently skimming your fingers through the curls at the front of his head.

He faced toward the mirror, squinting to seek it out. After a couple of moments, he landed on the one hair he was loosing his mind over.

“See? There.” He indicated, the both of you now facing your reflections in the mirror.

You could see the small shiny strand in the darkness of his usual hair shade, but really only because he had pointed it out.

More than anything, you were glad you stopped him from taking the scissors to his hair. Harry was good at many things, but cutting hair was likely not one of them.

“Harry, you can’t even see that”

He sighed slightly, still affixing his eyes in his reflection.

You went around behind him, draping your arms over his shoulders, clearly tense from his anxieties of old age, despite not even being thirty years old yet.

“S’gonna be all grey soon, watch. Y’still love me then?”

You knew he was joking, but you could still sense the little hint of worry.

“You know what I think?” you said, resting your chin in the nape of his neck, “I think It’s pretty”

“I thought you couldn’t see it” he said, smiling suspiciously.

You gave a small kiss to the dimple on the side of his face.

“See what?”

[stylesloveclub]

KARMA masterlist

+++

KARMA - part 1

In which y/n tends to make a lot of spontaneous decisions when she’s drunk, and Harry’s a tattoo artist who hates kids.

KARMA - part 2

In which y/n and Harry start to see each other a lot more, and he needs to learn how to be nicer to her. ONLY ON PATREON! 

KARMA - part 3

In which Harry doesn’t really get why he’s jealous. Also — how do you ask someone to be your girlfriend? ONLY ON PATREON!

karma tag! 

+++

[henrysteelsmurryme]

dealerry

a little something that I absolutely love yet have no motivation to continue...unless....

: :

Eli sighs contently as she strolls along the sidewalk. The leaves on the trees are transitioning from their summery green to the warm yellows, deep reds, and burnt oranges. The sun is shining yet the air is crisp, the perfect weather for a sweater because the academic buildings haven’t yet turned on the heat.

It’s a perfect fall day.

Only, she isn’t wearing a sweater. Instead, she has on a fitted pink knit top that she’s paired with straight light-washed jeans and her classic white sneakers. Her tote bag rests on her shoulder, a sweatshirt shoved in there that she’ll put on after her little rendezvous. And, speaking of which, she’s approaching the designated spot and can already see her acquaintance waiting for her.

He greets Eli with a flirty grin that he seems to reserve only for her. He has plenty of other signature smirks and smiles, ones that he uses on other people, but only she receives this special grin, the ‘Eli grin’ as he likes to call it. “Hey, babygirl.”

She smiles back, for some reason feeling giddy. Actually, she knows the reason: it’s because he’s really fucking hot. he knows it. Everyone knows it. She can’t help but get a little flustered every time someone as gorgeous as him gives her a sliver of his attention. “Hey, Harry. How are you?” His tone is way too suggestive to say to someone who’s in a relationship, but Harry’s never been one to shy away from a challenge. “Much better now.” He walks toward her, meeting Eli halfway and lifting his arms. She walks right into him, hugging him around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. He gives great hugs; he’s firm yet gentle, and he always holds the embrace for a while. She’s pretty sure he only hugs her like this.

Eli inhales deeply, reveling in his signature scent of mary jane and Old Spice. Within the last couple of weeks, whenever she gets a whiff of that sweet scent, she thinks of him. Then the fluttery feeling usually (always) follows.

He’s looking especially cozy today, decked in a pair of baggy grey sweatpants, the bottoms cuffed and revealing white Nike socks that are scrunched down. He’s wearing a hot pink sweatshirt, the hood covering his curly brown hair, the words ‘Girly Girl’ printed underneath a rainbow on his chest—he had found it at the thrift store, and when he discovered it was in his size, he claimed it was “fate”—just like meeting her was “fate.” It matches his shoes, a pair of light pink Reebok sneakers to which he never bothers tying the laces.

Harry squeezes Eli tightly, until a strained squeak leaves her lips. He hums, treasuring the last few moments before letting go and stepping back with a soft, cheeky smile on his face.

She cocks her head to the side. “You seem tired.”

He nods, rubbing his eye with the knuckle of his index finger. “I am, baby. Spent all fucking night writing a stupid fucking paper for philosophy.” Then, he adds sheepishly (or, as sheepishly as Harry Styles can get), “I may have been really fucking high while writing it, but I already submitted it, so, fuck it.” He shrugs. “I feel like I’m at my fucking best when I’m high though.” He sets his hands on his waist and shifts his weight onto one foot. He nods at Eli with a serious expression on his face, letting her know that he meant what he said. “My creative juices are flowing faster than the fucking speed of light, ya know?”

“No.” She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself to avoid shivering. Before Harry opens his mouth, she says forcefully, “I don’t want your sweatshirt,” which is a lie; she does want his sweatshirt, because she likes it and thinks it’s cute, but not in this situation where he’s asking only because he wants to be flirty with her.

He shakes his head. His backpack hangs in one shoulder, and he swings the pack around to the front of his chest to dig inside. “Don’t know why you didn’t bring a fucking sweatshirt. It’s cold, baby, you’ll get sick.”

He hands her the stash, and instead of saying thank you, Eli asks jokingly, “Do you know my name?”

He grins at her. “I don’t need to when ‘baby’ suits you just fine.”

She sighs, then slaps the cash into his open palm. He tries to close his fingers around her hand, but she wrangles it out with a sweet giggle that sounds like music to Harry’s ears.

“Well,” she stands tall, pushing her shoulders back and, consequently, her chest out. She can feel the soft fabric of her shirt shift against her nipples, the cold only making them more sensitive as they harden. She doesn’t miss the way Harry’s eyes drift down; it’s why she’s wearing this shirt in the middle of October. Harry gives her the “hot-girl discount” (his words), and she gives him a nice, personal “hot-girl thank you” (her words) in the form of her nipples peeking through her shirt. It’s a win-win.

Her boyfriend hates it, despite the fact that she never wears a bra anyway. Yet he claims she’s doing it for Harry which…she is, but it’s for the discount, and she doesn’t ever hear him complaining about the discount.

The corners of Harry’s lips quirk up into a smirk. Then he bites into his bottom lip. “Try not to get through this shit too quickly this time, hot stuff, yeah? I worry about you and your pretty little fucking lungs.”

“Yeah,” Eli says, deciding to play along. She pops a hip and plays with the hem of her shirt, pursing her lips. Her voice takes on an obviously forced tilt of innocence, laced heavily with flirty suggestion. “I’m not really sure I’m doing it right.”

Harry’s voice drops, the deep baritone sending shivers through her body. Her nipples could cut through steel right now. “Well, you know you’re always welcome at my place. I’ll show you how to do it all right.”

She tries not to snort; she may have accidentally revealed to Harry that her boyfriend isn’t exactly the king of the bed. He hasn’t forgotten about it—in fact, he’s continuously reminded her that he remembers, even in front of her boyfriend, who, thankfully, hasn’t realized. He’s picking up on it though, because Harry isn’t exactly subtle.

She sighs lightly, continuing the act of innocence. “Yeah, maybe. I’d really appreciate it.” Then her voice returns to normal, a genuine smile growing on her lips. Harry returns his own, and they take a moment to bask in each other’s presence before she says, “Bye, Harry.”

“Bye, babygirl. Can’t wait to see your pretty fucking face again.”

—

soooo....what do we think? we like? bc personally, i love. i just need some more ideas....

[daydreamingofmatilda]

awwwwww stop this is too sweet 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Sweet Creature.

I got inspired by this || Masterlist || Harry Masterlist || Requests/ Tell me what you think! || Would you want a part two??? 

Pairing: Harry x fem!reader

Summary: Harry has been trying to get a record deal and finally does, now he and reader celebrate just how he promised her. (Set in the late 60′s early 70′s) I highly recommend listening to the song linked above!! (aka what I got inspired by!!) 

Warnings: None? there is food mentioned ( Lmk if i missed anything!!) 

Word count: 3k+

I hope you enjoy!! Happy reading!! -G <3

-

-

Keep reading

[unabashegirl]

MASTERLIST

ONE SHOTS

Kings of Leon

Wear something noticeable || Part 2

Equatorial Sun

What are you doing up?

My head is spinning over you

Pax Romana

Harry's grammy performance

You lied to me

Chocolate cake

Golden Boy

Nameless

Meeting her || Part 2 || Part 3

Echo

Camping

my best friend’s dad || part 2

Fragments || part 2

Entangled || part 2

INSTAGRAM BLURBS

Dating hints

Pregnancy

Sadie Sink

Elsa Hosk

Lori Harvey

Pudderfly

Deepika Padukon

Dakota Johnson

Matilda Djerf

Gracie Abrams

Bella Hadid

SERIES

if you want to get ahead and get access to all chapter then check out my patreon!

Summary: Harry is a young billionaire and CEO of his own company. He mostly keeps to himself, he is stern and very meticulous when it comes to business. He also likes to keep his personal life very private for the sake of his newly born son Oliver Styles. It isn't until he meets Y/N Y/L/N that everything changes. She becomes his new nanny after his previous one quits due to personal reasons. She is young, caring, and sweet. Will they ignore their feelings? Will Harry's girlfriend accept their love and leave them? Will she be able to cope with his busy agenda? What about Oliver's mother? Where is she? Who is she?

masterlist

Summary: Harry Styles, the cold and calculating son of a powerful mafia don, must consolidate power after his father's passing. He faces challenges from his unpredictable younger brother, Silas, and navigates a complex world of alliances, ruthless decisions, and family loyalty. Amidst the intrigue, the elegant and alluring Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, attends the funeral and finds herself drawn to Harry. As power dynamics shift and the future remains uncertain, the story explores the dark and dangerous allure of the mafia, the weight of family legacies, and the potential for unexpected connections in a world defined by secrecy and ruthlessness.

masterlist

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is forced to return to the town where she was born for extraordinary reasons. Her father is extremely sick and on the verge of passing away. Alsfield has changed and is far from what she remembers and even though she lived in town until her high school graduation she barely recognizes it. The town hides a big secret from a few individuals that live in it including Y/N. The man who maintains the town's secret and protects it is no other than Harry Styles. Things take a sudden twist when they meet. Numerous things will impede Y/N from returning to San Francisco to her somewhat ordinary life, will she be able to abandon the town that she had successfully escaped the first time? What is the big secret that the townspeople are hiding, and what is Y/N's role in it? Who is Harry? Where does he come from? Had she met him before? And what does he want from her?

masterlist

Summary: Harry is just like any other college student. He is a senior in Chicago University. He keeps to himself except when he is spending time with his closest friends, Sarah and Mitch. His world revolves around his future career, friends, and family. His quiet and routine driven life takes a turn, one weekend when he meets Y/N Y/L/N. She is way too different from him. She spends most of her days surrounded by people who care for superficial and materialistic things. Her parents are never home, and they think that with money everything can be solved. They are both from different worlds yet something that night clicks and Y/N can never again get him off her mind.

masterlist

[mulledcherrywine]

Oh Baby, Yeah!

summary: You bring yours and Harry’s daughter to the studio and he can’t keep away from her

a/n: part of the Rosie storyline ! I love writing dad!H so lots of heart goes into these 🤭I imagine Rosie being born around HS1 era, then growing up through that, hence the pic above !!

You were laid back on the sofa outside the booth, Mitch and a few other crew members sat around with you as Harry was posted up in the booth. Your eight-month old, Rosie, was closely bundled in your arms, eyes shut softy as Harry cleaned up a few songs he’d been working on.

Adjusting his headphones, he gave a light wave to the both of you, earning a sleeping motion from you to indicate she was barely awake.

“He’s literally obsessed with her” Mitch laughed, looking at Rosie’s little face, “Like, never stops talking about you.”

You blushed thinking about Harry gushing of your daughter while you were away, even though you knew just as well from how he acted at home. He’d wake up early just to make sure she was safe and warm waking up, he’d bounce her around on his hip and sang lightly to her when she’d have a crying fit and he wouldn’t go a single night without making certain she fell asleep feeling loved.

He’d been working really hard lately. Even though his first solo album just recently made its debut, he was already back in the studio working away at other songs. He loved what he did, but sometimes it meant he had to be away from you and Rosie. Seeing as she was still quite new, he often had you both over to the studio.

After finishing off a few minutes of backing vocals, he stepped out of the booth, approaching where you were sat.

“Hi baby,” he said softly to you, reaching his arms out to take Rosie, “and hi, baby.”

He took her tightly in his right arm, holding her close to his person. Rosie’s eyes fluttered softly out of sleep, which normally boded a crying fit if she’d been rudely awoken, but the comfort of her fathers presence made tears far from possible.

“Jesus, he’s never going back in, now” one of the studio techs joked, removing the headset from his ears, “Breaktime, then?”

The studio team grouped up and shuffled out of the room, taking a much needed break from the day inside the crowded booth.

Mitch shuffled out after, giving a nod to you and Harry. You snuck over to him and your baby, brushing the hair back from Harry’s face and looking at his eyes as he looked to Rosie. The green of his eyes was glassy from tears.

“M’so lucky, s’just, like, emotional sometimes” he said, looking to you.

“I know, m’love” you hummed.

“Love her so much, an’ I love you, baby” he left a kiss on your temple, still holding Rosie tight as ever. She mumbled at the light motion of his body moving, causing the both of you to look down at her little green eyes.

“I love us,” you spoke, moving her already beautiful baby hairs atop her head.

“Stop, i’m going to, just, fully have a breakdown, lovie” Harry joked, his eyed widening like he was trying to jokingly stop the tears.

“Just post-baby hormones, m’love”

“Isn’t that just for the mum, though?”

“I think it applies”

[henrysteelsmurryme]

"Our First Time," Bruno Mars * (~7.8k words)

just a random little thing, enjoy xx (also haven't proofread so apologies for any errors)

WARNINGS: smut, I think that's it

: :

“Thank you–oh, it’s a little cold.” She relaxes back on her heels and begins to rub her hands together.

“It’s okay.” Harry giggles. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll get used to it.”

“Are you sure? Just give me a second.”

Harry’s stomach flutters for the umpteenth time tonight at her sweet gesture. His face heats and the warmth travels down his chest and to his groin.

He’s a little overwhelmed with how much he’s…feeling right now. He likes her so much, and he cares about her so much, but he also doesn’t love her just yet. He thinks he could get there, but he also kind of thinks he’s already there, because he’s never felt this way towards anyone before. It has to be love–what he’s feeling–right? What else could it be?

But is it too soon to love her? Harry has no clue; he’s never done any of this before. So, how can he trust his own emotions, when he’s never experienced anything even close to love before?

But watching her sit between his legs, rubbing her palms together to warm the lube for him, just so he isn’t uncomfortable–he can’t imagine anyone else being so accommodating, so thoughtful. It reignites the…the care he has for her, the fondness and adoration.

A small gasp escapes his lips, and he can’t it when his hips buck up into nothing. A pearl of precum dribbles from his slit as he continues to watch her hands. 

“Okay,” she says with a sigh of finality. “It’s warmer.” Then, her eyes flit up to sheepishly look into his. “Sorry.” She laughs a little. “Maybe I should’ve listened to you.”

Harry has to swallow a lump in his throat–really? He’s crying before she even gets her hand around his cock?–and he shakes his head, coughing roughy before speaking. “No, it’s–It’s okay.” He offers a tender smile, and hopes that his eyes aren’t shining too brightly underneath the soft yellow hue of the lamp. “I appreciate it. Are you ready?”

She nods, shuffling closer to him on her knees. She swallows thickly when she dips her head and peers down at his hard length. Her eyes are wide and full of apprehension. Harry just hopes it’s because of nerves, because he’s nervous too. He’s really fucking nervous.

“I’m nervous,” she says with a sheepish laugh, as if she had been reading his thoughts, as if their minds are aligned. “I’ve never…I’ve never done anything like this before. Well–“ she rolls her eyes and waves a hand "–obviously, but.” She avoids his eyes, fixating on his chest with tight features and a rigid posture.

She must look so stupid, she thinks. It’s a handjob, not rocket science. It’s probably really easy, and she’s just overthinking it and making a big deal out of nothing.

It’s just–she’s nervous. She’s never held a penis in her hands, or her mouth, or–she’s never even seen one in real life. She’s never wanted to, is the thing. But, tonight, as she was sitting in Harry’s lap and feeling him harden beneath her, she found herself wanting him to take his pants off. She wanted to see his stiff cock, wanted to feel it in her hand. Would his skin feel smooth? Would it feel hot? She doesn’t know. 

She doesn’t know the first thing about pleasuring someone else, and she really wants Harry to feel good. She wants to make him feel good, she just doesn’t know how, and that makes her nervous.

What if he doesn’t like it? What if he fakes his moans and lies to her? Penises are hard when people are aroused, and soft when they’re not, right? What if he goes soft in her hand right in the middle of her handjob? That would be just about the most humiliating thing to ever happen to her. She would never be able to look Harry in the eye ever again.

And that would be really sad, because she likes Harry. She really likes Harry, more than she’s ever liked anyone else before–and that kind of scares her. Her emotions, and the strength and intensity of them are scaring her.

She thought she was defective, when her friends would talk about the hottest people in her classes, or how much they wanted to fuck the sexy barista at the coffee shop, and she wouldn’t feel the same. How is someone sexy? How can you look at someone and know you want to have sex with them? She had no clue, she couldn’t relate, until she met Harry.

But not even when she met Harry did she immediately feel this…desire to have sex with him. Sure, he’s attractive: she can appreciate an attractive face. But she didn’t understand her friends’ desperate urges to fuck him.

But now, as she sits between his legs, she wants to fuck him. After months of hanging out and getting food and watching movies and studying together, she suddenly feels this intense desire that her friends are always talking about. It came with absolutely no warning, which stunned her. Had she always wanted to fuck him, and has only just now identified the feeling?

But, then again, the more she thinks about it, the more she doesn’t think it just sprung up on her. It started with her simply looking at his hands, studying the veins underneath his skin and just how big his palms and fingers were. She imagined those hands holding her own, resting on her waist and hips. She imagined his fingers gently brushing her hair away from his face, a tender look in his eyes as they gazed into her own.

Then, since it’s so fucking warm out, Harry’s been wearing these shorts that she’s never seen another man look so fucking good in. They’re thin and lightweight and they melt around his thick thighs. And he accidentally–somehow–shrunk an entire load of his laundry, so his shirts he’d been wearing recently were small and tight around his chest and biceps.

She can pinpoint the exact moment he got her all hot and bothered. She’d never been so flustered before, but at the pool party, watching him prance around in those little yellow shorts…She was hot, and she was really fucking bothered. And ever since then, whenever he would be talking to her, she suddenly realized what her friends were talking about with his ‘intense’ look.

The way he’d just stare into her eyes, and she would notice that every once in a while they’d flicker down to her lips. It never got her so flustered before, but she found herself blushing and stuttering underneath his gaze.

Right now, his stare is still intense, but there’s an underlying tenderness and nervousness to them. He may never have realized the effect he has on others, but his own apprehension is softening his ‘intense’ look.

“You sure you want to do this?”

“Oh, yeah.” She nods determinedly, looking down at his length with growing confidence. “I want to, I really want to. Just–guide me through it.”

Harry nods with her, shuffling in his spot. He bends his legs, then stretches them out on either side of her. Then he bends them again, just not as much as before. He plants his palms on the mattress, pushing himself into a more upright position, then he decides to slouch back down.

His fidgeting is halted abruptly by a gentle tone, “Hey,” and an even gentler hand wrapping around his aching cock. 

He sucks in a harsh breath, freezing in his spot. She watches his reaction with wide, amused eyes. She laughs, then asks, “What do you want me to do next?”

“Just–“ he gasps for breath, his hands frantically scrambling up and down the comforter. “Go up and down. And don’t squeeze too tight,” he says in a tight voice. “But not too loose either, you know?” A loose whimper leaves his lips when she experimentally strokes him once.

“Just like this?” she asks softly, repeating her careful motions. She gages his reaction, and she feels her underwear pool when his head falls back, revealing his long, tanned neck. A long moan rises from his throat, and his hips buck up to meet her hand.

“Just like that,” he replies just as softly. “Fuck. But could you just–speed up a little bit?”

She nods her head, biting into the inside of her bottom lip in concentration as she mechanically increases her speed. The lube aids her hand in gliding up and down his cock, and she never knew the wet clicking noises would turn her on so much.

She never knew moans could turn her on so much either, but Harry’s mewls and groans are spurring her on in ways she never thought were possible.

She finds his skin is smooth underneath her fingers, and his cock is hot and it’s throbbing. It’s throbbing and his moans are growing louder. His fidgeting is increasing, and he can’t seem to stop bending and extending his legs and dragging his hands up and down the duvet, fisting and stretching his hands against the sheets.

She asks curiously, “Are you gonna come?”

Harry scrunches his face up, his blushing chest heaving as he shyly nods. A broken hum of confirmation assures her that she’s done just enough to make Harry feel good. Her chest expands with pride, and her hand moves more confidently along his cock. 

Despite the promiscuous question, her tone is genuinely curious, highlighting her innocence. “Does this feel good?” She circles her thumb around the head of his length, watching his reaction carefully.

“Oh, my God,” Harry cries out, rolling his hips into her hand. His head frantically twists from side to side. “Fuck, keep doing that, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.”

The sob that leaves him scares her a bit, and for a moment she wonders if he’s actually crying. She sees a trail of tears down his temples and his face is crumbled in a way she only recognizes as sadness.

But then Harry’s cock twitches in his hand, and she gasps quietly and looks down in time to see streaks of cum bubble from his tip. It dribbles down his cock, seeping between her fingers as she continues to stroke him through his orgasm. Her movements, despite having grown more confident and fluid, move up and down robotically until Harry’s trembling hands pry hers off. 

“Sorry.” She laughs a bit, resting her slick hands on her thighs as she watches Harry catch his breath. Then, just to be a pest, she asks cheekily, “Did you enjoy that?”

Harry lets out a choked laugh, and he shakes his head, his exhaustion clear in his languid movements. “Mhm. That was…fuck.” He wipes at his eye with a single finger. “Thank you, I, uh…” Then he blushes. Who the fuck says thank you after a handjob? “Your turn?”

She smiles widely at him and, despite his obvious embarrassment shown through his rosy cheeks and sheepish eyes, he keeps their gazes locked. She nods. “Yeah. My turn.”

They switch positions, with Harry kneeling between her legs as she lays back on the mattress. When he has his fingers tucked under the waistband of her underwear and is about to start tugging them down her legs, she speaks up. She doesn’t necessarily sound embarrassed or insecure, but if she’s bringing it up to warn Harry, then he concludes it’s probably weighing on her mind. “I–uh. I don’t really…shave, just to warn you.” She lets out a little laugh to cover the fact that she is a little apprehensive about his reaction to her hair.

But his smile is easygoing and reassuring. “Okay. Are you ready?”

She nods, lying back and staring up at the ceiling as Harry slowly pulls her panties down her legs. Then, she thinks she should watch him, right? It’d be boring to just stare at the blank ceiling the entire time. So, she lifts her head–and only her head–and her neck cramps at the odd angle. She goes to sit up all the way, right as Harry begins to press kisses to her stomach, right below her belly button.

“Hey, you okay?” He looks up at her, his lips inches from her stomach. His heavy breaths caress her skin, and she can feel wisps of it brushing over her pussy.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I’m just–I don’t really know what to do with myself.”

“Do you want to see a little bit?” Harry sits back up, reaching around her to grab the pillows. “Here, let me get these situated and…”

All she can do is look at him with, what she thinks is, a loving gaze. Except, it can’t be love, because…it just can’t be. She’s never been in love. So, how would she know what is and isn’t love?

It just seems crazy that she would love Harry after a few short months of knowing each other. But, then again, despite the short amount of time they’ve known each other, they’ve also been seeing each other nearly every day. They’ve grown incredibly close, but she doesn’t think it’s love. It just can’t be.

But watching him arrange the pillows in a way so that she isn’t comfortable–she can’t imagine anyone else being so accommodating, so thoughtful. It reignites the…the fire she feels between her legs.

When Harry finishes the final touches to her makeshift pillow lift, he brings his face right in front of hers. The air shifts between them to something more intense. Sure, they’ve already done something, but what they’re about to do–Harry eating her out–just feels more…intimate than a handjob.

He whispers, “Better?”

She nods. “Can you kiss me?”

Harry answers by pressing his lips to hers, opening his mouth and inviting her tongue inside. He moans as she licks into his mouth, then he pushes her down onto the pillows, kissing her one last time before crawling down her body.

“You’re gonna have to tell me what to do,” he says with a laugh before he kisses her pelvis region. “I’ve no clue what I’m doing.”

“M-kay.” She giggles. “Well, first of all, get down there.” She pushes his head, and they’re both giggling until Harry comes face to face with her glistening cunt, and she can feel his stuttering breaths against herself. Once again, the mood shifts from goofy to intense, and their giggles diminish as Harry patiently waits for her instructions.

“And, uh…” She gasps for breath. Part of her just wants to tell him to have at it, and do what feels right. But Harry literally has no clue what is right and what is wrong. “Uh, here.” She drags her hands down her body and pulls apart her lips to reveal even more of herself to Harry.

She wonders if he felt this exposed when she was stroking him. She wonders if he feels as vulnerable as she does right now. Not even she has been so close to her own vagina as Harry is at this very moment. He’s seeing things she’s never seen before, and for a split second, she prays that everything looks in tip-top shape.

“This is the clit,” she says slowly. She stares straight up at the ceiling, too embarrassed to see Harry’s face or meet his eyes. “It’s…it’s where you should focus most on…because it’s the only part of the human body that is strictly for sexual pleasure. It doesn’t have any other purpose.”

Harry hums to entertain her. He knows what the fuck a clit is; he paid attention in sex education. Still, he thinks it’s nice to have a refresher, because it’s better than him going in too cocky and fucking it all up.

“But, of course, you can…just…” Her finger gestures to her entire cunt. “Go all over, too. Just make sure to focus on my clit.”

“M-kay.” Harry drags his hands up her thighs slowly, feeling her hot skin beneath his palms. He pushes her legs apart even more, reveling in her sharp intake of breath above him.

“Uh…If I, like,” she forces out a laugh, “smell bad or taste bad, you don’t have to do it.”

“Okay,” he breathes out, his mouth watering the longer he stares at her puffy lips, her glistening hole, and her swollen clit. “Are you ready?”

She nods. “Mmhm.”

Harry wraps his arms around the thick of her thighs, and he goes to dive in, but then he pauses. “What should I do first?”

“Um.” She breathes in shakily, and her hips involuntarily roll up to his mouth. His breath is right on her, and it feels like his mouth is right there. She can feel her arousal dripping out of her hole, and she shoves down the whine threatening to crawl up her throat. “Just give me a lick, from–like, from the bottom, to the top. Flatten your tongue and–yeah.”

When Harry does as instructed, licking a flat stripe from her dribbling hole to her swollen clit, a broken, gasped moan escapes from her lips. She arches her back, rolling her hips up to his mouth. Harry does it again, pushing his tongue deeper into her cunt. When he reaches her clit, he wraps his lips around it and gives it a little suck before pulling away.

“Yes, yes!” she cries out. Her hands grab onto his hair, and Harry groans when she gives it a good tug. His cock twitches against the mattress. “That was good, do that again.” Her voice grows more frantic as Harry continues to eat her pussy. He sucks on her clit a little harder, and his eyes roll into the back of his head when she tugs especially hard on his locks.

“Sorry! Sorry.” She loosens her hold and pets his head, making him laugh against her core.

“It’s alright, baby,” he murmurs, his lips grazing her own. “I liked it. You can do it some more…Don’t be scared to pull too hard.” He wonders if she’ll think he’s weird for wanting her to pull hard. Will she judge him for liking the pain?

She cautiously threads her fingers into his hair again, and she experimentally tugs. Harry lets out the smallest noise against her. Then, to be a cheeky pest, she pulls really hard.

“Ow!”

“What, too hard?” She grins down at him.

Harry returns a half-lidded, unimpressed stare. Then he wraps his lips around her clit and sucks hard.

She throws her head back, a noise Harry’s never heard before leaving her mouth. Then, to be a cheeky pest, he doesn’t let up.

“Harry!” Her hands leave his hair and she pushes his face away from her. Harry fights back, giggling as he desperately sticks his tongue out to catch any part of her with the tip of his tongue.

She gasps for breath, her chest heaving. “Fuck you.”

Harry belts out a loud laugh at that. 

She grabs the hair at the top of his head. “Shut up and lick.” She doesn’t realize how rude it is to shove his face into her cunt without asking until she’s already done it. Panic floods her body before its quickly replaced by pleasure when he immediately resumes licking into her, completely unbothered by her aggressive actions. In fact, she thinks he liked it, because he eagerly eats her out. She whimpers and ruts against his mouth, watching with a crumbled expression as he sucks on her clit. “L–Lick it, please, Harry. Put your tongue on it.”

“On your clit?” He lays his tongue flat over the swollen bud.

“Y–Yeah, but–I want–a little firmer, and more frequent. Like, point your tongue a little bit and–” A breathy moan leaves her when Harry laps at her clit with a firmer stroke. Then he puckers his lips around it and sucks before resuming his licking. His tongue paired with his lips sends her into a dizzying haze of pleasure. “Oh, my God, Harry,” she whispers, her face crumbling as her fingers tangle in his hair, locking his head between her legs.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come.” A muffled whine escapes from her, and she arches her back and pulls Harry’s face deeper between her thighs. Her lips part to exhale short, choppy breaths. The pleasure is intensifying slowly in a way that leaves her quivering for the finale. It feels so much different than when she pleasures herself.

She remembers that belly breathing helped intensify an orgasm–something she’d learned from Tik Tok. For someone who wasn’t very interested in having sex with anyone, she sure did stumble onto sextok quite a bit. She’s learned many helpful tips that she was sure she would never use in her life.

So, she evens out her breaths, her stomach rising and falling dramatically. It helps though, because the sparks of pleasure intensify. “Fuck, Harry.” Her mouth falls open and she lets out a loud screech as she orgasms.

Harry panics for a moment, because that noise she made obviously meant she climaxed, right? Plus, she gushed a bit into his mouth and on his chin. But she’s still holding him to her, so does he still need to lick her? When she was stroking him after he came, it kind of hurt, so he had to pull her hands off. Is it hurting her?

He decides to continue licking her and sucking on her clit until she finally pushes him away.

They both lie on the bed, breathing heavily. Slick sweat covers their body, shining underneath the soft glow of the lamp.

“That was–” She closes her eyes and inhaled deeply. Her body is still trembling, and she’s a bit embarrassed by it. Harry wasn’t nearly as flustered as she is after his orgasm. “That was really good, Harry.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Mm-hmm. I don’t–” Can she take another orgasm like that? She’s not sure. It was really intense. Maybe one is enough. They could still have sex; she just wouldn’t need to come.

Harry notices her…exhaustion. “We can stop right here, if you want. We don’t have to go all the way tonight.” The corners of his lips lift up into a smug smirk. “You seem a little…tired already.“

Her face relaxes into a deadpanned look. “No, I still want to have sex,” she decides. Fuck Harry and his newfound cockiness. He doesn’t deserve to feel this smug after his first time. Who knows if he’s even good? She might just have low expectations because she’s never been eaten out before.

Harry presses his lips together to hide his smile, but it still shines through. He crawls over her body until his head is aligned with hers. He leans down and sweetly pecks her nose. Her stomach flutters at the gentle gesture, and her suffocating pride washes away.

She smiles up at him, and he softy beams down at her. 

They don’t say anything for a while. She just looks at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and wide eyes and swollen lips and–the bottom of his face is all wet. Warmth floods her cheeks with the realization that it’s from her. She opens her mouth, no noises coming out.

Hastily, she reaches up and wipes his face with her hand because it must be uncomfortable for him, right? He might think it’s weird and gross and–

And Harry gently holds her wrist before she can pull her hand away, and his eyes stare intently into hers before they focus on her hand. He doesn’t hesitate to lean in and stick his tongue out. The firm muscle strokes her fingers, and her breath hitches at the obscene sight.

She then thinks he could suck on her fingers because he’s going to have to stretch her out before putting his cock inside her. The erotic thought is so arousing that she almost voices it, until she realizes that it needs to be her that’s sucking on his fingers because he’s going to be the one stretching her out.

Right, she needs to calm down a bit. She’s obviously not thinking straight.

But maybe he doesn’t want to stick his fingers up her. She doesn’t know why, because he just had his mouth on her, so why would he be hesitant about his fingers? But, she should ask first, just to be sure.

“I–uh.” Harry then blushes, hard. “I…like the way you taste.”

She feels hot all over. “Really?”

He nods shyly. “I, um. I really enjoyed that.”

She laughs a bit. “Yeah, me too.”

Then his features shift back to that smug little smirk. “Yeah? So I did good?”

She rolls her eyes. “I guess. Anyways, um, I’m gonna have to get stretched out before…”

He nods. “Okay, do I just…?” Then she feels the tips of his fingers on her cunt, moving around a bit to find her hole. 

She sucks in a harsh gasp and squirms when he moves a little too far down. “Right here, right here,” she says quickly, grabbing his hand and positioning his fingers over the right hole.

Harry nods obediently, the tips pushing in just slightly before he hesitates. “You good? You still want to do this?”

She nods, sneaking her hands under his arms and laying her palms flat on his shoulders. She takes a deep breath and braces herself. “I’m sure.”

She arches her back a bit when Harry pushes his fingers in. They slide in smoothly, thanks to her orgasm. She wonders if she’ll feel anything from them, because she doesn’t when she fingers herself.

When Harry experimentally thrusts his fingers into her until it’s smooth and wet, she speaks up. “If you curl your fingers up, you’ll hit the g-spot. Though I’m pretty sure it’s just a myth and it’s actually just–” She’s cut off by her own gasp when Harry curls his fingers just right and she feels something. “Oh, my God.” She gasps again, and her back arches in pleasure rather than discomfort.

She lets out a deep moan, rolling her hips to meet his fingers. “Fuck, Harry.” She wraps her arms around his neck and tucks her head underneath his jaw. “That feels really good.”

“Does it?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Do I just keep curling and uncurling my fingers?”

“You can try thrusting them again, and maybe curl at the end?”

Harry does as instructed, even though she sounds just as clueless as he feels.

She hugs him closer and twists her neck, her lips grazing his jaw as she quietly asks, “Can you, can you speed up a little bit?”

Harry hums, quickening his thrusts. She lets out a long, quiet moan right into his ear. “Scissor them,” she whispers. “Gotta stretch me out for another finger.”

“How many are we gonna go up to?”

She hums thoughtfully. “Three?”

Harry nods, determined. Honestly, this is taking a lot longer than he thought it would. Not that he’s complaining, because he’s really enjoying every second of it–it’s just not what he expected, is all.

It’s when he fits three fingers into her that she shifts uncomfortably. “Um, do we have that lube? It’s getting a little dry.”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’ll get it.” She yelps a bit when he yanks his fingers out in his haste to get her comfortable again. “Sorry! Sorry.” He pets her cunt, and it makes her laugh.

They’re both giggling as Harry rummages through the plastic bag on the ground. He grabs a couple condoms and the lube bottle before he sits back up on the bed.

“Okay,” he says as he squirts some lube–maybe too much–onto the palm of his hand, “do you want me to warm it up a bit?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “it’s okay. But, uh, it’s supposed to go on your fingers, not your palm.”

His mouth opens. “Right.” He wipes his hands on the towel underneath her body.

“You don’t need a lot of lube either.”

“Okay.” He squirts a tiny bit onto his three fingers. “This good?”

“Mm, a little bit more.”

“Good?”

She nods, flashing him a smile. She giggles a little bit. “Yes, that’s good.”

Harry grins back at her, hovering over her body and finding her hole again a little easier. The initial thrust is smooth thanks to the extra lubrication. She sighs with relief at the cold wetness.

“Could you rub my clit a little bit?”

Harry hums, sitting back on his heels and looking down at his hands. His other hand gingerly hovers over her core, his fingers delicately touching her clit. He rubs in slow circles.

“Remember to keep thrusting.”

“Oh, right.” The fingers on her clit slow down a bit as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. Then he quickens his circles on her clit. “I’m not very good at multitasking.”

She barks out a laugh. “You’ll get better at it.”

The discomfort from the stretch of his fingers turned her off a bit, so she wanted to get her body ready again for his cock. But now, as he works both her clit and her supposed g-spot, she can feel another orgasm quickly approaching.

She pushes herself up by her elbows, her hips rolling over and under his hands. “Wait, Harry–” A small gasp escapes her, and she hangs her head back, her hips moving even more.

She lets out a whine when Harry stops. “What?”

“Nevermind, keep going, keep going!” She feels too good to make him stop. Tears brim her eyes, her face scrunching up with pleasure as he quickly resumes his hands. Her mouth falls open, moaning loudly as her second organs quickly washes over her, taking them both by surprise.

Harry’s tone holds surprise, along with a bit of curiosity. “Wow, you’re–you’re clenching around my fingers.”

“Oh, God.” She falls back onto the bed, meaning quietly as Harry continues his movements. She rides out the rest of her orgasm, then she pushes his hands away when it starts to hurt.

Harry watches her as she calms down. This orgasm seemed more intense than the last despite happening much quicker than he anticipated. She looks even more spent. “Are you sure you still want to continue?”

She nods weakly as she heaves for breaths. “Just…give me a minute.”

Harry cheekily grins down at her, crawling over her and hovering over her body. “I’ll give you a couple minutes.”

She’s too tired to even respond. Harry rests some of his weight on her, leaning down and peppering kisses anywhere his lips can reach.

“Okay, I’m ready.” She nods with determination a few minutes later. She tries to ignore the ball of anxiety growing in her stomach.

She hopes it doesn’t hurt too much. And, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be as vulnerable as she is right now, as Harry attempts to get the condom on by himself.

She swallows thickly as she stares at his cock, his clumsy fingers fumbling with the condom. She would offer her help, but she knows it wouldn’t be very useful. Plus, she’s only growing more and more nervous the closer they get to actually having sex.

He has the condom on (after throwing away the first and rolling open a second one). He applies some lube over it, stroking his cock a few times. He lets out a whimper at his own touch, his hips rolling up to meet his hand.

Her eyes widen at that. That’s what he’s going to be doing to her in literally a couple minutes. His strong thighs flex as he lifts his hips. His thick cock disappears under his fingers, and the head peeks out every so often as he bucks into his hand.

His cock just seems…so large. And she’s not sure whether it’s because she’s a virgin and has never seen one before in real life, or if he’s actually just big.

She wasn’t worried about it when she was stroking his length, because she wasn’t thinking about it actually going inside of her.

But Harry’s stretched her out enough, right? He used three fingers, but maybe four wouldn’t hurt?

Panic fills her gut and she quickly reaches down and shoves three fingers into her. Oh, God, she’s already tightening up again. Is she wet enough? She can’t get too wet or else she won’t be able to feel anything, or at least that’s what she’s learning from Tik Tok–

“Hey.” A gentle tone interrupts her racing thoughts, and a gentle–albeit wet–hand lays over her thigh. Harry’s thumb rubs against her skin in a way he hopes is comforting.

She looks up to meet Harry’s soft gaze. 

“Are you okay?”

“Just nervous.” She lets out a small laugh, and then shocks herself when tears spring to her eyes. “Sorry–”

“Hey, don’t be sorry.” He leans over her and makes sure to wipe his hand on the towel beneath her before he cups her cheek. His thumb repeats the comforting motions. “You can back out literally mid-thrust, I don’t care.”

She lets out a more genuine laugh, and he giggles quietly with her.

“Do you want to back out now?”

She looks deep into his eyes and shakes her head. “Just–can you make sure I’m stretched out enough? I feel like I’m tight again.”

“Of course, baby.”

When he inserts his fingers back into her, she realizes she’s overreacting, because it feels the exact same.

“You’re just as loose as before. I think if you get nervous, you’re gonna tighten up. And you’re still plenty wet, unless you want me to add more lube?”

She shakes her head again. “No, I’m good. Just…Are you ready?”

He nods, then he situates himself on top of her, his elbows laying on either side of her head to hold himself up. “Uh, spread your legs for me?”

She does so, and then she completely panics when Harry rests more of his weight on her, and she can feel his length pressed up against her core.

“Hey, hey, hey. You all right?”

Her voice is high-pitched, her tone careful. “Uh huh.”

“Seriously, if you want to stop–”

“I don’t, I don’t. Please.” She grasp his shoulders. “I’m gonna be nervous. Let’s just–” Well, let’s not just get this over with. That’s not very nice to say. And it’s not at all how she feels.

Harry carefully watches her, then he dips down and kisses her deeply. As she gets lost in their kiss, he rolls his hips forward, his cock pushing between her lips.

She gasps, pulling away and squirming underneath him. Panic is clear in her voice. “What–What are you doing?!”

Harry kisses her. “Just gonna…grind against you a bit. I’m not going inside yet.”

She unintentionally lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, okay.” That sounds nice, actually.

And it feels really nice. The head of his cock nudges her clit with every gentle grind of his hips. She moans against his mouth, bending her knees and dragging her foot up his calf. “Fuck, Harry.”

“Does that feel good?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Harry grinds harder against her, and she lets out an even louder moan. All thoughts of panic or terror are completely wiped from her mind. Pleasure consumes her, and the fire in her belly reignites.

His cock feels so good against her. She wonders if it’ll feel just as good–if not better–inside of her. She really wants to find out.

“Harry,” she whimpers against his lips. “I’m ready, please.” She opens her mouth and kisses him deeply, pushing her tongue past his lips. 

Harry hums into the kiss, stroking her tongue with his. “Do you feel better? You’re not as nervous?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m not nervous anymore.” Then it hits her.

They’ve been doing this for nearly an hour already. And in that time, Harry’s come once while she’s gotten off twice. Even then, he came right at the beginning, so the rest of the time has been spent taking care of her.

His cock grew hard relatively quickly after he came, and he’s been hard ever since. That has to be painful, but she never thought about it because Harry never once complained.

He’s been quiet about his discomfort because he doesn’t want to pressure her into moving too quickly. He wants to go at her pace, despite his cock begging for the opposite.

It’s getting increasingly hard for him to muffle his sounds though as he rubs his cock through her folds. He whimpers and whines into her mouth and she’s been swallowing his pretty noises up without even thinking about what they mean.

He’s hurting, and he pushing it aside for her comfort. He’s delaying his relief for as long as it takes to get her to calm down again (and it took quite a while).

God, he really cares about her. And she really cares about him. She loves that he’s so thoughtful, that he’s been so especially thoughtful tonight. It’s one of the things she likes most about him.

His warm hands on her waist help anchor her back to the moment. His fingers softly grasp her skin, his fingers dancing along and leaving goosebumps in their paths. Every single one of his touches has felt so good tonight.

“Sorry,” she laughs. “It’s just–You’re being so sweet, and I can’t imagine this going better with anyone else.”

When Harry grins at her, the skin around his eyes crinkle, and she finds that his eyes are glassy as well, reflecting all of her comfort and gratitude back at her. “Me neither. This is–I’m just really glad it’s you.”

She nods. “Me, too.” Then she leans up and kisses him hot and hard, moaning into his mouth. “C’mon, let’s do it.”

He giggles against her lips. “‘Kay.” Carefully, he reaches down and grasps his length. “This is the right hole, right?“

She laughs out loud, throwing her head back and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yes, it is.”

Harry lets out a sheepish laugh. “Sorry if I bust before you even cum.”

“It’s okay.” A gentle smile stretches her lips. “You can just eat me out again. You were pretty good at that.”

Harry opens his mouth to respond, but he finds no words to say. His face flushes, hard, and a strangled squawk leaves his lips. He dips his head sheepishly into her neck, whining against her skin when she snickers then threads her fingers through his hair at the back of his head. He’s suddenly a little nervous as he starts to push his hips forward.

They both gasp as the tip of his cock dips inside her.

“You okay?”

She nods. “You okay?”

Harry nods. Then he pushes in even more. Her tight walls squeeze around him, pulling a rough moan from his throat.

“Is it–“ His voice is strained as he tries to contain himself. He feels an immense desire to ram his hips forward, to sink into her all the way. “Is it wet enough?”

She nods, her eyes squeezed shut. “Honestly, just do it it all. Like a bandaid.” She hopes he gets the message; her brain is a little foggy at the moment.

“Are–Are you sure?” Once again, he’s reminded of how similarly they think, how their minds almost seem to be aligned. He really swears she can read his mind.

“Yes, please, do it.”

Harry takes one deep breath, then in one smooth motion, he completely slides into her.

They both let out a shout of a moan. And…holy shit.

“Holy shit,” she breathes out, resting her forehead on Harry’s shoulder.

“Holy shit,” Harry gasps. A wrinkle of pleasure crawls up his spine, and he moans loudly into her neck when he presses his hips against hers as closely as possible.

And…fuck, sex feels really good.

She doesn’t feel any pain. Sure, there’s some discomfort from the stretch of his girth, but…underneath that, there’s a thick layer of pleasure that’s currently coursing through her veins. Despite the main event of the night happening between her legs, she feels that spark of ecstasy in her breasts, tingling her nipples. She feels it on the sides of her neck, just underneath her ears. A dizzying wave of heat envelopes her, and she can barely register her mouth moving. “Go, please.”

“Fuck.” Harry reels his hips back and experimentally thrusts forward. “Oh, my God.” He doesn’t know why all his friends complain about using condoms, that they don’t feel a thing. Harry feels everything. Her walls are so snug around him, and when he pulls out, he can feel his cock literally being sucked right back in.

“Harry, go, please,” she begs. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Every snap of his hips brings a new sensation of pleasure neither her nor Harry have ever experienced before. Their skin, glistening with sweat, slaps against each other, and the sound shouldn’t be so hot, but it is, and it’s making her even more wet and it’s spurring Harry on to drive into her even harder.

He groans when her fingers lock onto his hair and pull. She tugs even harder, signaling she wants to look at him. When he brings his head back, she slams her lips onto his, mewling and whining into his mouth. The kiss distracts Harry a bit, her tongue caressing the inside of his mouth draws his attention more to her mouth than his hips.

She giggles into the kiss. “You’re right. You suck at multitasking.”

He giggles with her, then whines, tucking his head back into her neck. “Stop,” he whines, dragging the word out. “M’sorry, you just feel–oh–so fucking good.”

“So do you,” she whispers. She cradles the back of his head, her eyes fluttering shut with pleasure. “You feel so good, Harry.”

The clear bliss in her honest tone makes Harry slow down. She sounds like she’s in another world, somewhere far away. And he wants to go there with her. He wants to feel the rapture that’s consuming her. He wants his toes curling and his body trembling.

So, he slows down, and tries not to get too lost in the pleasure. He wants to stay in the moment, reveling in every single second he’s inside her. He never wants to forget this feeling of euphoria.

For just a moment, he forgets about her. He realizes then how men can be so selfish during sex. When it feels this amazing, it can be easy to forget that you’re literally partaking in this act with another person. A drop of guilt dampens his pleasure. He can’t forget about her, not when she’s the reason he’s feeling this good. Not when she’s the only reason he wants to do this.

“Baby…” He lifts his head and smushes his face against her cheek, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her skin over and over again. His brain is so hazy that he finds himself struggling to think of much else besides the pleasure coursing through his cock. He moves down to her neck, and really begins to suck her skin into his mouth. He nibbles on a particular spot, then lays his tongue over it in hopes of soothing the pain.

“Oh, my god, Harry.” She arches her back into him and sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck…” Then she grabs his hand, and guides it to her breast. “Please.” Her fingers squeeze around his, making him pinch her nipple. Harry quickly catches on, and he twists and pulls on her hardened bud before deeply massaging her breast.

His lips travel to the center of her neck, his tongue licks up her chin, and his mouth meets hers in a steamy kiss. His other hand slides under her neck, then moves to the back of her head where he fists her hair and turns her head. She whines at the slight pull on her hair, realizing how good it felt. She wants him to pull harder.

He was guiding her face away from him to kiss on her other cheek, so when she tries to reconnect their lips, he tightens his grip on her hair and pulls harder, forcing her to peer over his shoulder as his lips travel across her cheek.

She cries out, “Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes!” She gasps for breath as she lifts her hips up to meet his thrusts. Her hands smooth up and down his back, and when he thrusts into her again, it feels different, and it feels really fucking good. She grabs at him, trying to anchor herself as he continues to deliver her all the pleasure. Her nails dig into his skin, but neither of them notice.

Harry suddenly announces, “Oh, my God, I’m gonna come!”

“Please, Harry–I need–My clit–”

Harry’s hand fumbles between their bodies as it travels down to her pussy. His fingers messily rub against her, and she doesn’t really think he’s too concerned with finding the exact location of her clit, because the four fingers he’s using aren’t necessarily focusing right on the bud, more so just the area he thinks it’s at. But, he is hitting the right spot, and her clit is so swollen and stimulated that it doesn’t take much to send mind-boggling sparks of pleasure up her spine.

Harry orgasms first, and the moans he’s letting out directly into her ear is what finally sends her over the edge.

He collapses on top of her, and she welcomes the weight with open arms, even if they’re both sticky with sweat and cum. Her ears are ringing a bit, and she thinks if she were to stand up right now, she’d see stars and pass out. Is that when you know you’ve had good sex?

Her muscles tremble, and she can feel Harry’s own body quivering above her. Yeah, that was great sex.

Her tone is slightly incredulous and very blunt. “Oh, my fucking God.”

Harry wheezes out a laugh into her neck. “Jesus Christ.”

“I kinda feel like crying.”

Harry pulls away from her neck, his own eyes glistening and a sappy smile on his face. “Me, too!”

They both giggle, then Harry moves to pull out. Then they both groan.

“I’m just gonna–“ he dives right back into her, laying on her and kissing her neck sweetly “–lay here for a bit more. I know I’m supposed to get the towel and clean you up and whatnot, but I can’t feel my legs right now.”

She giggles, running her fingers through his hair and gently combing through the tangles. He purrs into her skin. “And whatnot? What, you finally fuck me and you suddenly drop the romance?”

“Never,” he mumbles into her jaw, kissing her skin over and over. “Never, never, never, I–“ I like you too much. “…I like you too much.” They’ve literally just had sex with each other for the first time ever; Harry doesn’t think she’s going to get scared away by him expressing his likeness for her.

A giddy smile stretches her lips. She turns her head and kisses him over and over. “I like you, too. A lot.” Like, a lot a lot. “Like, a lot a lot.”There’s no point in holding back now; they just gave themselves to each other in one of the most intimate and vulnerable ways she can think of.

“I can’t wait to do that again.”

She barks out a laugh. “You’re literally still shaking!”

[unabashegirl]

Meeting her || H.S

Author's note: The following piece is based on The Golden Boy one short from earlier in the year. This story will be how Harry and Y/N met. This took place before the World Cup . This is going to be a three-part story! This is part one. I hope you enjoy! The next part will have smut. Let me know what you think

PS: these IA pictures are getting out of hand.

masterlist

word count: 5.1K

As the autumn leaves danced in the crisp Manchester breeze, Y/N found herself lost in the beauty of this new city. Having recently moved here, her life felt like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with new experiences and adventures. One such adventure awaited her on a chilly evening, as her friend Emma invited her to dinner with her new boyfriend, Harry.

They first met in college during their second year. Y/N got invited to her first party but didn't know anyone. Everything turned around when Emma bumped into her in the kitchen. As the years went by, their friendship got stronger. But when Y/N switched her major to art, things took a turn. Emma didn't like the decision and started keeping her distance.

Y/N came back to Manchester after spending nearly a year in Italy. During her time there, she learned a new way to paint and work with ceramics. Even though her family was closer, she felt a bit out of place, like a foreigner, in her own native country.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Y/N's phone buzzed with a message notification and a follow request on Instagram from Emma. Curiosity piqued; Y/N opened the app to find a warm greeting from her old friend. Emma had just learned that Y/N was back in town and was eager to reconnect and catch up on all the happenings since their last meeting. Ever since, they've been regularly meeting up for lunch dates, dinners, and various events.

Emma had been excitedly telling Y/N about Harry for weeks, and tonight was the night she was going to meet him. She kept going on about how he was a professional football player, having just joined Manchester United, and how his salary was sky-high, potentially making him extremely wealthy. Emma was evidently proud of this and made sure to let Y/N know, almost bragging about it.

They met at a cozy, dimly lit restaurant, where the aroma of delicious food filled the air. Emma was beaming with excitement, introducing Y/N to Harry as he greeted them with a warm smile. He was handsome, with kind eyes that seemed to reflect his genuine personality.

"Y/N, this is Harry," Emma said enthusiastically.

"Nice to meet you, Harry," Y/N replied with a friendly smile, extending her hand for a handshake.

"The pleasure's mine," he responded politely. "I've heard that you're an artist."

Y/N nodded shyly, "Yeah, mostly into paintings and ceramics."

“Anything that we might have seen?”

"Nothing. She's just a beginner, honey," Emma interrupted before Y/N could respond. "She just returned from Italy from picking up a new skill, hoping it might help her sell and turn a profit. You know how it is in the art world – always searching for that breakthrough.”

Y/N felt a momentary offense, a twinge of embarrassment sweeping over her. Not everything Emma had said was entirely accurate. While it was true that everyone aspired to a breakthrough, Y/N had already experienced one, prompting her journey to Italy. Having been invited there, she returned to Manchester with a renewed focus on opening her first gallery. Whispers of her name began circulating in the corners of the art world.

"Fortunately, Harry has already had his breakthrough," Emma added before taking a sip of her martini.

Emma's chatter mostly revolved around Harry's career, the glamorous lifestyle associated with professional football, and the immense potential for wealth. While Harry remained modest and humble about his achievements, Y/N could sense a hint of discomfort in his eyes.

Y/N was someone who valued depth in conversation, she yearned for more than just the superficial. Emma's constant emphasis on Harry's financial prospects was getting on her nerves, but she held her tongue, not wanting to jeopardize her friendship. It was rare for her to have friends, and she didn't want to ruin this budding friendship.

Throughout the evening, she observed Harry, realizing that he was a genuinely kind and down-to-earth person. He seemed uncomfortable with the focus on his financial success, preferring to discuss other aspects of life. Their conversation flowed naturally when they discussed their interests, hobbies, and favorite books.

As the night progressed, Y/N found herself connecting with Harry on a deeper level, appreciating his humility and kindness. Despite the initial annoyance caused by Emma's bragging, she discovered a potential friend in Harry—one who valued genuine connections over monetary gains.

"So, how was Italy? Is it everything that people say?" Harry inquired, his curiosity evident. Having not yet ventured outside the country, most of his experiences were rooted in local settings, particularly in the realm of his games. Eager to hear about Y/N's international adventure, he leaned in, genuinely interested in the tales she might share about the enchanting country he had yet to explore himself.

Y/N smiled, taking a sip of her drink before launching into her narrative. “It is everything and more. The art, the history, the landscapes – it's like a dream. I ended up indulging in the most amazing pasta dishes. And the art is in every corner.”

Harry's eyes widened with interest, "Really? What kind of art did you see?"

Y/N's enthusiasm bubbled as she shared, "Everything from Renaissance masterpieces to contemporary street art”.

As the evening came to a close, she felt a sense of contentment. She had made a new friend in Harry, someone who shared her appreciation for genuine conversations and meaningful connections. Little did she know, this chance encounter would mark the beginning of a beautiful friendship that would enrich her life in more ways than she could have imagined.

Throughout the week, Emma continued to invite her to various events, eager to integrate her into her social circle. One evening, she invited Y/N to attend a football game where Harry would be playing. Y/N was genuinely excited about the prospect of watching a live game and supporting Harry, but Emma's comment about dressing up and putting on makeup stung.

"You should definitely come to the game! It's going to be so much fun. Dress up a bit and maybe put on some makeup—you never know, you might catch someone of Harry's caliber," she said with a wink, attempting to make it sound like a lighthearted joke.

Y/N forced a smile, masking the hurt she felt. It was clear Emma was implying that Harry was out of her league or that she needed to "improve" her appearance to even be in the same league as her or him. She wasn't confrontational by nature, so she simply replied, "Thanks for the invite, Emma. I'll see if I can make it."

As the day of the game approached, Y/N debated whether to attend. The comment had left a lingering discomfort, making her question if she should subject herself to such superficial judgments. But her curiosity to watch the game and support Harry won in the end.

On the day of the game, she wore a casual yet presentable outfit, wanting to feel comfortable and confident in her own skin. She met Emma at the stadium, where she greeted her with excitement.

“I'm so glad you made it! This is going to be amazing," she exclaimed.

“Yeah, I'm looking forward to it," Y/N replied, attempting to infuse her response with enthusiasm, though beneath the surface, nerves churned. Anticipation mingled with apprehension as she contemplated the upcoming interaction. Y/N couldn't shake the memory of previous encounters, where backhanded comments and thinly veiled compliments had become a common thread.

As they took their seats, the atmosphere in the stadium was electric. The crowd's energy was infectious, and she found herself caught up in the excitement of the game. Watching Harry play was impressive—his skill and passion for the sport were evident.

Amidst the cheers and celebrations, Emma leaned over and said, "Isn't he amazing on the field? Imagine being with someone like him."

Her words struck a chord, reminding Y/N of the shallow perspective she seemed to have about relationships. She chose to focus on the game and cheer for Harry, pushing aside the hurt she felt. Deep down, she knew she deserved genuine connections and friendships that weren't based on appearance or someone's profession.

As the game ended and they made their way out of the stadium, she appreciated the experience and the opportunity to support Harry. However, she also realized the importance of surrounding herself with people who valued her for who she was, rather than making her feel inadequate or lesser than because of societal standards or external perceptions.

She continued to focus on her art, pouring her heart and soul into the canvas as she prepared for her upcoming art show. Emma's persistent invitations and comments had left a mark, and she found solace in the therapeutic strokes of her paintbrush. To protect her mental health and maintain her sense of self-worth, she began gently declining Emma's invitations and started distancing herself from her.

One afternoon, while heading to the art supply store, she unexpectedly crossed paths with none other than Harry. Her hair was up in a messy bun, glasses perched on her nose, and she was wearing baggy clothes slightly adorned with paint stains. She greeted him with a warm smile, surprised yet pleased to see him.

"Harry! Fancy running into you here," she said, a genuine smile lighting up her face.

"Hey! How have you been?" he responded, his friendly demeanor putting her at ease. Sporting athletic attire, he appeared in the midst of post-run casualness, on his way back to his apartment.

"I've been busy with work, preparing for an art show. It's been quite hectic," she explained.

"That sounds amazing! An art show? I'd love to see your work," Harry exclaimed, genuinely interested.

"Sure! You and Emma are more than welcome to come. It's on Saturday evening," she extended the invitation, acknowledging his enthusiasm. Including Emma felt like the courteous thing to do, although she harbored no intention of having her presence at the event.

"Where are you off to?" Harry inquired, his eyes drawn to her appearance and the sizable tote bag slung over her shoulder. He found the sight rather adorable. Harry admired her confidence and the unique way she expressed herself. While he hadn't seen her art yet, he was convinced that if it reflected even a fraction of her personality, it would undoubtedly be incredible.

Curiosity sparked in his eyes as he awaited her response, eager to understand the purpose behind the tote bag and the destination that had captured her attention on this particular day. The genuine interest he took in her pursuits was evident, a testament to the budding connection between them.

"I'm headed to the supply store. Ran out of a few things in the middle of a painting session," she explained, a hint of frustration in her voice. Having to cut her creative session short was always a predicament, leaving her feeling somewhat scattered. "That's why I look like such a mess," Y/N felt compelled to clarify, a touch of self-consciousness in her admission.

"Mind if I tag along?" Harry inquired, his reluctance to head to his apartment evident. The idea of being alone didn't appeal to him, and his living space still carried the lingering feeling of belonging to someone else.

"No problem. I just hope it won't be too boring for you," she said, a sudden nervousness creeping in. It felt akin to introducing a boyfriend to her parents, as he was about to witness a small yet intimate aspect of her life—her painting ritual. Despite the nerves, a giddy excitement bubbled within her. Rarely had someone shown enough interest in her work to accompany her in such moments.

As they strolled, they exchanged stories about their lives—his experiences with football, her passion for art, and the challenges and joys they both faced. Harry shared the excitement and pressure of being a professional athlete, and she talked about the joys and struggles of being an artist.

And Harry asked with genuine concern, "I noticed you've been a bit distant lately. Is everything okay?"

She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to share her feelings. But seeing his kind and understanding demeanor, she decided to be honest. "To be honest, Emma's comments have been bothering me. It felt like she was implying that I'm not good enough” Y/N shook her head, attempting to banish the same thoughts that had haunted her for years. "Or maybe I just misinterpreted her words," she mused, a flicker of uncertainty lingering in her mind.

Harry's eyes softened, understanding the weight of her words. "I'm so sorry you felt that way. Emma can be a bit... oblivious at times.”

His words warmed her heart, reassuring her that true friendships were built on understanding and mutual respect.

"We're here," Y/N announced, swinging open the door of a small but charming store. "Hi, George!" she greeted, waving enthusiastically to the elderly man stationed behind the counter at the back.

"Ms. Y/L/N! Good to see you! How's that collection coming along?" George, a familiar face and one of her most significant suppliers, recognized her immediately. He had even gone the extra mile to order specific brushes and paints for her, a testament to his belief in her talent.

"Oh, it's going!" Y/N chuckled, making her way to the paint aisle. "This is my friend Harry, George." Harry beamed, waving like an excited child being introduced to a stranger.

"Mr. Styles! Number nine in Manchester, right?" George exclaimed, recognizing him. "Great season you're having! It's good to have you."

"Thank you," Harry responded shyly, still adjusting to being recognized and receiving compliments from strangers.

"You're not going to swap me for Harry, are you, George?" Y/N teased as she bent down to reach for spatulas and sponges on the bottom shelf.

"Never. Still my favorite," George assured, prompting chuckles from both Harry and Y/N as they continued their joint venture, collecting items from Y/N's list and heading towards the checkout.

As Y/N gathered her art supplies, Harry couldn't help but admire the quaint charm of the store. It was filled with the rich scent of pigments and the subtle aroma of wooden easels. The artistic ambiance enveloped them as George continued to chat with Harry, discussing his recent successes in Manchester.

As they bid farewell to George, the doorbell chimed, marking the end of their visit. Stepping back into the bustling street, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the support she received, not only from her favorite art supplier but also from Harry, who had ventured into her world with genuine interest and a bright smile.

"That was wonderful. Thank you for taking me," Harry commented warmly, carrying Y/N's tote bag through the lively streets. The cityscape buzzed around them, a backdrop to the shared experience they had just enjoyed.

Y/N smiled in response, her eyes reflecting gratitude. "Thank you for coming. It means a lot," she admitted, a subtle vulnerability in her tone. "No one has ever accompanied me to these sorts of things."

Harry's smile broadened, understanding the significance of those words. The weight of being the first to share in a part of Y/N's world tugged at his heartstrings. As they walked side by side, the city lights flickering overhead, an unspoken connection blossomed between them.

They found themselves enveloped in a comfortable silence, the echoes of their shared laughter still resonating in the air. The streets, alive with the rhythm of urban life, seemed to dance to an unspoken melody that mirrored the newfound understanding between Harry and Y/N.

Harry accompanied her all the way to her apartment, insisting on ensuring her safe arrival.

"I'll see you at the art show," Y/N said, her voice carrying a mixture of anticipation and gratitude. She gave him a quick but warm hug before disappearing into the foyer of the building. The promise of their reunion at the upcoming art show lingered in the air, a shared moment they both looked forward to. As Y/N disappeared from view, Harry couldn't shake the feeling of contentment. The day had been filled with meaningful conversations, different from his usual exchanges with his girlfriend.

On the night of the art show, the venue was buzzing with people who had gathered to appreciate and celebrate art. The atmosphere was vibrant, filled with an array of colors, emotions, and creativity. She was both excited and nervous, eager to share her work with others.

Not only were her paintings displayed on the wall, but her ceramics pieces adorned the space as well.

As the evening progressed, Y/N noticed Harry and Emma arriving, accompanied by a couple of Harry's friends. She greeted them warmly, hoping for a pleasant evening. However, it didn't take long for the mood to sour.

Emma's disapproving looks and hostile demeanor became evident as she roamed around the exhibition. Her discomfort seemed to intensify with each piece she viewed, as if she couldn't bear to see Y/N in the spotlight.

"What am I even looking at?" Emma whispered to Harry as they stood amidst a sizable crowd gathered around one of Y/N's largest paintings. "And why is everyone gawking? It's not a big deal; everyone can do it." Harry stayed silent; his attention fully absorbed by the intricate details of the artwork.

"Stop it," Harry gently pulled her hand, attempting to hush her down. "You're being rude." However, he couldn't deny that Y/N's creation was something truly unique. The canvas held an amalgamation of colors and emotions that seemed to dance and intertwine, capturing the essence of her artistic vision.

As the crowd marveled at the masterpiece, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for Y/N. Her work, a reflection of her passion and creativity, had garnered the attention and admiration of those present. He admired the way she fearlessly poured herself into her art, creating something that not only spoke to him but resonated with a broader audience.

Despite Emma's dismissive comments, Harry recognized the significance of Y/N's talent. He hoped that, with time, Emma might come to appreciate the artistry that captured the attention and imagination of so many.

“Let’s go. Why are we even here?” Emma turned to Harry and his friends, “She is not even that close of a friend. She is just a struggling artist”.

Unbeknownst to Emma, Y/N stood silently behind her, absorbing every single word that had slipped from Emma's lips. The gallery buzzed with the murmur of impressed onlookers, blissfully unaware that the subject of their discussion was right there, an invisible presence in the sea of admirers.

Y/N's heart sank at Emma's dismissive comments, her vulnerability exposed to the unintended audience. The weight of those words settled on her shoulders, adding a layer of discomfort to the pride she felt for her creations. Yet, she chose to linger in the shadows, absorbing the unfiltered opinions that echoed in the gallery space.

“Emma, that’s enough” Harry interjected, his voice carrying a mix of anger and concern.

As Emma turned around, her gaze met Y/N's, and the air grew thick with an unspoken tension. Y/N, having overheard every word of Emma's critique, stood there, a silent witness to the candid commentary. The sudden realization that Y/N had been present all along cast a veil of nervousness over Emma.

Caught off guard, Emma's eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. The vibrant atmosphere of the gallery seemed to dim momentarily; the weight of the words exchanged lingering in the space between them.

Ignoring him, Emma cleared her throat, her voice sharp and accusatory, "You've been avoiding me, Y/N. I don't appreciate being treated this way, especially after everything I've done for you." Caught in the discomfort of the moment, Emma felt the need to assign blame. Admitting fault was inconceivable, especially in front of Harry and his friends; maintaining a positive image was paramount. Emma couldn't afford to be perceived as a negative force, and so, the instinct to shift responsibility to another party took hold. The desire to preserve her reputation and uphold a facade of positivity outweighed the need for genuine self-reflection.

Y/N tried to maintain her composure, choosing her words carefully. "I've been busy preparing for this show and focusing on my art. I never meant to make you feel ignored."

Emma's face twisted into a bitter expression, and she snapped, "You think you're so special with your art, don't you? No one cares, Y/N. I stopped talking to you in college because of these same reasons. You need to realize that you made a mistake by changing majors. Art is not going to feed you.”

The threat stung, hitting close to home. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and collected despite the rising humiliation. "Let's discuss this later, privately."

She was relentless, determined to exert her dominance. "No, we'll discuss it now. Harry, tell her she's out of line."

Harry, torn between loyalty and what was right, looked conflicted. "Emma, maybe now's not the best time—"

Emma cut him off, her voice venomous, "Oh, so now you're siding with her? Fine, have it your way."

She stormed off, leaving Harry visibly troubled and Y/N mortified in front of his friends and other attendees. She wished the ground would swallow her whole, but she reminded herself that she had done nothing wrong.

Harry approached her, his eyes filled with apology. "I'm so sorry. She was completely out of line."

She forced a small smile, trying to brush it off. "It's alright, Harry. Let's not let this ruin the evening."

Deep down, she knew she deserved better than Emma's toxic behavior. As the night unfolded, she chose to focus on the genuine appreciation she received for her art, determined to rise above the negativity and continue pursuing her passion and genuine friendships.

After the tumultuous confrontation with Emma, the art show continued, and she tried her best to immerse herself in the joy of sharing her work with appreciative art lovers. The support and admiration she received from the attendees helped ease the sting of Emma's outburst, allowing her to refocus on the success of the evening.

As the night came to a close, she couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Several of her pieces had been sold, and the positive feedback had boosted her confidence as an artist. She was both proud and grateful for the experience.

As she started to wrap things up and close the gallery, she noticed Harry waiting outside. His presence was a comforting sight after the rollercoaster of emotions she had endured throughout the evening.

"Hey," she greeted, trying to offer a genuine smile despite the lingering discomfort.

"Hey, congratulations on a successful show," Harry said warmly, genuinely pleased for her.

"Thank you. It means a lot," she replied, feeling a sense of relief knowing that the worst was behind her.

"Look, Y/N, I'm really sorry about Emma's behavior. That was completely uncalled for," Harry apologized again, sincerity in his eyes.

She appreciated his concern and understanding. "Thank you, Harry. I know you tried to intervene, and I appreciate that."

Harry nodded, and then a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. How about we grab a bite to eat?"

A pang of hunger reminded her that she had skipped dinner in the whirlwind of the art show. "That sounds perfect. Let's go."

They found a nearby café and sat down, the atmosphere much more relaxed and pleasant than earlier in the evening.

Harry's presence was a balm to her earlier distress, and she was grateful for his kindness and understanding. Despite the events of the night, she felt a genuine connection with him, appreciating the way he had handled the situation and his willingness to stand by her.

As the night came to a close, and she bid Harry farewell, a mix of emotions swirled within her. There was a flutter in her heart, an undeniable attraction that had grown stronger throughout the evening. She had started to like Harry more than just a friend, and it made her nervous.

Y/N knew the reality of the situation. Harry was Emma's boyfriend, and pursuing anything beyond friendship with him would be a betrayal of their relationship. Loyalty and respect were paramount, and she wouldn't compromise those values for her own desires. She couldn't deny the chemistry and connection she felt, but she also understood the importance of boundaries and staying true to her principles. It was a delicate balance between her burgeoning feelings and her commitment to doing what was right.

In the following days, she wrestled with her emotions, trying to put distance between her heart and the potential complications that could arise. She focused on her art, pouring her feelings into her creations, finding solace in the brushstrokes that paint her emotions on the canvas.

That was until one day when she found herself at home, and the intercom unexpectedly rang.

"Ms. Y/L/N, there's a Harry Styles wanting to see you," the voice on the other end announced. Shock rippled through her; it had been a few weeks since she had last seen him. Y/N had purposely kept her distance, fully aware of the feelings that had developed within her.

"Yeah, let him in," she replied, a mix of anticipation and nervousness lingering in her voice. As she unlocked the door, she settled back into her painting, attempting to distract herself from the whirlwind of emotions.

The front door creaked open, and soon, a soft knock echoed through the space. "Y/N?" Harry's rough voice called out, filling the room with a mixture of familiarity and uncertainty.

"In here," Harry heard from the foyer, prompting him to close the front door behind him. He followed the sound of her voice, traversing through the space until he finally located her. There she was, sitting on the wooden floor with legs crossed, her hair fashioned into a bun, and wearing glasses that complemented. her.

Harry cradled a warm brown paper bag, emanating the aromatic allure of Chinese cuisine. He knew of this particular restaurant that served delectable dishes, a tantalizing choice for his unhealthy food cravings. Eager to share this delightful find with Y/N, he approached her with a welcoming smile, lifting the bag in presentation.

"I brought some food," he announced, the tantalizing aroma wafting from the bag.

Curiosity sparked in Y/N's eyes as she inquired, "What is it?"

"Chinese," Harry nervously replied, hoping that his culinary choice would meet her approval.

"Good choice," Y/N commended, setting aside her brush and rising from the floor. It was at that moment that Harry couldn't help but notice her attire – a pair of overalls, worn with an easy casualness. However, the revelation didn't stop there; the absence of anything beneath the overalls exposed the side of her breast, a subtle detail that heightened the air of intimacy in the room. The vulnerability of the moment lingered, as did the tempting aroma of the Chinese delicacies. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah” he cleared his voice, “just hungry” Harry didn’t know if he meant for the meal or fo the sudden urge that he had to feel her breast. He recognized that Y/N had distanced herself, a mirror to the sentiments he harbored toward her. The desire to be close to her lingered within Harry, fueled by a genuine fondness. He admired her, not just for her presence but for the profound connection that blossomed in their conversations.

Harry appreciated the way she listened, her attention genuine and unwavering. In those moments, he felt more than heard; he felt understood on a level that transcended the superficial. Y/N held the key to unraveling his thoughts and emotions, creating a unique bond built on mutual understanding and genuine connection.

"How have you been?" Y/N inquired, taking the lead as she guided Harry towards the living room. The air was charged with a mix of anticipation and a hint of vulnerability. "I saw your match last week. You played really well."

Harry's response held a touch of concern, reflecting the echoes of unanswered messages that lingered between them. "I haven't heard from you since your art show. I thought you were mad at me," he confessed, revealing the worry that had gnawed at him.

"I just thought it would be best to gain some distance between us," Y/N explained, her movements deliberate as she set plates on the coffee table. The unspoken complexities of their connection hung in the air, entwined with a hint of secrecy. "I-I am sure that Emma wouldn't like to know that we are spending this much time together."

As soon as the word 'distance' left her lips, a palpable tension surged through Harry. Panic set in, triggering a rapid response. He hastily placed the bag down, reaching out for Y/N. In a swift motion, he grasped her wrist, pulling her towards him with a sense of urgency.

"Harry," Y/N cautioned, her hand pressed against his chest, attempting to maintain a boundary. Yet, defiance glinted in his eyes as he refused to relent. He freed her wrist, wrapping an arm around her waist while the other found its place behind her head, gently pushing her closer.

"No," he declared, the word hanging in the charged atmosphere. His lips met hers with a hunger that spoke volumes, a fusion of longing and passion. Initially resisting, Y/N succumbed to the intensity of the moment, reciprocating the kiss with an equal fervor. The living room became a stage for a silent exchange, where unspoken emotions and lingering desires found expression in the fervent embrace of their lips.

“Yeah, that’s exactly how I’d imagined it”

QUESTIONS OF CHAPTER (answer below) Do you condone Harry and Y/N’s actions? Do think Emma deserves get cheated on?

[unabashegirl]

Vicious 8 — HS x mafia

Summary: Harry Styles, the cold and calculating son of a powerful mafia don, must consolidate power after his father's passing. He faces challenges from his unpredictable younger brother, Silas, and navigates a complex world of alliances, ruthless decisions, and family loyalty. Amidst the intrigue, the elegant and alluring Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, attends the funeral and finds herself drawn to Harry.

check out my patreon and get access to seven more chapters of this ongoing series and 170 more pieces of work. :) free trial is currently available! Its only $3 USD! (thank you for all the support beforehand)

word count: 2.2K

warnings: violence, and cursing

— masterlist of all the chapters —

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a long and arduous day of meetings and negotiations, Harry finally found himself back in his office, the weight of responsibility gradually lifting from his shoulders as he settled into his chair. With a sigh of relief, he reached into a drawer and retrieved Y/N's phone, the device that had been in his possession since the day of her ill-fated escape.

The phone had proven to be a formidable puzzle, its encrypted contents resisting all attempts to unravel its secrets. Yet, despite the challenges, Harry's determination remained unshaken. He was determined to uncover the truth behind Y/N's actions, to understand why she had fled and who, if anyone, had aided her in her escape.

As he gazed down at the device, Harry's mind churned with speculation. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Federico, Y/N's father, played a role in keeping her phone heavily guarded. The man was shrewd and cunning, capable of orchestrating such a scheme to further his own agenda.

With a resolute expression, Harry set the phone down on his desk, his mind already calculating the next steps in his investigation. He knew that cracking the phone would take time, but he was willing to wait. The truth would reveal itself in due course, and when it did, he would be ready to act.

After retrieving Y/N's phone from his office, Harry's footsteps echoed through the corridors of the estate as he made his way towards her bedroom. The phone weighed heavy in his hand, a silent reminder of the power he held over her, and the potential leverage it offered.

Approaching her door, Harry found himself face to face with two of his men stationed outside, their expressions alert and wary. Without a word, he nodded to them, a silent command to step aside, and they obeyed, allowing him entry.

Pushing open the door, Harry's eyes swept over the room, expecting to find Y/N within, perhaps reading or resting. Yet, to his surprise, the room was empty, the bed neatly made and devoid of any signs of occupancy.

Frowning, Harry's gaze landed on the phone in his hand, a sudden suspicion gnawing at the edges of his mind.

With a sense of unease settling in his chest, Harry threw her phone on the ground and with a single stump crushed the phone. His blood boiled. He couldn’t believe that she had done it again. He turned to address his men. "Search the grounds," he commanded tersely, his voice edged with a hint of frustration. "Find her. Now.”

Chaos erupted across the grounds of Harry's estate as his men mobilized, scouring every inch of the property in search of Y/N. They moved with urgency, their footsteps echoing through the corridors and gardens as they called out her name, their voices mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant bark of dogs.

Meanwhile, Harry stood outside in the backyard, his jaw clenched with barely contained frustration as he surveyed the woods beyond. His gaze flickered towards the treeline, a silent challenge to the wilderness that dared to shelter his elusive captive.

The urge to unleash his dogs gnawed at him, a primal instinct demanding retribution for the breach of his domain. Yet, a nagging suspicion held him back. Y/N hadn't slipped through the window like a common intruder. No, someone within his own ranks had facilitated her escape, a betrayal that stung far deeper than any physical wound.

As his men continued their frenzied search, Harry's mind whirled with questions and calculations. Who had aided her? And more importantly, why? The answers eluded him, hidden behind a veil of deception that threatened to unravel everything he had built.

With a grim determination, Harry resolved to uncover the truth, no matter the cost. For in the game of power and control, betrayal was the deadliest weapon of all.

“Gather everyone” Harry said to Lex.

As Harry's command rang out across the estate, Lex wasted no time in rallying the men. They gathered outside the imposing facade of the mansion, a formidable force ready to execute their leader's orders.

Charlie, however, stood among them with a gnawing sense of unease twisting in his gut. He cast furtive glances at the others, unable to shake the creeping tendrils of fear that coiled within him. He hadn't been involved in Y/N's escape, of that he was certain, but the weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders.

The realization gnawed at him like a relentless beast, tearing at his composure with relentless fervor. How had she managed to slip away under his watch? What had driven her to risk everything for freedom? These questions echoed in his mind, taunting him with their elusive answers.

Despite his fear, Charlie couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for Y/N. He knew what it was like to be trapped, suffocated by the suffocating grip of circumstance.

"I want to know how she slipped past you both," Harry said icily, his gaze piercing as he gestured towards the two men tasked with preventing her escape, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. The urgency of finding her pulsed beneath his skin, but retribution took precedence.

Both men turned to look at each other, a shared unease passing between them like a silent current.

"No answer?" Harry's chuckle held a dangerous edge, his patience wearing thin with each passing moment. "What happened?" His tone was terse, demanding an explanation.

"Boss, we just stepped away for a moment to grab a snack. No one came by," Jack replied, his voice tinged with apprehension. Charlie closed his eyes briefly, bracing himself for Harry's reaction.

"Who said you could leave your post?" Harry's voice rose with anger. "Wasn't I clear about staying by the door at all times?" He erupted; frustration evident in every word. "you fuckin idiots!"

Archie and Jack exchanged uneasy glances, feeling the weight of Harry's disappointment bearing down on them. They knew they had made a grave mistake by abandoning their posts, even if it was just for a few moments.

"We're sorry, Boss," Archie stammered, his voice shaky with regret. "It won't happen again.”

"You're damn right it won't happen again," Harry growled, his tone cold and unforgiving. In one swift motion, he raised his gun and fired a single shot at each of them. Charlie's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the lifeless bodies before him, the weight of Harry's wrath settling heavy in the air.

"When I give an order, I expect perfection!" Harry's voice rang out, laced with fury. He stood over the fallen men, his expression stoic as he processed the grim reality of what he had just done. “I don’t ever want to hear you sorry excuses!” He yelled at his men as he threw the rest of his cigarette to the floor.

"Boss!" Lex's urgent voice cut through the tension as he hurried over. "Silas is missing”

Harry's expression darkened further, his jaw tightening as he processed the news. "Gone?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

The pieces fell into place in Harry's mind with a sickening clarity. Silas and Y/N were together, of that he was certain. His brother had defied him, choosing to aid her escape rather than remain loyal to his own family. The thought only fueled Harry's anger further, igniting a firestorm of betrayal within him.

He clenched his fists, his knuckles white with tension, as he struggled to contain the storm raging inside him. Every fiber of his being screamed for retribution, for the swift and merciless punishment of those who dared to cross him.

But Harry knew he couldn't afford to act rashly. He needed to find them first, to confront them face to face and make them understand the consequences of their actions. Only then would he unleash the full force of his wrath upon them.

With a deep breath, Harry forced himself to calm down, to channel his anger into a steely determination. He would find Silas and Y/N, no matter the cost. And when he did, they would learn firsthand what it meant to defy Harry, the head of the family.

“The horses are missing. Two” another man called out as he approached the group. Harry smiled, he knew where they had gone. Silas was too predictable. Harry remained quiet as he walked towards the stables and through the field.

Reaching the stables, Harry wasted no time in selecting a horse. He chose a powerful black stallion, its muscles rippling beneath its glossy coat, a fitting companion for his mission. With practiced ease, he saddled the horse, his movements precise and efficient.

As he mounted the steed, Harry's jaw clenched with determination. He knew where Silas had taken Y/N, a secluded spot deep within the woods where they often retreated to in their youth. It was a place filled with memories, both fond and fraught, but now it served as a hiding place for those who dared to defy him.

With a firm grip on the reins, Harry urged the horse forward, setting off towards the woods at a swift pace. The wind whipped at his face, carrying with it the scent of the forest and the promise of confrontation. He rode with purpose, his gaze fixed ahead, his mind focused on the task at hand.

As he neared the edge of the woods, Harry's heart pounded with anticipation. He knew that Silas and Y/N were waiting for him somewhere within, but he refused to let fear or doubt cloud his resolve. With a steely determination, he urged the horse onwards, ready to confront those who dared to challenge his authority.

Silas and Y/N found themselves nestled in a serene meadow deep within the woods, far removed from the chaos of the estate. The horses, tethered to a sturdy tree nearby, grazed contentedly, their presence a comforting backdrop to the tranquility of their surroundings.

Spread out on a blanket beneath the dappled shade of the trees, Silas and Y/N shared a simple yet satisfying meal, accompanied by a bottle of wine. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze provided a soothing soundtrack to their conversation, as they spoke of their pasts, their dreams, and the uncertain future that lay ahead.

As they lounged on the soft grass, bathed in the golden light of the afternoon sun, Silas and Y/N found solace in each other's company. They laughed and reminisced, their words mingling with the chirping of birds and the distant murmur of a nearby stream. For a fleeting moment, the weight of their responsibilities and the shadows of their troubled pasts seemed to fade away, replaced by a sense of freedom and possibility.

In that tranquil oasis amidst the wilderness, Silas and Y/N found respite from the tumultuous world outside. And as they whiled away the hours in each other's company, they forged a bond that transcended the confines of duty and expectation, a bond born of shared experiences and mutual understanding.

As the wine flowed and the conversation deepened, Silas's tone grew increasingly somber. With a furrowed brow and a steely gaze, he confided in Y/N, his words heavy with resentment and bitterness.

"I hate him," Silas murmured, his voice laced with venom. "I hate Harry and everything he stands for. He's controlled our lives for far too long, dictating our every move, our every decision."

Y/N felt a chill run down her spine as she listened to Silas's words, her senses suddenly sharpened by the tension in the air. The jovial atmosphere of their earlier conversation had evaporated, replaced by an ominous silence that seemed to hang heavily between them.

"I want to be free of him," Silas continued, his voice low and intense. "I want to break away from his grasp and carve out my own path, away from his shadow."

Y/N's heart quickened with unease as she regarded Silas, his features twisted with a mixture of anger and determination. Despite the warmth of the wine coursing through her veins, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled in the pit of her stomach.

In that moment, she saw a glimpse of something darker lurking behind Silas's eyes, a coldness that sent a shiver down her spine. She realized then that she was in the presence of a man driven by deep-seated resentment and a thirst for revenge, and for the first time since their escape, Y/N felt a twinge of fear creeping into her heart.

As the tranquil ambiance of the meadow was shattered by the distant sound of galloping hooves, Y/N's heart leaped into her throat. She turned her head sharply, her eyes widening in alarm as she beheld the sight of Harry, astride his powerful steed, thundering towards them with a fierce determination etched upon his features.

A wave of panic washed over Y/N as she realized that their idyllic retreat had been discovered far too soon. She scrambled to her feet, her pulse racing with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. Beside her, Silas's expression darkened with apprehension, his earlier bravado giving way to a sense of impending doom.

chapter 9

[mulledcherrywine]

baby names

summary: you and harry cannot agree

a/n: teeeeechnically prequel to Rosie? (spoiler for this then i guess, whoops)

“Angela?” Harry said, going down the list of names he’d complied since finding out you we’re going to have a baby. Even though he’d written about a hundred, you couldn’t agree with a single one.

“Angela? H, no. No babies are named Angela,” you said.

“Literally everyone named Angela was once a baby”

You gave him a lovingly menacing look, coaxing him onto the next name.

“Allegra?”

“Did you alphabetize these?”

“Okay, sorry, next,” He breathed out, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, i’m being mean and picky,” you said, running a hand on the back of his neck, “but this is our kid, like, this is a very important choice.”

“Think we need a break?”

“Always. Do you want tea?”

Harry nodded wordlessly, scanning over his list once more. Getting up, you stepped off to the kitchen to make cups for the both of you.

The cupboard was stocked with all different types of tea, but you knew Harry’s favourite was chamomile. Grabbing the box down, you’d noticed a teeny red box shoved behind it.

Rosehip Tea

Sparks jumped in your mind, repeating the name over and over to yourself.

“Rosie,” you practically sang, “Rosie!”

“What?” Harry called from the other room.

Running in, crushing the box in your fist, you could’ve nearly jumped in the air.

“Rosie, Harry, Rosie. It’s the name.”

“Name of what?”

“Oh for fucks sake, Harry, the baby!”

He thought for a moment, but his face lit up almost straight away, telling you his agreement wasn’t far off.

“I think that’s perfect,” he said, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

"So do I."

[unabashegirl]

Vicious 5 || Harry Styles x Mafia

Summary: Harry Styles, the cold and calculating son of a powerful mafia don, must consolidate power after his father's passing. He faces challenges from his unpredictable younger brother, Silas, and navigates a complex world of alliances, ruthless decisions, and family loyalty. Amidst the intrigue, the elegant and alluring Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, attends the funeral and finds herself drawn to Harry. As power dynamics shift and the future remains uncertain, the story explores the dark and dangerous allure of the mafia, the weight of family legacies, and the potential for unexpected connections in a world defined by secrecy and ruthlessness.

author's note: I just wanted to come on here and thank everyone who has joined Patreon and also everyone who has started following me on here! thank you so so much! I'll be forever thankful for contributing to my education!

warnings: violence, cursing and more.

masterist of vicious

word count: 2.1K

"He's gone." Federico had essentially abandoned her there. He denied her a place in the car, covertly ordered her bags packed, leaving her feeling betrayed by her own father. She wasn't prepared to move in; the prospect of residing in the unfamiliar manor, with its intricate family dynamics, intimidated her. Y/N sensed the impending challenges of being accepted into the family, particularly given her less-than-amicable start with Harry. Fear gripped her as she contemplated the potential difficulties that lay ahead. "I suppose I'm moving in now."

"Who gave you that order?" Harry's questioning tone cut through the air. The last thing he needed was an unfamiliar presence wandering the estate, potentially stirring up trouble. His distrust of her was palpable—she wasn't part of the family, and in his eyes, that meant she hadn't earned any respect or loyalty.

"My father," Y/N retorted, a hint of annoyance evident in her eyes. "Listen, I don't want to be here. The feeling is mutual. I'll be out of your hair as soon as I'm able to leave."

Harry turned to Charlie, seeking answers. "Where is Lex?" Confusion mirrored on Charlie's face, matching Harry's bewilderment.

"He's downstairs, disposing of some things," Y/N revealed, her eyes rolling in disdain.

"He's taking care of the body downstairs," she added, a subtle revelation conveyed to Harry. His sharp gaze turned towards the Italian woman.

"No one was talking to you. Mind your own fucking business," Charlie snapped at Y/N, an unspoken tension filling the room. Unfazed, Y/N merely shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the hostility directed her way. The stage was set for a collision of personalities within the intricate web of the English mafia.

"Go find Silas," Harry commanded Charlie.

"Where is he?"

"How would I know, Charlie?! Go find him. He is probably doing nothing as always," Harry retorted, his frustration evident. The presence of Y/N in the estate irked him; it meant he had to be more discreet about his activities. Her moving in seemed to symbolize a level of commitment he wasn't ready for.

"Who is Silas?" Y/N inquired, her tone laced with curiosity. "Also, can I get a room? Just to leave all of my stuff and shit?"

"Do you know that you ask too many questions?" Harry responded, fingers flying over his phone as he texted Lex, attempting to bring him into his immediate service. There were tasks at hand, and Lex was the only one capable of assisting him.

"You called?" Silas appeared, extricating himself from Charlie's grasp. She had essentially pulled him away from his haven, where he spent his days immersed in books, avoiding the inevitable clashes with Harry.

"Find Y/N a room and keep her out of the way," Harry ordered Silas. The strained atmosphere between the brothers had lingered since their father's funeral, the bitter taste of disappointment for Silas, who felt that Arthur's will had unequivocally favored Harry. Silas turned to glance at Y/N, sizing her up with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

"Who do you think I am? Her fucking babysitter?" Silas spat, disdain dripping from his words. "I've got better things to do than to be at your beck and call." He pivoted on his heel, ready to leave, but Harry had other plans. Something had snapped within him—perhaps it was the insubordination in front of Y/N and his men or the lingering discomfort from Silas's entrance at their father's funeral. Whatever it was, Harry saw red.

Without warning, Harry reached out and seized Silas by the back of his shirt, forcefully bringing him back. A swift punch connected with Silas's nose, and the onslaught continued. The sounds of bones crunching and blood splattering filled the air, and Y/N, horrified, shouted, "STOP! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!" Desperation colored her voice as she tried to pull the enraged Harry away from his battered brother.

Y/N surveyed the room, taking in the unsettling sight of men passively observing Harry disfigure Silas's face. A chilling stillness gripped the air; none of them made a move, objected, or attempted to intervene. They knew the unwritten rule: interfering would redirect Harry's wrath onto themselves, and none dared to challenge the boss. The ominous tableau unfolded, a tableau of silent submission.

Harry eventually halted his assault, his knuckles worn and Silas's body limp beneath him. The room bore witness to a scene reminiscent of a crime documentary, with Harry rising from his knees to his feet. Specks of blood adorned the collar and sleeves of his button-down shirt, and his hands were stained, knuckles split open. Unfazed, he pushed his hair back, presenting a picture of calculated violence.

Without a word to Y/N or anyone else, Harry retrieved a cigarette from his pocket. As he walked past Y/N, a cold and sinister look lingered on his face, leaving an indelible impression on the room's atmosphere.

Y/N waited until Harry left the room and knelt beside Silas. His face bore the evidence of the brutal assault—cuts, a fractured nose, bruised and purple skin, busted lip, and injured eyebrows.

“Don’t touch him or move him,” Charlie warned, already dialing his phone.

“He needs help,” she argued, the memories of her father's similar actions resurfacing, though never with such hatred and never directed at his own brother.

“I know,” Charlie nodded, “What do you think I am doing?” Within ten minutes, the medic and nurse living on the grounds arrived. Silas was carefully transferred upstairs. Y/N could only hope he would recover.

Charlie guided her to a room, noticeably smaller and darker than what she was accustomed to.

“I'm sure this will be enough for you,” Charlie stated. “Dinner will be at eight,” he added before leaving the bedroom. The bed, though not as grand as her usual one, boasted a beautiful canopy, casting a shadow over the somber atmosphere of the English manor.

The bedroom held an air of antiquity, its walls adorned with dark, polished wood paneling that seemed to absorb the ambient light. Heavy drapes, drawn tightly shut, further dimmed the space, casting an almost melancholic aura. The canopy over the bed boasted intricate patterns, a testament to craftsmanship from a bygone era. Despite the opulence of the bed, the room's overall atmosphere felt cold and unwelcoming. An ornate vanity mirror stood in the corner, reflecting the somber scene within the room. The furniture, though well-maintained, bore signs of wear, hinting at the passage of time and the weight of secrets held within the walls of the English manor.

Y/N immersed herself in the task of unfolding and hanging the clothes that had been packed for her, all the while dialing her best friend, Giana. Their friendship had withstood the test of time, enduring since the tender age of five. However, Giana now lived in the clutches of an Italian marriage, leaving Y/N feeling the void of her absence.

"Hi," Giana whispered, orchestrating her escape from the bedroom into the bathroom, where the sound of running water provided a disguise for her voice. The last thing Giana needed was to be overheard by her husband, Augusto. “How is everything?”

"My dad basically kicked me out of the house. I am now staying con gli inglesi," Y/N shared, her voice reflecting a mix of frustration and sadness.

"How is Harry treating you?" Giana inquired, sensing an underlying distress in her friend's response. Y/N couldn't hold back tears as she recounted the distressing scene she had just witnessed. "Quello che è successo?" Giana asked, concerned and probing for details.

"He beat his brother almost to death. It was horrible," Y/N admitted between soft sobs. The realization of the kind of man Harry was had unsettled her deeply. "I don’t know if I can take all of this. I want to leave already. Maybe it is time to put our plan in action."

Giana glanced nervously at the locked bathroom door, a barrier between her and the turmoil of her own married life.

"I don’t know, Y/N," she hesitantly responded. "What if we get caught? The repercussions can be worse."

"But what if we succeed, G? What if we can finally get away from all this shit and live a tranquil life, running that little cafe that you have always wanted to open in a very secluded town? Far and far away from our fathers and nightmares?" Y/N proposed, yearning for an escape from the suffocating grip of their current lives.

Before Giana could respond, and while she contemplated her life, the door began to be pounded by Augusto as he screamed for her to come out.

“I- I can’t, Y/N,” she nervously said, attempting to stay focused on their conversation rather than her husband's escalating shouts. “He won’t let me. He'll search until he finds me.”

“We can do it. You deserve a better life, G. Remember how miserably our mothers were and how young they died,” Y/N urged, able to hear the escalating shouts and the incessant banging on the door.

“Bene, but it must happen tonight,” Giana clarified. Her husband had some business to attend to, which only meant that she would have time to devise a plan to escape the premises.

“Okay. Stasera. Call me when you are able,” Y/N finally said before hanging up. The urgency in Giana's situation only fueled their determination to break free from the shackles of their oppressive lives.

She couldn’t wait. Y/N had to leave before dinner. At dinner all the men would be gather and waiting for her appereance. She had to escape before. That was the only way that she wuld have a chance.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her mind racing as she contemplated the escape plan. She glanced around the room, looking for any potential obstacles or challenges. The window seemed like her best bet; it was a risk, but she had to take it. The room's dim lighting and heavy drapes provided some cover, and she knew Harry would be too occupied with whatever he had happening to go check on her.

First, she quietly opened the window, praying it wouldn't creak and give her away. The chilly night air swept into the room, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She gathered a few essentials into a small bag – some clothes, her passport, and a bit of money she had managed to save over the years.

Y/N could still hear Harry’s muffled shouts from the other side of the house, giving her a sense of urgency. She looked back at the bed, debating whether to leave a note, but to who? None cared enough for her to want to know.

She experimented with various drapes and bed sheets from her room, carefully easing them down the window. Surveying the scene from her vantage point, she concluded that the space below was empty, ensuring her descent would go unnoticed.

With a quick glance around the room to make sure she had packed all the essentials in her bag, Y/N took a deep breath, summoning the courage to execute her plan. She wrapped the makeshift rope around her hands, securing it tightly, and then began her descent, cautiously lowering herself from the window.

The night air brushed against her face as she descended, and each inch brought her closer to freedom. The silence of the estate enveloped her, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and excitement. The ground neared, and with a soft landing, she released the makeshift rope.

Swiftly making her way to the edge of the property, Y/N took cover in the shadows, avoiding any security cameras or patrolling guards.

Waiting until the echoes of footsteps and voices faded into the night, Y/N swiftly darted into the dense woods. The moonlight filtered through the branches, casting an ethereal glow on her determined face. Each step carried her farther away from the imposing estate and the looming fate of an arranged marriage to Harry.

Navigating the shadows and weaving through the trees, Y/N pressed on with a sense of urgency. The forest concealed her movements as she sought a path that would lead her to a road, a lifeline to escape the impending union. The rustling leaves beneath her hurried steps seemed to echo the beats of her racing heart.

In the silence of the woods, Y/N contemplated the enormity of her decision. Yet, the prospect of freedom, away from the suffocating expectations and uncertainties, fueled her resolve. The night air carried both the weight of her familial ties and the promise of a new beginning, and she pressed on, guided by the hope of a life of her own choosing.

Chapter 6

if you'd like to continue reading and have early access to more chapters then I suggest you to visit my patreon!

[mulledcherrywine]

Jamaica

summary: after a day of recording, the crew spends the night on the beach, giving secrets a chance to get out

“Fuck,” Harry sighed, leaning back in his roller chair and pushing his hands against his face, “feels like we’ve been here all day”

“We have been,” Mitch responded, showing the same tired expression as Harry had.

You were stretched out across the sofa in the back of the studio. You had been helping with a few vocals earlier, and some instrumental, but now - like everyone else - you were completely swamped.

Harry wanted everything to be perfect for his debut, which was understandable, but it was hard to be cooped up in a studio for 12 hours a day when some of the most beautiful ocean you’d ever seen was right outside.

Not to mention, it was growing impossible to keep a friendly composure with Harry while under everyone’s noses but incredibly secretly, you were much more than that. You both agreed you weren’t quite ready to “reveal” yourselves yet, but sometimes it proved to be quite difficult.

“Why don’t we go down to the water tonight?” you posed to the group, “I mean, we always stare down there from the deck, why don’t we actually go?”

The crew perked up at the suggestion, the sleepiness that was in the room seconds before already seeming to melt away.

“Oh god, yes, please, can we?” Sarah chimed.

“But, what about the backing for that one part?” Harry said slightly panicked.

“You need a break, H. Seriously.” Mitch said as he took the ‘to-do’ list from Harry’s hands.

“Do I look that rough?”

“No comment.”

“He’s right, Har,” you spoke, “We should all go down, it’ll be fun.”

He gave you a look only you would recognize, and leapt up from his seat.

“Fuck it, let’s go” he said, picking up his things.

“Atta boy,” Mitch joked.

As the group of you left the studio, Harry leant closely to your ear, the both of you at the back of the group.

“Miss you so much” he hummed.

“Later” you said gently as you discreetly moved a few curls from out of his eyes. If anyone turned around, you though it would be pretty easy to play off as friendly.

Harry’s eyes looked to your lips sadly, then up to your eyes.

“Later” you said again, smiling.

He adjusted the bag on his shoulder, and switched back to being just Harry, and the group of you made your way back to the house for the beach.

—

“Okay, okay, fine. What was your most embarrassing moment in high school then?” Sarah laughed, currently living her dream of playing a big round of ‘Truth or Dare’. Some of the more “mature” members of the crew would never admit to having fun playing a middle school sleepover game, you could tell they were. Plus you all promised to appease them by adding in an alcoholic twist, just for extra fun.

The group of were all down by the water, huddled around a small fire you’d made up. The waves were quiet, and the wind was warm. Harry was sat so close to you, you could’ve leant your head on his shoulder any second. Still, you restrained. It was getting harder, though.

“I’m drinking,” Adam said as he threw back a shot, “None of you knew me in High School, and I could not be more grateful”

A few laughs erupted around the circle. The turn passed on to Adam to ask.

“Alright, i’ll be the brave one who asks the boss” he laughed, “Truth or dare, man”

Harry laughed as he ran a hand nervously through his hair.

“Um, dare. I’ll take the chance”

Adam nodded, thinking for a moment before a menacing look spread across his face.

“Okay, I dare you and y/n to kiss” he said, sounding like an all-too-giddy twelve year-old.

“Adam!” you said, flipping your gaze to Harry.

Harry returned the glance, silently asking with his eyes if you were okay with Adam’s ask.

You nodded subtly.

“Okay,” Harry said quietly, unbreaking his look with you as the both of you leaned in to share a kiss. Not nearly the first time between the two of you, but the most romantic you had ever been in front of anyone.

A few cheers erupted before you both broke apart, trying your hardest to act like you were embarrassed by the act, or at least show that you were very much joking about doing it.

“Well, I don’t think any of us will top that” Sarah laughed.

“Yes, well, we’re winners” Harry bragged, taking a drink.

As commotion rose for everyone to get back to casual conversation and resuming the game, you and Harry faded yourselves from the socialization. He leant himself down to you.

“You okay?” he said.

“Of course,” you replied. You lowered your voice a little more, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since, like, this morning”

A downturned smile appeared on Harry’s face, his small dimples taking shape under the light of the fire.

“Want to go inside, then? Call it a night?”

“I think if we leave together, H, everyone will know”

“Y’right. But, I think Mitch is about to fall asleep, probably won’t be out here much longer”

You looked over to the guitarist, who was very much half-alive, slumped down on Sarah’s shoulder.

“God, i’m exhausted” you said, hoping to suggest a natural end to the evening, “Might head up soon, yeah?”

Everyone else’s shared their sounds of worn-out agreement, Sarah shaking Mitch gently awake.

“I can stay in your room, then, Har?” you said quietly, hiding yourself a little behind your hand.

“Always” Harry said.

You excitedly turned away on your heels, heading off up the stone path and into the house.

As Harry leant down to help Adam fold up his own things, Adam placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“So, how long have you two been something?”

“What?” Harry said shocked.

“C’mon, H. I know you think you’re all cryptic and secretive but I promise you, no one smiles like that after kissing a friend. You were practically hyperventilating, man.”

“I just, you know, felt-”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone else.”

“Really?”

“Swear to it. You deserve it.”

“Thank you, Adam. Really.”

Adam slung his bag over his shoulder, heading after the same path you had hopped down moments before. He gave a cheesy solute to Harry before turning off toward the house.

Harry grabbed his own things and shortly followed suit, heading to get back inside with you.

In his room, you were tucked sleepily into the XL duvet on his bed, looking out to the sea through the window. You felt a heavily gentle hand rest on your hip.

“Hi, lovie” Harry whispered, nestling himself in to spoon you, adjusting his gaze to look at the water with you.

“Hey” you said quietly, reaching to grab his hand.

“So, Adam knows.”

“I figured, we were a bit obvious out there”

“Y’think?”

“We probably should’ve been more resistant” you spoke sadly.

“What if we didn’t have to be anymore, I mean, what if we just told everyone”

“I thought we said it wasn’t what we wanted right now?”

You turned your body around to face him, now holding his face gently, twirling little strands of his hair around your nails.

“I think I want something different now,” he said, eyes moving like he was looking for his thoughts, “I want us to be us”

“I’d like that” you chimed.

“So when should we spring it on ‘em?”

“Tomorrow? Get it done with?”

“Perfect” he confirmed as he settled with the idea of going public.

He pulled you tighter into his frame, tucking the both of you tightly in.

“So I guess,” he started, “that leaves tonight just for us, then, hm?”

“I guess it does.”

[unabashegirl]

Enticing 35 || Harry Styles

Summary: Harry is a young billionaire and CEO of his own company. He mostly keeps to himself, he is stern and very meticulous when it comes to business. He also likes to keep his personal life very private for the sake of his newly born son Oliver Styles. It isn't until he meets Y/N Y/L/N that everything changes. She becomes his new nanny after his previous one quits due to personal reasons. She is young, caring, and sweet. Will they ignore their feelings? Will Harry's girlfriend accept their love and leave them? Will she be able to cope with his busy agenda? What about Oliver's mother? Where is she? Who is she?

masterlist

word count: 1.7K

The day of the prenatal appointment arrived, and Harry and Y/N found themselves sitting side by side in the waiting room of the obstetrician's office. The atmosphere was hushed, the anticipation palpable as they exchanged glances filled with a mix of nerves and determination.

Harry's fingers tapped rhythmically against his thigh, a manifestation of the tension that had settled within him. Y/N, on the other hand, took deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. They were navigating uncharted territory together, and the upcoming appointment was a significant milestone in their journey.

When their names were finally called, they rose from their seats, the weight of the moment pressing upon them. Harry reached out and gently squeezed Y/N's hand, offering her a reassuring smile that masked his own apprehensions.

Together, they entered the doctor's office, where they were greeted by a warm and friendly obstetrician. Dr. Williams had been recommended to Y/N by her mother, and her gentle demeanor put both Harry and Y/N at ease.

Dr. Williams, a middle-aged man with a warm smile, addressed Y/N first, his tone professional but kind. "Good afternoon, Y/N. How have you been feeling since our last visit?"

Y/N answered, sharing her thoughts and any concerns she had about the pregnancy, her gaze never leaving the doctor. However, as the appointment continued, Dr. Williams seemed to become increasingly friendly with Y/N, his mannerisms shifting from professional to overly familiar. Harry had also found it incredibly rude and unprofessional for him not to greet him yet he abstained from saying anything. The last thing he wanted was to upset Y/N.

Harry couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in the doctor's behavior. He watched as Dr. Williams playfully flirted with Y/N, offering compliments and personal anecdotes that were unrelated to the appointment. Harry's unease grew with each passing moment, his protective instincts kicking in.

When Dr. Williams addressed Y/N's pregnancy and casually mentioned, "So, you're doing this all on your own, then?" Harry felt a surge of anger and frustration. It was clear that the doctor assumed Y/N was a single mother and he was just a friend. He was done playing nice. It was time he let his presence be known.

Before Y/N could respond, Harry spoke up, his tone firm and assertive. "Actually, no. We're doing this together."Harry's eyebrows shot up in mild surprise as he took Dr. Williams' hand. “Harry Styles”.

Dr. Williams raised an eyebrow in surprise, his gaze shifting between Harry and Y/N. "Oh, I see. My apologies for the assumption. I presume you must be the father?”

“That’s right” He dryly said.

As the appointment progressed, they experienced a mix of emotions. They heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time—a moment that left them both awe-struck and teary-eyed. Dr. Williams shared important information about the pregnancy, discussing the upcoming milestones and what to expect in the months to come.

Just before the appointment ended and as Y/N wiped the gel off her bump, Harry cleared his throat, his tone earnest. "Dr. Williams, we wanted to discuss something important with you."

The doctor's demeanor shifted slightly, sensing the seriousness of their tone. "Of course, please have a seat."

Once they were settled, Y/N began, her voice steady. "Harry and I have decided to do a paternity test to confirm the biological father of the baby."

Dr. Williams' expression remained professional, his gaze shifting between them. "I understand. It's a significant step, and it's important to ensure clarity."

Harry nodded, his tone firm. " We want to get it done as soon as possible."

Dr. Williams leaned back in his chair, considering their request. "I can provide you with the necessary referrals and information for the test. It typically involves a blood sample from both the mother and the potential father."

Y/N and Harry exchanged a look of acknowledgment, gratitude evident in their expressions.

"Thank you, Dr. Williams," Y/N said, her voice sincere.

Outside the doctor's office, in the corridor of the medical center, Harry and Y/N shared a moment of quiet reflection. The weight of their shared experience hung in the air, a reminder that they were united by the life growing within Y/N, a life they would both cherish and support, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

Leaving the hospital behind after their prenatal appointment and discussions about their unborn baby, Harry and Y/N stepped into the fresh air of the city, their steps carrying them away from the medical center.

As they walked down the sidewalk, Harry's curiosity got the better of him. "So, what's on your agenda for the rest of the day. Do you have a lot of work ahead?"

Y/N's gaze wandered to the bustling city around them before she replied, her voice calm. "Actually, I'm heading to the new apartment to receive some furniture that's being delivered."

Harry's brows furrowed with concern. "Are you doing it all on your own?"

Y/N's lips curved into a small smile, appreciating Harry's thoughtfulness. "No, Patrick is helping me, but he'll only be available after he's done with work."

Harry's worry didn't dissipate. "That's kind of risky, isn't it? Carrying heavy furniture and all?"

Y/N nodded in understanding, acknowledging the validity of his concern. "Yes, it can be, but we'll be careful. I can't leave the furniture out in the hallway, and Patrick offered to assist once he's available."

Harry's protective nature kicked in as he offered an alternative solution. "I could help you. I'm free for the rest of the day, and it's better than waiting for Patrick."

Y/N's gratitude shone in her eyes, and she shook her head gently. "Harry, you've done enough today with the appointment and everything. I don't want to take up more of your time”

Harry's concern for Y/N's well-being was unwavering, and as they continued their walk down the bustling city streets, he couldn't shake the nagging worry about her handling heavy furniture on her own.

"Y/N," he began, his tone gentle yet resolute, "I can't just stand by knowing you're handling all that furniture on your own. It's not safe, especially during your pregnancy."

Y/N glanced at him, her expression a mix of appreciation and a hint of protest. "I know you want to help, but you've already done so much today. You don't have to—"

Harry interrupted her, his voice firm. "I want to help because I care about you and the baby. I can't let you take unnecessary risks. Please, let me come with you."

There was a pause as Y/N met his determined gaze, recognizing the sincerity in his words. After a moment, she relented with a small smile. "Alright. I don't want to argue about it. Thank you for being so thoughtful."

Harry's lips curled into a relieved smile, his hand finding hers once again as they continued walking. "I promise it won't take long, and I'll make sure everything is set up safely."

As they approached Y/N's apartment building, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He had successfully convinced Y/N to let him help, and he was determined to ensure everything went smoothly.

Y/N's new apartment was a charming and intimate space, radiating personality and warmth despite its smaller size compared to Harry's more lavish abode. Nestled in a bustling city neighborhood, the building itself had an old-world charm, complete with a wrought-iron staircase and a vintage elevator with a metal gate.

Stepping through the front door of the apartment, one would find themselves in a welcoming living area that doubled as her lounge and dining space. The open-plan design made the most of the limited square footage.

The living area boasted a cozy sofa in a rich, earthy tone that begged to be lounged on. Overhead, a stylish pendant light cast a warm, golden glow. Beside the sofa, a rustic wooden coffee table held a few well-chosen decorative items, including a vase of fresh flowers.

“The couch is being replaced. All the furniture here is just temporarily” She explained to Harry as she allowed him to explore the apartment. “Except for the barstools. Those I got a few days ago”.

The walls of the living room were painted in soft, soothing colors, which made the space feel more expansive than it actually was. A large window allowed natural light to filter in during the day, revealing a charming cityscape view.

Adjacent to the living area was a compact kitchen, where Y/N could whip up her favorite meals. It featured modern appliances, sleek countertops, and a breakfast bar with a couple of stylish barstools.

Down a short corridor were the bedrooms. The bathroom, while not overly spacious, was functional and clean. It featured a standing shower, a sink with a mirrored cabinet, and a few shelves stocked with toiletries.

“There is no bathtub” Harry pointed out to her. “How are you going to bathe her?”

“Her?” Harry smiled and looked away. “I was hesitant to get it because of it. I guess I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

Overall, Y/N's apartment exuded a sense of coziness and personality. It was the kind of place where you could easily curl up with a good book or share a glass of wine with friends. While it lacked the grandeur of Harry's home, it was perfect for her—a space where she could express her individuality and create new memories, especially as she awaited the arrival of her child. Harry couldn't wait to see it fully furnished, knowing that it would only become more charming with each added piece.

SNEAK PEAK OF CHAPTER 49 ON PATREON

oficial patreon — $5.00 USD; includes exclusive access to all FIVE series. Vicious, Enticing, Different, Lycan and Regalia.

only enticing — $3.00 USD; includes exclusive access to all chapters of enticing up to chapter 49.

LINKS

🌷 PATREON (for early access to chapters) — patreon.com/user?u=82988391

🌷 INSTAGRAM LINK (for updates)  — https://www.instagram.com/unabashedgirl?igsh=OGQ5ZDc2ODk2ZA%3D%3D&utm_source=qr

TAGLIST

@0oolookitsme, @happycupcakeenthusiast, @kennedywxlsh, @hsfics, @stylesbrock, @cuddlingwithharry, @sucker4angstt, @bluemoonedwings, @cherriesrae, @vornilla, @mellamolayla, @harryscurls21, @stilesissaved, @be-with-me-so-happily, @harryssattelitestomper, @jerseygirlinca, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @lomlolivia, @stylesfever, @daphnesutton, @n0vaj3an, @breezykpop, @kathb59

[unabashegirl]

Enticing 45 — Harry Styles CEO

Summary: Harry is a young billionaire and CEO of his own company. He mostly keeps to himself, he is stern and very meticulous when it comes to business. He also likes to keep his personal life very private for the sake of his newly born son Oliver Styles. It isn't until he meets Y/N Y/L/N that everything changes. She becomes his new nanny after his previous one quits due to personal reasons. She is young, caring, and sweet. Will they ignore their feelings? Will Harry's girlfriend accept their love and leave them? Will she be able to cope with his busy agenda? What about Oliver's mother? Where is she? Who is she?

— masterlist of enticing —

word count: 1.7K

TAGLIST: @0oolookitsme, @happycupcakeenthusiast, @kennedywxlsh , @hsfics, @stylesbrock, @bluemoonedwings , @cherriesrae , @vornilla , @mellamolayla , @harryscurls21 , @stilesissaved , @be-with-me-so-happily , @harryssattelitestomper , @jerseygirlinca , @tenaciousperfectionunknown , @lomlolivia , @stylesfever , @daphnesutton , @n0vaj3an , @breezykpop , @kathb59 , @sassamanda77 , @sherbitdibdab

“You really are the asshole that everyone says you are” Allison whispered as her eyes teared. “You have no compassion for your own parents, Harry. What does it say about you?” She spat back. “You are a shitty dad. You live in the damn fictional world with all the commodities in the world, and you are still miserable! Your money gets you nowhere because you are still a dick”.

Harry maintained a tense silence, his anger too overwhelming to find words. His jaw clenched, nostrils flared, and a knot formed in his throat. He yearned to express everything, to make his sister understand why their father didn't deserve an ounce of pity, but his fury stifled his voice.

“I know this may not concern me directly, but I can't stand by and let you talk to him like that, Allison, while I remain silent,” Y/N boldly declared as she rose from the couch, cradling Oliver. “You've come here seeking forgiveness for your father, yet you insult Harry, calling him a bad man when he's everything your father isn't. He's a great dad. So, instead of cornering him after his workday and insulting him in his own home, in front of his child, you should be asking him about all the trauma he's endured because of your father.”

Some newfound strength had surged within her. Y/N wouldn't have dared to intervene in such a matter a few months ago. Perhaps it was the hormones, the surging vitality within her, or the impending arrival of their baby that had emboldened her to speak her mind.

“Excuse me; I'm going to put Oliver to bed,” Y/N gracefully announced, heading upstairs to Oliver's nursery. She gently placed his sleeping body into the cot and kissed him goodnight before making her way back downstairs. Harry and Allison remained in a tense silence.

“What trauma?” Allison finally inquired. “He was cold, Harry. Just like he is now. Nothing has changed. Is that the trauma?”

“You're truly oblivious. Mom and Dad have really fooled you,” Harry responded with a sarcastic chuckle, surprised that she had never asked the right questions until now.

“Tell me then,” Allison took off her gloves and coat, placing them on the couch alongside her purse. “Humor me,” she added as she sat down, crossing her ankles. Y/N, watching from the kitchen, felt a growing disapproval toward Allison. This version of her wasn't the same Allison she had met at the Hamptons.

“I'm not ready,” Harry admitted. He had attended therapy for most of his teenage years and young adulthood to heal the wounds inflicted by his father. He had discussed many of the painful memories, but he wasn't prepared to remember it all and shatter the image his sister held of their father. Harry's mother had insisted on hiding it all from her youngest child, even begging Harry not to tell Allison.

“Why? If Dad is as terrible as you say, then I should know.”

“It's not my place to tell you, Allison. It's mom's,” Harry explained, turning his back to her and heading toward the kitchen. He was hungry, and he knew Y/N must be too. He didn't want to keep her waiting. “Hungry? I got you some Chinese.”

Y/N couldn't help but smile, her heart fluttering at this simple but sweet gesture. She found it endearing that he had made time in his day to satisfy her cravings.

Harry opened the brown paper bags, and as Y/N wrapped her arms around his torso, she kissed his back, holding him tightly as a way to comfort him and ease some of the stress he had just experienced.

“I love you,” she whispered against his shirt, savoring the scent of his sandalwood aftershave mixed with cologne.

Just as Harry turned his head to reciprocate her declaration, Allison walked into the kitchen, carrying all of her belongings.

“I guess this talk is over. I'll get out of your hair, then,” she said, displaying disappointment and confusion about how their conversation regarding their father had concluded.

“Have you had dinner already?” Harry inquired as he unpacked the boxes from the bags. Allison shook her head as she donned her gloves. “And you aren't staying for dinner?” Harry asked.

“Do you want me to stay? I thought you were angry with me,” Allison questioned, her expression a mix of uncertainty. “I thought you wanted me to leave.”

“You're still my sister, Allison, and there's plenty of food,” Harry replied. “It's Chinese. I hope that's not a problem.”

“That's perfect, actually,” she said, moving to the kitchen island and retrieving a stool to sit on.

“Let me get some plates,” Y/N offered as Harry began to open the boxes containing noodles, rice, and more. Y/N stretched on her tiptoes to reach for the plates that were stored higher than she remembered.

“You're pregnant?!” Allison exclaimed as she noticed Y/N's bump revealed by her sweater. Y/N quickly lowered her arms, covering her baby bump with the plates. Harry turned to Y/N with a small smile, understanding her embarrassment.

“She is,” Harry confirmed, considering how practical it would be to inform his parents about his second child. He anticipated his father's disapproval for having another child out of wedlock, but Harry didn't care; times had changed.

“No way! Were you ever going to tell me!” Allison beamed and pulled Harry into a tight hug. Harry had planned on informing her the next morning when he returned her calls, but Y/N had preempted him. “How far along are you?”

“Four months,” Y/N revealed as she set the plates on the placemats.

“Do you know what you're having?” Allison asked eagerly after hugging her.

“Not yet. Hopefully soon,” Y/N replied. The baby hadn't been in the right position during the last ultrasound, preventing the doctor from confirming the gender. Harry hoped for a daughter, as he had always wanted both a boy and a girl, while Y/N was less concerned about the baby's sex.

“I can't believe it! I'm so excited. You've got to tell Mom!” Allison couldn't contain her joy at the thought of Harry slowly building a family of his own. She might not have appreciated Y/N's interruption during their intense conversation, but she was genuinely pleased that Harry had found a woman who would stand by him through thick and thin. What astounded her even more was how comfortable Oliver had become with Y/N. He relied on her like a child would on his mother. And now, they were on the verge of expanding their little family even further.

“I'll call her soon. We wanted to savor this moment in private,” Harry explained, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “I'd appreciate it if you don't tell anyone just yet.”

“Of course, just Nate and Mom,” Allison replied with a giggle. “These are fantastic news!”

“Here,” Harry said, handing Y/N a box of freshly cooked dumplings he had gotten for her. “I hope you like them.” Harry smiled and planted a gentle peck on her lips. “Would you like some wine?” he offered his sister, while simultaneously pouring a glass of unsweetened tea for Y/N.

“Yes, please,” Y/N replied after wiping the corners of her mouth. “So, what's going to happen with your job as a nanny?" Allison inquired with genuine concern. “I can't imagine everyone wanting to hire a pregnant nanny.”

“I don't work as a nanny anymore,” Y/N revealed between bites of her dumpling.

“You're staying to home?” Allison asked, puzzled, as she hadn't envisioned Y/N as a full-time housewife.

“She's working at William’s company as an analyst,” Harry chimed in as he returned with his shirt untucked, two glasses in one hand, and a freshly opened bottle of wine in the other. “Y/N had been hiding her degree from everyone.”

“Well, I'm happy for both of you. You've managed to build a very nice life,” Allison said, smiling as Harry poured wine into her glass.

“How's Nate?” Harry inquired about his brother-in-law.

“He's working hard, as usual. He's fine. I'm fine,” she replied, nodding as if she were trying to convince herself.

“You should have brought him along,” Harry suggested.

“He's not into these kinds of things.”

“You're obviously staying the night, right? I assume you didn't bring a driver,” Harry stated firmly, determined not to let her drive, especially after drinking.

“No, I couldn't.”

“Allison, you're staying, and that's final. There's plenty of space,” he insisted, and they continued to eat and discuss the impending arrival of the baby.

After a few more glasses of wine and a bit more gossip about their inner circle, the Styles siblings decided to call it a day. Y/N was already yawning as Allison finished her fourth glass of wine.

“I'm exhausted,” Y/N said as she sank her petite frame onto the massive bed in Harry's bedroom. Harry watched her with amusement from the end of the bed.

“Maybe I should become a housewife and let you pay for everything,” she joked, eliciting laughter from Harry.

“No way, and not because I don't want you at home, but because I know how much you love going to work and earning your own money,” Harry responded. Y/N let out a soft groan of pleasure as Harry reached for one of her feet, massaging her sole gently.

“Still, I could be your trophy wife,” Y/N said, her tone playful. Harry laughed and continued his gentle touch.

“Why are you laughing? You think I can't?” she challenged.

“You'd go nuts in just three days, baby,” Harry replied, knowing her well. “I was thinking of taking a bath. Would you like to join?”

— PREVIEW OF CHAPTER 61 —

“What's wrong?” Y/N inquired, her voice laced with worry. She scanned Allison's face for any sign of distress, her heart pounding with apprehension.

“I-I...” Allison stammered, struggling to catch her breath. Elizabeth, sensing the urgency of the situation, hurried to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, her motherly instincts kicking in.

“Please, sit down,” Y/N urged, gesturing to the nearby couch. She knew that whatever news Allison had to share couldn't be easy to deliver.

Elizabeth swiftly returned with a glass of water, her hands trembling slightly as she handed it to Allison. The two women settled onto the couch, their eyes fixed on Allison, awaiting the news that had caused her such distress.

To their surprise, tears welled up in Allison's eyes, her emotions overwhelming her.

“Ali, please,” Y/N implored, her voice tinged with concern as she reached out to grasp Allison's hands, offering comfort. “Tell me what’s going on. You are scaring me”

Struggling to regain her composure, Allison took a deep breath before finally speaking.

“It's my mom and dad,” she began, her voice trembling. “They're at the hospital with Harry. They've decided to take him off life support.”

As Allison's words hung heavily in the air, a deep silence settled over the room. Y/N's heart sank at the news, her mind struggling to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

If you would like to read ahead and get access to 17 more chapters of enticing and more writing pieces then check out my Patreon and join our community.