#black rose wrap

[alukovinyl]

The black coloration of the petals is seen as a rejection of traditional beauty standards, and the rose's thorny exterior represents a resistance to conformity.

Black roses have become a popular symbol in gothic and alternative subcultures. They are often used in fashion, music, and art to represent a rejection of mainstream culture and a celebration of individuality.

Don't settle for a boring look. Never be tied to the boring look and mainstream. Release your unique Individuality! Do not hesitate to buy this black rode car wrap!

[sativafaeriemuva]

first time rolling a blazy susan rose smells amazing 💕🌹

[iceeericeee]

Literally no one asked but here’s my top five from my Spotify Wrapped skfjsks

Blitzkrieg Bop by The Ramones

Walk This Way by Aerosmith

Back in Black by AC/DC

Welcome to the Jungle by Guns ‘N Roses

Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne

[journey-to-the-attic]

A concept I have dubbed the Friendship Bracelet Chronicles:

One day Solomon gives Ik a bunch of his old human-world things that he has no need for anymore. Mixed up in that collection is a box of some very pretty colorful thread. It'd be a shame to let that all go to waste, so Ik has an idea. She's gonna make friendship bracelets!

The bracelets are made and distributed to resounding success. Mammon cries. Belphie will kill you if you spill something on his. Diavolo won't take it off even for Very Important Announcements. Simeon wears his on top of his gloves even though it's a horrible fashion statement because he loves it with all his heart.

Ik thinks that's the end of it. Boy is she wrong.

One day Satan gives her a friendship bracelet of his own. He's made it with the same color Ik used for his bracelet along with little cat-shaped beads. Cute! Ik wears it proudly.

Then Levi notices and by the next day, he's made one with a goldfish charm. Then there's one from Mammon. Then Asmo. Then Beel. Then Belphie. And for a while that's it. Until one day at the breakfast, Lucifer walks in, and presents Ik with the most fancily woven bracelet so far. It's got little music notes embroidered into it. How the FUCK

It only escalates from there. The other exchanges won't ket their best friend status be encroached on and oh you know Diavolo has to get in on this! By the end of it Ik is wielding twelve bracelets, seven on one wrist and five on the other, and the others keep bickering about whose bracelet is higher in the pecking order

Imagine the added chaos if the newspaper club and season 4 trio got in on this....

this whole thing is so cute oml

om mephistopheles meets ik and when she shakes his hand he looks down and sees diavolo's friendship bracelet practically GLOWING up at him and he's just floored by the sight of it. meanwhile raphael thinks that the many bracelets are like, combat cuffs, and is extremely on-guard until simeon explains things to him

thirteen would be the first of the new trio to make ik a bracelet after becoming friends! it's pink-purple with little skulls and butterflies and bells that make it jingle. then raphael comes along with a pretty laurel pattern (painstakingly embroidered, because he's so good at that kind of thing). eventually, not to be outdone, mephistopheles produces a very elaborate silver thread one that looks like a dragon wrapping around your wrist

ik has to continuously rotate the order she wears her bracelets in because otherwise the others start play-bickering (and then real-bickering) about which one's the favourite

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Guizhong (don't mind me re-dropping this with the fixed ones, shh)

[salemoleander]

16 for your spotify wrapped ^-^

YEAHHH songs I've loved since hearing them on WTNV in high school. Listened to it a lot working on the Solving Counting Sheep webweave

It's also on my playlist I sing along to in the shower! I use songs to keep time so my adhd doesn't make me lose track & then realize that I've just been standing under hot water thinking for 40 minutes straight lmao

[anothersuperstition]

i’m getting my ‘devotion’ finger tattoo tomorrow (technically in like 14 hours) and i’m so excited :) mostly because i’ve wanted this for nearly three years now and it’s the tattoo that’ll mean the most to me, besides the memorial piece for my friend, and i’m excited to have it there as a physical reminder of what it represents. but i’m also excited because it’s a FINGER piece, not the main knuckles but the second knuckle so it’s not as intense, but it still feels like a big step to get such a visible tattoo like that and it’s taken me a long time to work up to it and work past my family’s opinions of it all and it’s just going to be so nice and affirming and i really can’t wait. stay tuned for the big sappy story behind it in a couple days :)

[suguann]

✎. he’s nice. well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you.

tags. fem!reader, mild dubcon, possessive and obsessive behavior, simon is an excon, non-linear narrative for future chapters [18+ only]

part one | part two

He’s always been a little obsessed with pretty things, even as a child.

It only makes sense that the habit would follow him into adulthood.

He sees you once while he’s walking by the bus stop. A timid thing wrapped up in an oversized sweater and parka coat, not looking up from the little book in your lap until the bus stops before you and takes you away.

The next time he sees you, he makes sure to come a few minutes earlier, lighting a cigarette and keeping his distance while he watches you read the same book from the day before. Simon knows it’s you, the girl from the letters, even if it’s a big city. It has to be—his pretty, lonely, silly girl.

He thinks about walking up to you just to make sure, but he doesn’t really need to. The address on the envelope brought him here, and you’re the only one he’s seen wearing a university sweater in this neighborhood.

But when he hesitates too long, a boy starts talking to you, and he watches you smile at somebody else.

Simon runs his thumb over his bottom lip and takes a deep breath to fill his chest with the soothing feeling of menthol and the burning taste of nicotine, trying to relax his white-knuckle grip on his steering wheel. 

You’ll learn, he thinks, when the bus drives off, and the boy doesn’t follow you on. He’s a patient man—it’s possibly one of his finer qualities.

He lets his car idle as he climbs out before crushing his cigarette bud underneath his shoe, straightening his black tie, and crossing the street. The boy sees him and freezes, but Simon can only laugh, wiping blood off his cheek several seconds later.

You’ll learn.

He’s nice.

Well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you. But nice, you've learned, can mean any number of things: a nice laugh, a nice house, a nice job, et cetera.

But how he holds himself—tall, broad, and dangerous—hardly screams nice.

It’s funny because you don’t remember seeing him around the office before—the company, including IT, occupies only four floors in the building. 

Someone tells you he’s a friend of a friend. This initially sounds odd until Rose, the office gossip, says he’s someone rich who helps fund the company's social events. Hence, the crisp suit and the wide berth of space you’d give someone who wields their smile like a weapon. 

You quickly look away twice when you find that smile aimed at you, heat traveling up to your hairline at an alarming rate.

It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not your type. 

“Enjoying the party?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin at the deep voice so close to your ear. Careful not to spill your drink, you turn your head to find him smiling down at you with a sharp curl of his mouth.

Then he’s in front of you, eyes dark and crinkling in the corners.

“Uh, yeah. It’s not bad, though,” you squeak nervously when you realize you haven’t answered him. “It’s different from what I’m used to.”

He raises an amused brow. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He’s intimidating up close, and you take a small sip of your drink to ease your nerves. “Well, no kegs or trashy music playing, and boys with egos bigger than the room.”

The man lets out a low chuckle as he considers your honest reply, and you swear you see something ripple across his features, but when you blink, it’s gone. “I suppose that differs from top-shelf liquor and live bands, huh? Which is better?”

You shrug. “Well, it depends on who you ask.” 

“I’m asking you.”

“Honest answer?” 

He nods. 

“Neither. I don’t really care for parties.”

“Then it’s quite unfortunate that you found yourself at one tonight.” He seems privately amused, in on a joke you have no part of. Then he says, “You want to get out of here?”

“I probably shouldn’t follow a stranger home,” you tell him bashfully.

“That’s very responsible of you. Then how about I get you a drink? There’s a hotel across the street, and the bar’s not shit.”

You bite your lip, and his big, warm hand is on the small of your back before you say anything. It must’ve been written all over your face like he knew you would say yes.

He’s ever the gentleman, unlike most boys your age. Though, perhaps that’s the difference. He isn’t a boy—nothing about him can hardly be described as such. This fact becomes a bit overwhelming and more evident once he has you on your back, thighs nearly up to your ears, and held in place by a firm, intricately tattooed forearm.

His smile—almost too sharp to be nice—makes your chest do this silly thing when he says, “Let’s play a game.” 

You whisper into the night air. “What kind of game?”

“It’s simple. You tell me yes or no.”

Your brows furrow, unsure of the rules of the game. “But—”

The slap against your cunt isn’t harsh, but it’s the suddenness of it, how no one has ever thought to touch you like that, is what makes you squeak and tremble underneath him—the rings on his fingers sharpening the sting—trying to scurry up the bed, but hindered by his iron grip.

“Yes or no?”

“Y-yes.”

“There’s a girl,” and then his fingertips drop down to where you're slippery-wet and sensitive, moving in hard, tight circles until you're clenching down on a curse between your teeth. "Messy little cunt."

It's too much, you think when he plugs two fingers (feeling like three of your own) into your pussy. The muscles in his shoulders roll as he shoves his fingers in and out, batting your hands away when you try to get him to slow down. Too much, too—

“It’s not. I want you to cum like this,” he says, teasing, nudging your clit with his thumb and swirling it in tight spit-slick circles; you have no choice but to chase that bright light feeling until you cum, sticky and sweaty. 

Just like he promised you would, your orgasm is a shivery thing, molten heat, incandescent, settling in your veins until it pours out of you like liquid wax against the scratchy hotel sheets, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, his fingers curl up and press into where you’re soft and tender.

He smiles. “This is fun, isn’t it, love?”

“I can’t,” you whimper, not exactly answering him. “No more, please.”

His eyes, already pupil-fat, go dark at hearing you beg, nostrils flaring. Please, the key for the small amount of mercy he grants you as he replaces his fingers with his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to your clit and lightly sucking it into his mouth. His lips are just there, and then they’re gone.

“Say it again.”

Your response is a wet little hiccup at the back of your throat. “W-what?”

“Beg me.”

“Please.”

“Again,” he says one more time.

“Please, please, please…”

It’s all you can think to say, strung between that dreamy space and reality, that you don’t even notice him flipping you onto your tummy with ease, not until the light in the room is blotted out as he leans over you. He wraps a hand into the scruff of your neck and presses your face into the bed, the other tucked under your hips to keep them at the right angle—held down with nowhere to go.

He leaves biting open-mouthed kisses across your shoulders and the back of your neck—Simon—he manages to tell you his name from one little bruise to the next. Somewhere between the buzz in your ears, you hear him telling you that he wants you to moan it for him, nice and loud.

The haze clears a little, however, at the metal clink of a belt and the sound of a zipper coming undone before you feel his cock prodding you open—raw, without a condom.

“There you go. Lay there, and just—just give me what I fucking want,” Simon rasps as if you could actually move with his hands pinning you in place. 

There are many things you should feel: scared of his words, trapped by the rings digging into tender flesh, by his thighs forcefully pushing yours apart. The red flags look more like flashing lights at this point.

Instead, you feel wanted—your walls tighten around his cock, fluttering, pulling him deeper inside, letting him turn you inside out. A small smile buried into the pillow.

[mothers-and-fuckers-of-the-jury]

there is no guarantee the trinkets are not cursed. choose at your own risk. reblog to keep the trinket shop traveling.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Part 2 🖤I made the demon king a black man. I don’t see many Yandere POC OCs 🖤

Yandere Head Canons:

Defying Destiny

Yandere Demon King x Isekai Saintess Reader x Yandere Hero (mentioned)

TW: imprisonment, kidnapping, stalking, uncomfortable themes, sexual themes, Somniaphilia, Dacryphilia, etc.

Part 1

You woke up wrapped in the silk sheets of snow unfamiliar bed. Your eyes wild and your heart raced in your chest like a startled animal. Where were you and where was Reinhardt?! Why were there candles everywhere in this dark bedroom? Was Reinhardt planning to… oh god you were terrified.

You felt a sob rack through you when reality set in. Had Reinhardt stolen you away to live out some sort of sick fantasy instead of going through with his quest to slay the demon king? No… Reinhardt wouldn’t bring you to such a luxurious home. But who on earth brought you here?

“I see you’re awake, my delicate flower.” Your head snapped to the doorway to see the silhouette of a large man. You felt your blood run cold and a shiver run down your spine by his presence. That raspy baritone voice belonged to a stranger.

You flinched when the man suddenly slapped his clawed hands on the end of the king sized bed. Your eyes met gold for the first time and you seeped your heart stopped in your chest from pure terror. There was no mistaking who your captor was… he was the demon king.

“What’s the matter, saintess?” He chuckled as he reached a taloned finger out to hook around a strand of your hair. “Cat got your tongue?”

You felt tears stream down your cheeks when he flashed his long fangs at you. He was bewitchingly beautiful with his burnt umber skin and golden eyes. There was no doubt he was a demon and that fact terrified you. What did he want from you? Was he… was he going to kill you?

The demon king sighed at your shivering form before he moved himself to sit beside you. His hand moved to hold yours. “It’s alright, darling. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You sniffled when he began to wipe away your tears. “W… what?”

“I’d never hurt my saintess.” The demon king gave you a toothy smile. “My beautiful, merciful saintess… my salvation.”

You gasped when he brought your right hand up to his lips to press a tender kiss to the back of it. “It’s so wonderful to finally have you here with me… you’ll be safe here.”

“I’m just a bit confused about all of this…” You felt so small under his intense gaze, like he was about to pounce on you at any second. “Who are you and why have you taken me?”

The demon lord chuckled as he rose up from the bed to stand at his full, intimidating height. His curved black horns nearly added another foot to his height which made he give you a smirk. “Why I am the Demon King but you can call me Amon.”

The demon king- no, Amon, bowed his head to you. “And I took you to save you.”

You were surprised to see a tray of freshly made food in front of you when Amon snapped his fingers. Your stomach growled at the delicious sight, but you were hesitant to accept… Amon quickly caught onto your hesitance and took a bite of the food for you. “Don’t worry, it’s real and completely edible. Only the best for my saintess.”

You shyly took a bite and smiled at the taste. It was lovely…

Amon smiled warmly at you, his golden eyes studied your satisfied smile in pure joy. He was so happy to please you!

Amon ran his talons through his long black hair with a smile. “I’ll take care of you from now on. You’re safe here.”

As the weeks melted into months, Amon kept his word. None of his demon nor monster henchmen were mean towards you, unlike the hero’s party. Sure Amon was never far from you, but his company was much preferred over Reinhardt’s. Amon would bring you meals and made sure you had fresh clothes. He pampered you like a beloved pet.

Though it was never officially stated, you were Amon’s lover. And thus, you treated as such by his subjects. They’d wait for you on hand and foot. You received various expensive clothing and jewelry, they were eager to make you smile. It was such a stark contrast compared to your treatment prior…

You often gazed out your window at the volcanic city below. It was fascinating just how different monsters and demons lived from humans… so why did the humans want to destroy them so much?

You jumped when Amon entered the room to wrap his muscular arms around your waist, his nose pressed onto your shoulder. A few of his box braids tickled your skin. “I missed you so much… I just wish the humans would leave us alone. I grow tired of the hero and his party. They’re so much weaker without your barriers and healing. To think they never treated you well. What a bunch of losers.”

You turned to gaze at Amon in interest. “What is it that they’re after? Why do the humans hate your people so much?”

Amon gave you the softest of smiles, a bit of his fangs peaked out from under his lip. “Our magic stones. Monsters and demons produce enough magic stones to fuel humanity for eons… they’re worth a lot of money to humans.”

Amon pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, his gold eyes stared expectantly up at you. “You’re the only human to ever question their greed and motives. You don’t wish to be bound to a destiny thrust upon you by the world.”

Amon bent down on one knee and pressed his lips over your palms and fingers. “Join me. Together we can defy our destiny. You don’t have to be a Saintess forced to marry the hero and I won’t have to be a page in the history books.”

You felt a blush on your cheeks when he tilted his handsome face at you. “Let’s watch the world burn together.”

And now you had a choice to make. To fulfill the destiny predetermined for you or to defy your destiny.

[holybibly]

𝔐𝔶 𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔈𝔪𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 | Seonghwa x reader

Pairing: Emperor Seonghwa x Virgin Bride reader Summary: You dreamed that your love would be like a cherry blossom - tender and beautiful, but instead you are going to get married to the Great Emperor of the Park Dynasty - the cruel and depraved "Lunar Dragon" Park Seonghwa.

Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, historical!AU, arranged marriage!AU, s2l, Royal!AU, Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 11.6 k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, deflowering, corruption kink, first time, virgin kink, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, praise kink, and more.

net: @cultofdionysusnet A|N: Bunnies, as promised, I am going to spoil you with something absolutely glorious and wicked at the same time. Elegant depravity, that's what this is. Although I struggled to make this work, it has turned out to be absolutely amazing. I hope you're going to love Emperor Seonghwa as much as I love him. Have fun, bunnies, tonight is the night of the fall of the stars.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing

"Mom, I'm so frightened..." You barely whisper as you sit in front of the luxurious, heavy, gold-framed mirror as servants scurry about you, combing your long, jet-black hair and gathering the smooth, silky tresses into a traditional wedding hairstyle. Massive gold jewelry set with rubies and topaz framed your head and secured your long scarlet veil—the veil of a virgin bride. You stared at your reflection in the mirror with large, wide-open eyes full of anxiety, your hands trembling nervously as you clasped the thin silk of the white robe in your lap. Your whole body was slightly shuddering with a sense of fear and dread that bound your chest like stems of icy roses full of sharp thorns, which wrapped around your delicate, pale bones and prevented you from taking a full breath. It was so natural to be afraid, not only of the fact that in a few hours you would be the wife of a great and powerful man, a man who had power over everything in your world—the greatest emperor of the Park Dynasty, "Lunar Dragon" Seonghwa—but also of your first wedding night. 

"You should be proud of the fact that the Great Emperor has chosen you out of a million other girls, Y/N. His Majesty Emperor Seonghwa wants you and only you, and you must obey his wish without questioning and be the wife he would admire. You have my meaning, Y/N." Your mother said. She looked at the magnificent crimson robe, richly embroidered with gold thread, that the Emperor had chosen for you. The robe was magnificent, a perfect embodiment of His Majesty's exquisite taste and the ancient traditions of the ruling Park dynasty. Only surpassed by the brilliance of the great stars themselves and the hypnotic glow of Emperor Seonghwa's dark feline eyes were the stars and moons embroidered on the seemingly endless tail of your wedding gown. "After all, the empress must be a virgin when she ascends the throne; that is the tradition, and your purity and chastity will give the emperor a strong heir." Your mother's voice was calm and unemotional. It was as if she were talking about the most mundane of things, not your virginity. 

Your mother had explained to you many times how things were going to go down on your wedding night. She hadn't gone into great detail, only saying that you should do your best to please the Emperor. But now you had a good idea of what would happen when you were alone with the Seonghwa, and it couldn't help but frighten you. 

The marriage contract between your family and the ruling Park dynasty was made almost immediately after the birth of the current Emperor Seonghwa. Your family had many daughters, each one more beautiful than the one before. You never thought that you, the youngest of them all, would be the future wife of the Emperor. You had only met Seonghwa once, and then only briefly, remembering only his blowing in the wind silk robes, turquoise, and his long hair, the most beautiful shade of sakura blossom. 

But you have heard many gossipy stories about Seonghwa, and they filled you with fear and kept you awake at night. 

He was a cruel ruler—overbearing, selfish, proud, and arrogant. And Seonghwa was also absolutely insatiable; all the servants in the palace whispered about what a huge sexual appetite the emperor had and that his poor virgin bride would not be able to properly satisfy his hunger and desires. He had a huge harem of girls and handsome, exquisite young men who rotated in and out of His Majesty's chambers with an enviable frequency. Seonghwa never fucked the same concubine more than once. He could point his finger at anyone who interested him, and that person would be in his bed in no time. And tonight you will have to share his bed, and unlike the concubines who spend the night with him and then disappear into the luxurious gardens of the harem to continue their lives, you will have to stay by his side until death do you part, serving and worshipping him as your emperor and husband. And, of course, you will have to provide him with an heir—preferably more than one.

The purpose of your life is the continuation of the dynasty. 

You were intensely jealous of all your sisters, who were free to choose their husbands, who were free to marry for love, now that you would be the bearer of the unbearable burden of the crown. You never asked for it; you never wished for it. Seonghwa was extremely wealthy; he was the most powerful ruler in the world. He enslaved and conquered lands as if it were child's play. Even though the Emperor showered you with jewelry and gave you lavish gifts to marry, you didn't care. He would never love you, and you couldn't imagine a world where you could have love and desire for a man who knew nothing but the flames of war and debauchery. 

"I'm very scared of him, Mum..." You said again as you watched one of the maids place a golden hairpin set with a black onyx into your hair, given to you by one of the Seven Great Generals of Seonghwa, Choi San.

The dark-eyed demon had given it to you personally this morning, and looking at the man's otherworldly beauty, you couldn't help but think of the rumors that the generals were bound to Seonghwa not only by the battlefield and the hot blood that ran down their arms like scarlet rivers, but also by the silk sheets of the emperor's bed. And perhaps the devilish gleam in San's eyes as his plump, soft lips pressed sensuously against your wrist in a sign of respect meant that you would be able to confirm or deny the rumor in no time at all.

Right now, all you wanted was for your mother to make everything better for you, to spare you from the fears and terrible thoughts that swirled around in your head like a swirl of falling sakura petals, the color of which reminded you of Seonghwa's hair. You were a grown girl, hours away from becoming Empress, but there was a small part of you that longed to be safe and comforted by your mother. You wished with all your heart that she would be able to make Emperor Seonghwa change his mind and choose one of your sisters instead of you.

But it was impossible to do that. No one in this world had the right to go against the wishes of the great Emperor 'Lunar Dragon' Park Seonghwa. He chose you without even bothering to explain why, simply pointing his finger at you as you spent time with your sisters in the Imperial Garden during one of your family's visits to the palace. 

"She will be my Empress. She will be mine." Seonghwa said, and you saw the eyes of your mother glisten with tears that had not been shed.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Your mother whispered to you. "But perhaps the Emperor will be a good husband. If he wants to have strong and healthy heirs, he'll have to treat you well."

Your mother tried so hard to be brave for you, and you were forever grateful to her for that. In your family, it was always believed that a man had to treat his wife well if he wanted her to bear him a large number of children. And your father really did idolize her, judging by the fact that your mother gave birth to nine children. You could only hope that Emperor Park would follow this wisdom, but you really had doubts that Seonghwa would make any effort to honor and follow your family's traditions. He probably didn't care about anything except increasing his power and satisfying his animal sexual desires. 

Seonghwa was a true dragon, not only by blood but by nature. A predatory beast dressed in silk robes and glittering jewels. 

"I will do my best to please him." You murmured, and you immediately heard the soft chuckle of a maid tucking a veil into your hair. You cast an angry glance at the slender girl, and her cheeks flushed in an instant. But you could understand the reason for her laughter. What pleasure could a virgin give an experienced and lecherous emperor, whose luxurious bed was warmed by the most beautiful and seductive girls and boys in the empire? 

It was a bit of a delusion on your part to wish for that. Most likely, Songhwa would see you as just another beautiful thing in his collection, spending the rest of your life bearing children and sitting on a velvet cushion. Once the wedding ceremony was over, you would be nothing more than his next great conquest. 

"Give me your hand, My Lady." Another of the maids spoke to you politely, and you reluctantly held out your cold palm to her. The girl carefully placed a heavy gold bracelet on your wrist, engraved with a dragon with rubies glinting ominously in its eyes; it was more like a shackle, another gift from the General, this time given to you by the magnificent Kim Hongjoong. 

As you knew, Hongjoong was not only one of the seven generals and Seonghwa's confidant, but also his close childhood friend, with whom he grew up and shared everything in his life. Hongjoong was also the one who visited you more often than the other generals. He had a devilish gaze and a sly curve of blood-red lips, and he instilled in you the same animal terror as Seonghwa himself. You thought that everything he touched or said had an ulterior motive, and frankly, you didn't really want to know the true meaning of his actions, but the smile he gave you last night when he handed you the bracelet left you no choice. Sooner or later, you will find out, but by then, it will be too late to try to escape the Golden Emperor's cage. Your life, like your body, will belong to Seonghwa from now on. 

You swallowed hard as the maids began to remove the robe from your shoulders. It exposed your sun-untouched skin. 

"My Lady, it is time..." 

You could hear your mother sobbing softly as the bloody silk flowed down your body. She seemed to be holding back the tears from all of them for your sake. Your heart was beating faster, and your fingers were starting to tremble. You were only a few hours away from your inevitable destiny and several miles of ceremonial procession, at the end of which would be the Great Lunar Dragon, Seonghwa Park.

The anxiety of it all almost made your stomach hurt. 

The wedding ceremony was grand; your golden palanquin was carried solemnly down a street strewn with flowers and silk ribbons to the cheers of the crowd welcoming their new Empress. The flash of his cherry blossom hair and the firm, possessive palm of his hand that took yours before leading you up the great staircase 'to heaven' are all you can remember of Seonghwa. It was all a blur to you—the rich scent of incense and flowers making your head spin and a nervous knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. Your hands were cold in the Emperor's hot palms as you made your marriage vows. Your lips trembled as you swore to be his precious wife and to carry the burden of a great empire on your shoulders as his Empress. Tears welled up in your eyes. 

Songhwa's soft, velvety voice whispered in your ear, "You belong to me.". 

Nothing in the universe could have prepared you for his kiss - fiery, passionate, and hungry, it seemed as if Songhwa wanted to drink your soul through that kiss, to consume you whole, to turn your will and your desires to ashes. You heard the rapturous cheers of the seven generals and other cronies of the ruling Park dynasty. The Emperor's graceful palm encircled your neck from behind and pulled you closer to him. Your knees buckled, and you could barely breathe as Songhwa's long, hot tongue took possession of your mouth, wrapping around your own tongue and sliding across your palate and the inside of your cheeks. His thumb pressed lightly against the pulsing vein in your neck, your pulse racing beneath his soft fingertip as his teeth dug into your plump lower lip, almost biting to the blood. 

You wanted to scream in pain, but there were too many people around—too many angry tongues dripping venom—just waiting to start gossiping about you. So instead, you tried to distract yourself from the pain and focus on something else.

But instead, your eyes were captured by the seductive gaze of the siren belonging to none other than General Jung Wooyoung. His full, sensuous lips parted as if he were enjoying the kiss itself, the sharp tip of his tongue sliding across the soft, red flesh of his lower lip, leaving him glistening and moist. You had the feeling that his dark, almost black eyes were gliding over your body. His gaze was shamelessly undressing you, while his friend, his Emperor, was devouring your mouth with a hungry, passionate kiss. You looked away in shame and embarrassment.

When Seonghwa finally let go of you and allowed you to take a long-awaited deep breath, you felt like you were going to faint. Just a small glimpse of what awaited you on your wedding night sent shivers of fear down your spine. 

"You belong to me. Forever." Seonghwa whispers again, and you have a full understanding of the meaning of his words. Yes, you really do belong to him right now.

When it's time for you to leave the ceremony and prepare for your first wedding night, you almost start to gasp. You catch San's dark, demonic gaze as he leans over to whisper something into General Kim's ear. His words cause Hongjoong's blood-red lips to curl into an evil, almost devilish grin. Even through the many layers of heavy silk, you can feel the flames of his gaze burning through your skin. 

"Your Majesty..." You turn your head to the side, only to find yourself facing the goddess Aphrodite herself, in the form of a man. General Kang Yeosang has always held a special place in your heart. Gentle and elegant like an exotic flower, his speech always soft and soothing, and his deep, velvety voice like the call of a chamois. Seonghwa's hair may have been the color of delicate sakura petals, and his eyes may have been brighter than all the stars in the endless midnight sky, but that was just a facade to hide the lustful and cruel devil that lurked inside. Yeosang, on the other hand, in spite of his wicked beauty, was the very embodiment of an angel. You will have heard the servants of the palace call him the Black Swan of the Empire. 

Yeosan's soft and gentle nature might have reassured you and even given you some semblance of comfort before Seonghwa ravaged your body and took what was now his—your virginity. But the sensual curve of his plump lips and the hungry glint in the dark eyes of the siren, General Jung Wooyoung, who now extended his palm to you in an inviting gesture, sent an icy shiver down your spine. You rarely saw Wooyoung, and when you did, there was always a decent distance or several other people between you, so you had never felt his presence as close as you did now, and you had never been so fascinated by the sharpness of his face or the small mole under his eye, and this feeling frightened you as much as it frightened Seonghwa and Hongjoong. 

"Your Majesty, it's time for you to go." As he turned to you, Wooyoung's voice was sultry and hoarse. It made you feel as if the flames themselves were licking at your body or at the lips of your lover in the heat of a forbidden caress. 

"I...my maids should see me out. General Jung, thank you." You bite your lip nervously and look around, hoping to find your maids and avoid the two generals' eyes on you, but instead you see Seonghwa watching you intently, his head tilted slightly to the side, a few soft pink strands falling onto his gorgeous face. If he could only have a breath, it would be majestic. Seonghwa was indeed the true embodiment of the divine Lunar Dragon.

"His Majesty, the Emperor Seonghwa, has ordered us to escort you to his chambers in person." It was Yeosang's voice this time. Something about the way he said your husband's name aroused you, and not in the most pleasant way.

"I... I'm not quite sure, General Kang." You have an almost pathetic look on your face, an attempt to delay the inevitable, and to be honest, you had no desire to be in the company of any of the seven illustrious generals right now. 

Wooyoung just grinned mischievously at your words, obviously finding you very amusing. As he leaned closer, his lips almost touched your earlobe, and you could smell the scent of sandalwood emanating from his caramel skin. 

"Don't make him wait, dear. Seonghwa is an impatient and passionate lover; the longer you resist him, the harder he will be with you, and we don't want a jewel like you to be injured, do we?" 

"Stop it, Wooyoung; you're scaring her." Yeosang hisses, but does nothing to contradict the words of General Jung. 

You swallow noisily and silently place your cold, clammy palm in Wooyoung's hand, letting him and Yeosang escort you to the Emperor's quarters. The last thing you notice as you leave the Ceremonial Hall, where the noisy festivities of the Imperial Wedding will continue until dawn, is the sensual curve of Seonghwa's luscious, plump lips as he smiles at you and the glimmer of ominous rubies in the eyes of the golden dragon on the very same bracelet you wear on your arm, jingling on Hongjoong's slender wrist as he lazily waves goodbye to you.

"You don't have to worry that hard, Y/N." Wooyoung says as he pulls the heavy silk of your wedding gown off your shoulders, and you might have resented the familiarity with which he addressed you if you hadn't felt the glide of his fingertips over your bare skin. The whole situation was confusing, to say the least. Completely beyond any conscious explanation, two great generals of the Empire are now acting as your personal maids, helping you change your dress, removing your jewelry, and unraveling the intricacies of your wedding hairstyle.

Letting them treat you like a doll, undressing you layer by layer, and exposing more and more of your body to their dark gaze, you didn't know how to react or what to say. Wooyoung's breath was hot on the back of your neck, while Yeosang's cold fingers brushed over your collarbones as he removed the massive gold necklace. They continued their actions until you were left in the thin white dress that was the base of your outfit, and the only jewelry you wore was a black onyx stud given to you by San and, as it turned out, a paired bracelet from Hongjoong. 

"Everything will be alright, Your Majesty." Yeosang gently ran his thumb over your wrist, the feel of your pulse racing under his touch. He liked the fact that he was making you nervous; your reaction brought a smile to his beautiful lips. Wooyoung's arms wrapped around your waist for a second, and his firm, hot chest pressed tightly against your back. You could swear you could feel his heart beating through your skin at that moment; he was so close to you. 

"We will leave you now, my... Empress." It was almost as if he whispered the last word into your skin. "Enjoy your night." His touch was gone as suddenly as it had appeared, and you could feel the cold air of the room now caressing you as General Jung's hot body moved away from you. 

"Try to relax and let Seonghwa take care of you; I promise nothing terrible will happen to you." Yeosang leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on your cheek before following Wooyoung out of the room, leaving you all alone—completely confused, frightened, and not knowing what to expect from Seonghwa if his generals could afford to treat you like this. 

"Lunar Dragon" - the great Emperor Park Seonghwa is standing in front of you. His luxurious long hair, the colour of sakura petals, was still partially gathered on his head by long crystal hairpins. Teardrop-shaped crystals were dangling from them. He had replaced his heavy ceremonial robes with a light mantle of the most beautiful snow-white silk you've ever seen - dragons embroidered in silver and turquoise danced on the fabric like in the clouds. You can see his naked, chiseled torso, his muscular chest rising and falling to the rhythm of his measured breathing. Seonghwa's appearance is completely relaxed, but everything about him is a scream of the majesty and power he has over this world. He notices the way your eyes slide down his body, his lips curling into a satisfied, smug grin. You blush and lower your eyes to the floor.

Your heart is beating at breakneck speed against your ribs, and you have the feeling that Seonghwa can easily hear the sound. Your mother told you that you might feel aroused when you were alone with the Emperor, that you would want to touch his body, taste his lips, feel his hot hands on you, and maybe even feel his mouth on your private parts, but you... you didn't want to. You didn't feel aroused at all. You were afraid of Seonghwa, and after what Wooyoung had said to you in the ceremonial hall today, you were even more afraid of him, and no amount of assurances from Yeosang that everything would be all right could change your mind. You were afraid to even look him in the eye, and you clutched the fabric of your dress nervously in your hands, trying to calm yourself.  

"My Emperor, are you going to hurt me today?" You were so stupid, good Lord, you couldn't think of anything else to say? Apart from the wedding vows, these were the first words you'd ever spoken to him directly, and you couldn't think of anything else to say: "Will you hurt me?" For some strange reason, you expected that after the wedding you would magically feel like a different person, that after saying your vows, your animal fear of Seonghwa would disappear. It didn't happen at all. You continued to feel frightened and ignorant, and completely at the mercy of the Emperor.

You could feel the weight of his heavy, hypnotic gaze on your skin as he silently scanned your body through the thin, transparent dress that you wore. He was looking at you shamelessly and greedily, and it only served to increase your fear. Seonghwa's long fingers cupped your chin and lifted your face. The soft pad of his thumb is pressed against your lower lip. You hesitantly met his gaze, your eyes instantly held hostage by the magnetic, bottomless eyes of the Emperor. Sharp and soft, demonic and angelic, sparkling like eternal stars and impenetrable like the thickest darkness, you had never met anyone with such eyes. His almost black irises flickered like flames, as if they were absorbing the glow of the candlelight. 

"Is that the way you are supposed to address your husband, hmm? Call me by my name." Seonghwa's command to you. The sound of his voice was like liquid silk. Seonghwa grabbed your chin with his graceful hand and tilted your head even higher. You had to strain your neck to hold his gaze with your eyes. 

"M-my Emperor..." Your voice trembles, and in spite of the clear command, you say something completely different from what Seonghwa wants you to say. 

His finger presses harder against your lip, the sharp nail digging into the soft flesh in a painful way, and your mouth opens automatically. 

"I want to hear you say my name, my love. And you need to obey without questioning, darling. You don't want to upset me. Do you?" Seonghwa's tone of voice is still soft and velvety, but you can hear the small hint of a hidden threat in his words. And it is scaring the hell out of you right now. To be honest, you don't want to say his name at all. There's something about it that feels like an irreversible end, like if you say it out loud, you're going to lose any semblance of controlling your life. But there can be no disobedience, especially not now.

"Seonghwa." It's easier than you thought, but for some reason, his name still leaves a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue. 

He turns away from you, instead walking over to the luxurious bed and lowering himself smoothly onto it. The flaps of his robe swing further open, and the wide silk collar slides off his shoulders as he sits down on the soft feather bed. You can't help but admire the Emperor for a moment as strands of pink hair fall across his handsome face. 

His eyes narrowed predatorily for a second. His gorgeous, god-like face takes on a sharp, animal beauty, but it's only for a moment before his expression becomes majestically relaxed again. 

"There you are, good girl." His praise is as condescending as if he were addressing one of the many maids in the palace instead of his Empress. Without taking his eyes off you, Seonghwa pushes his thumb fully into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue's soft, slippery surface. Your eyes widen at the action. "Lick it." He gives the order again, and you weakly run your tongue along the pad of his finger, leaving a thick trail of saliva on it. Then he pulls the finger out of your mouth, takes a step back, and, looking you in the eye, pushes the wet finger into his mouth. His plump lips close in an erotic way around the long appendage as he sucks weakly on it. Heat floods your whole face at this seemingly innocent act, but when Seonghwa does it, it looks so damn lewd and lascivious.

"Strip for me." Seonghwa's voice commands you.

The cold air of his chambers was now licking at your skin, causing your sensitive nipples to tense and swell in response. Embarrassed, you covered yourself with your arms and crossed your legs slightly to hide your pussy from the dark, burning gaze of the Emperor. At that moment, Seonghwa reminded you of a huge, contented cat that had gotten the cream. He leaned back slightly on his hands on the bed, arching his back and tilting his head to the side, making the muscles in his long, thin neck tense. Seductive wasn't a strong enough word to describe the way the Emperor looked right now. Depraved? Vicious? Devilish? Maybe it was all of those things at the same time. 

Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment. His command was clear and precise, and the fear of being completely vulnerable in front of him made your heart beat even faster. Your fingers trembled as you reached for the wide waistband of your dress. It had all happened so very quickly. Your mind had barely had time for a moment's reflection. You knew that it was best to obey him and not question what he wanted. Carefully, you unbuckled the belt, and the dress slid gently down your body before it spilled out in a puddle of silk on the floor at your feet. 

"I-I... do you like it?" You asked him. Your voice was barely above a whisper. God, it was so embarrassing. Would this happen every time you shared a bed with him? You lowered your eyes to the floor, unable to bear to look at his hungry, lustful gaze. 

"Ain't you a pretty little jewel, huh? It was so sweet of you to ask me that. Now take your hands away, so that I can see the whole of your pretty body."

His words caused you to let out a soft squeak, as you were completely shocked. It was humiliating, to say the least. It was one thing to be lying naked under someone else, but it was a lot more vulnerable to find yourself completely naked in the middle of the room. But there was no way you could forbid the Emperor to look at your body the way he wanted to. The words he had spoken earlier were still running through your mind: "You belong to me." So you obeyed him once more, even though everything in your heart was telling you not to. 

"What's a gem? Are you so embarrassed already?" Seonghwa laughed grimly as he looked at your naked body; his eyes lingered on your pussy as he sensually ran the tip of his long tongue over his plump, sensual lips. "Come closer to me, darling." 

God, it seemed like it couldn't get any worse, but obviously the Emperor had thought a lot about how to make you squirm without even touching you. You took a couple of steps forward until you were standing between his legs as they spread apart. 

"Now turn around for me." His voice dropped a couple of octaves, the velvety tone getting darker and more husky. Your face turned even more red, and your lips began to quiver. You slowly turned away from him so that he had a good view of your bottom. You could feel his predatory eyes on the small of your back and his greedy gaze on your crotch. You almost screamed as you felt his hands on your hips, pulling you down with all their might until you were sitting on the bed between his legs. Seonghwa pressed his body against your back, and it reminded you of Wooyoung, but that thought disappeared as quickly as it had appeared when his hands cupped your breasts and his full lips were pressed against your ear. "You're supposed to please me, you know." He said. His hot breath flowed over the soft skin of your ear with each letter of the word he spoke. It sent a shiver down the length of your body. "Remember this." He squeezed your breasts roughly, causing you to give a soft whimper. 

"Yes, Your Majesty…" You breathed out.

Your breasts were terribly sensitive under his rough and skilled hands, and you were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you collapsed completely into his arms. You had no idea how pleasurable it could be; you'd never played with your boobs before. As Seonghwa's long fingers brushed lightly over your swollen nipples, a soft moan of pleasure escaped your open lips. 

"You're so sensitive, my little jewel, and that's what I love about virgins; you're all so sweet and shy, you blush and whimper at the slightest touch. But do you know what it is that I love the most?" Seonghwa asked you as he gently twisted your nipples with his long, thin fingers, making you moan and shake your head in a negative way. "Most of all, I love to see the look on their pretty faces when I stretch their tight little cunts with my big, thick cock. I love the sound of them moaning my name as they cum on my tongue." God, that was just too much. 

The combination of the Emperor's deep, hypnotic voice and how dirty and disgusting his words were almost made you whimper pitifully. His hands continued to play expertly with your heavy, plump tits, massaging and squeezing the flesh as his fingers tweaked and pulled at the hard, sensitive nipples. The tender skin of your breasts reddened under his firm grip. Unconsciously, you rested your head on his shoulder, becoming more and more lost in the sensation of his touch on your body. 

"But you are my shining star; you are special to me, unlike those whores who live only with the thought of being filled with Imperial sperm. They will never be able to stand in your shoes, and none of them will ever be the mother of my heir. None of them will ever be my Empress." One of his hands slid down your belly until his hot palm cupped your pussy in a possessive way. His long middle finger pressed between your labia to feel the moisture that had accumulated there. Your breath caught in your throat as Seonghwa pulled roughly on your nipple, his palm pressing even harder against your cunt. "I'm going to fuck that virgin pussy until your belly swells up with my heir." His lips brushed against your ear again, and he whispered in a sultry voice. "And maybe it won't just be mine, if you know what I mean." 

Seonghwa began to kiss your neck, leaving scorching, open-mouthed kisses on your skin. His lips were plush and moist as they glided over the sensitive veins and nerves, which flowed in bluish, translucent rivers beneath the pallor of your skin. You moaned and unconsciously pressed your pussy harder against his hand as Seonghwa's teeth bit into a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. The Emperor ran the tips of his fingers along the silken folds of your cunt, the moisture clinging to his fingers.

"I-I...oh..." Endless moans echoed through the room as Seonghwa's finger pads pressed against your sensitive clit. The light pressure on the swollen bundle of nerves sent waves of pleasure through your body. 

"Can you feel it, my star? Do you have a sense of how swollen and wet your pussy is?" The Emperor's words caused another moan to escape your lips; your mind was hazy and distant, and Seonghwa's voice was luring you deeper and deeper into the trap of lust and pleasure. "I can feel your desire, my jewel; your little cunt wants to be filled with cock so desperately." He said. Lost in the sounds and sensations of your own body, your hips twitched as his fingers began to circle your clit. Your breathing came and went, each exhale punctuated by a soft moan of pleasure. "Your virgin pussy is throbbing under my touch, my little star. I want to see you sink into ecstasy; I want to see that shy, innocent facade shatter as you cum and wriggle under my touch." Seonghwa removed his hand from your breast, then wrapped his fingers around your chin, turning your head sideways so your lips met his. "Under my tongue." He whispered before you had the taste of his kiss for the second time that night. You were so mesmerized by the feel of the Emperor's soft, luscious lips on yours that you didn't notice him pressing his hips against you.

You were whimpering into his mouth as you felt the hard, hot length of his cock pressing down hard against your arse. Your eyes widened in fear, and your mouth opened to allow Seonghwa's tongue to enter your mouth and wrap around your tongue in a sensual way.

Seonghwa's kiss to you at the wedding ceremony was nothing in comparison to the kiss he was giving you now. The impossible, hot-tight, sinful, shameful, pleasure-filled kiss that made you gasp and whimper against his lips. A low, guttural moan escaped from his lips, becoming almost animalistic in nature as his fingers slid deeper and deeper between your folds. Seonghwa growls and pulls his lips away from yours, swollen and tortured after his caresses them. You moan loudly as his fingers circle around your clit, your juices making it slick and slippery, and that just adding the stimulation. Mindlessly, you buck your hips against his touch, and he lets you do it, enjoying how desperate you are already looking. The Emperor was right. Virgins are always so easy, too pliable, and eager to be touched. And you, his precious little Empress, are no exception. 

His eyes were the trap of vice, the bottomless pit of lust and wickedness, but you couldn't look away from them. They were lustrous and almost black, like the onyx in the jewelled hairpin San had given you. They seemed to penetrate your very soul, making you shiver. A seductive grin played across his devilishly handsome face as his fingers continued to play with your pussy, making it more and more wet and in need of attention. You gasped for breath as you felt your little hole squeeze on nothing, and a thick, gooey drop of slime poured out of you. 

"Ahm-aah...Your Majesty...ahhhh...Seonghwa." You were at a loss for words and had no formula. Pleasure curled up at the core of your being, and you rolled your eyes in delight. 

"Yes, that's right, my star. Does it feel good? Do you like it when my fingers play with your little virgin pussy, when you feel them on your throbbing, swollen clit?" He asked. The silk of his voice was a breath that was a tickle to your ear.

"Your Majesty... It's... It's so embarrassing." 

His eyes flashed with pleasure, and the grip he had on your face was like a vice grip. You felt his hips jerk forward, and he pressed his cock harder against the soft flesh of your ass. His excitement was obvious. Suddenly, his fingers stopped teasing the folds of your cunt. Seonghwa brought them to his mouth instead. His eyes sparkled like jewels, seductive and dangerous, as his long tongue darted out of his mouth to lick the viscous fluid that ran down the long appendages. 

"You're sweet—maybe too sweet for your own good." Seonghwa wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you closer to his beautiful face, so that his lips make contact with yours once more. "And there's something you should know about me, my star: I have a horrible sweet tooth." Instantly, he releases you from his grip and changes position so that you're on your back, spread out on the beautiful sheets, his lithe body hovering over you. His hair is completely disheveled, long strands of pink falling haphazardly across his face, and you can see a faint blush on his cheeks and his luscious lips, swollen from kissing and taking on a darker shade. God, he looks like a true deity, and you can see why they call him the 'Lunar Dragon'; mere mortals can never be so majestic and seductive; they are not given that magnetic pull that draws everyone to this dangerous creature like a moth to a flame. 

Seonghwa slides down your body until his hands are cupped around your thighs, pulling them apart so that your juicy, wet cunt is exposed to his hungry gaze. He runs his fingers gently down your thick, soft thighs, squeezing your flesh together for a moment, the sharp tips of his nails digging painfully into your thighs, and you make a squeal at the rough caress. It was a terrible shame to lie there, completely naked, with your legs spread wide open, while Seonghwa towered over you, still fascinating and powerful, even if he did look a little disheveled. And what was even more humiliating was that you were already so wet for him—your juices were constantly flowing from your hole and dripping between your cheeks onto the silk of the sheets—but you didn't have time to think about that when Seonghwa pressed down on your clit without warning, making you gasp loudly. You almost screamed, your legs twitching in a feeble attempt to squeeze together as he skillfully circled the sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingernail lightly scraping the tender skin. 

"You have such a sweet little cunt, my star," Seonghwa whispered as he pushed your swollen labia apart to expose the soft pink inside. He bent his face over your pussy and let his hot breath flow over the sensitive flesh, causing even more fluid to spill out of your hole. "I will only say this once, my precious. You will be a good girl and take everything I give you. I will eat that sweet virgin cunt for as long as I want. If you dare to refuse, I will fuck you without any stretches at all, and believe me, unlike you, I am going to get a lot of pleasure when my cock rips that tight cunt in half. Do you understand me?"

"I-I, yes, I understand, Your Majesty." 

The first licks from Seonghwa's tongue on your juicy pussy made you arch your back and roll your eyes. The sensation was too overwhelming for your words. As soon as the Emperor had tasted you on his lips, he began to eat you with a hungry ferocity. Seonghwa plunged his tongue into your tight, wet hole, almost biting your tender, quivering folds, his teeth clawing at your swollen, sensitive clit, making you writhe and squirm as his hands gripped your thighs tighter. 

Seonghwa lived for the pussy, and he'd tasted a lot of it over the years, but your sweet virgin cunt tasted the best of all. His little Empress had the most amazing cunt of them all—a pussy that was worthy of an emperor. 

"I can't wait to get my tongue inside you, my star. Do you like it, my Empress? Tell me. Do you like my tongue in your slutty virgin pussy?" 

"Uh, huh... I... I... it feels so good... your Majesty..." You moaned.

Your viscous slime and his own saliva now coated Seonghwa's chin as his mouth pressed greedily against you, licking and lapping up all the juices flowing from you as if they were divine nectar. Your tight hole was twitching under the caress of his tongue, begging for filling. And who was he to refuse to give it to you? 

Seonghwa slid his finger into the throbbing warmth of your vagina, feeling the slight resistance of the muscles as the long appendage stretched your virgin entrance. He did it slowly, but you moaned in spite of himself as his finger filled you. His lips circled around your clit, slowly sucking at the sensitive cluster of nerves, and Seonghwa felt the warm, silky walls of your pussy tighten around his finger. 

"Y-Your Majesty... that's a lot... I" You found it hard to speak; hot excitement was flowing beneath your skin, making you helpless and pliable for him, but a sharp slap on your thigh made you cry out loudly. The mark of his hand bloomed like a rose on the milky surface of your skin. 

You continued to whimper as you responded to the rough and vulgar words the Emperor spoke to you. Not daring to take his eyes off the way your hole was absorbing them, Seonghwa added another finger. Your walls clenched around his fingers, trying to hold them in, even though the burning sensation of stretching made it difficult. To make it easier for Seonghwa to move his fingers in and out of your pussy, you tried to relax as much as possible. A lump of saliva landed on the top of your pussy and spread over your delicate folds. 

"My Name. I need you to moan out my name and nothing else, my star. I want to hear you say it out loud as I destroy you with my fingers and my tongue. Your hungry cunt swallows my fingers so well, my little 

Empress."

"Look at you, my star; you're so wet for me; you literally drip into my mouth. You are not so clean and pure any more, are you? Who would have thought that a beautiful lady would like to have her cunt licked?" The squelching of your wetness and Seonghwa's saliva as he slid two fingers in and out of your tight hole was loud and disgusting.  Seonghwa was mesmerized by the way your pussy clung to his fingers, his tongue circling the edges of your vagina, slipping inside slightly each time his fingers came out of you. 

You arch your back and feel a strange, crushing tension build up in your lower abdomen, and you clench the silk sheets in your fists. It's frightening, but somehow you have a desire for it to consume you completely. 

"Seonghwa, I... Oh God... I, I don't know, this feeling inside me..." Your breathing is ragged, with each word coming out of your mouth with difficulty. The Emperor lifts his hypnotic gaze up to you, his mouth still pressed against your pussy. His eyes are so dark and hypnotic—glimmering black stars in the lacy frame of his eyelashes—and you swear you see a flash of golden glow in them before it fades, leaving only lust and insatiable hunger. 

"My little Empress, you are about to cum for the first time, are you? Jewel, you must wait until I say so." Seonghwa growled as he squeezed the soft flesh of your thigh harder and harder, and you could already see the purple and black bruises that were beginning to form on your skin. "Your slutty cunt won't be able to come until I tell you to." You whimper pitifully at the command of authority in his velvety voice, your pussy clutching onto his two fingers. 

But Seonghwa doesn't seem to have had enough and decides to stretch you even further, trying to push a third finger inside you, causing you to squeal and jerk your hips in an attempt to avoid the stinging sensation inside you, but it has the exact opposite effect. Your abrupt movement forces his fingers deeper into you, hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside, and you gasp at the sharp sensation of delight that rips through you like a bolt of lightning. You are so lost in pleasure that you don't even notice the tip of his third finger as it enters you. 

Seonghwa is sucking on your clit in an almost lazy way, stretching and stimulating you at the same time. 

"S-Songhwa!" You almost start to cry, your eyes filling with tears from the mixture of feelings and emotions. This is too good to pass up, but at the same time, too much for you to bear. "Please, Seonghwa, Your Majesty." 

"Hmm, are you beggin' me already, my star? My little Еmpress, if you can't take my fingers, then you'll never be able to take my cock, and that is literally your only responsibility in life. To lie here in my bed and to fuck me like this. Your husband and your Еmperor. Seonghwa replies, licking the broad stripes between your trembling soft folds and pulling her fingers out of you to suck on your clenching, flowing hole. 

"I'm sorry... I'm t-trying to be a decent wife to you... I'm so sorry." You stutter. 

The Emperor slid three fingers back into your pussy, stroking your velvety walls and pressing the pads of his fingers against your G-spot as he did so. 

"You're so sweet, begging and crying like a pretty little girl, but you're not a girl anymore. You're my wife, my Empress, so be damned obedient to me and take everything I give you without objection." When he had finished speaking, his lips were around your exhausted clit again. 

"Oh, please, Seonghwa! P-please, I need...I want...please let me come...I promise I'll be so good to you." Tears streamed down your face as your whole body began to shake a little, and you lifted your hips to press even harder against Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa seems to have decided to spare you this time, enjoying how desperate and needy you look—all that crying and whining, and he hasn't even fucked you properly. But it's not over yet. 

"If you want it so badly, darling, you can cum." As soon as those words fall from his flushed, swollen lips, it feels as if your whole body is completely attuned to his every command or desire, and you arch up almost immediately, rolling your eyes and experiencing your first real orgasm on Seonghwa's long, slender fingers. Seonghwa lets out a deep, low moan as he watches you writhe in pleasure as he continues to finger-fuck you until you begin to whimper and beg him to stop.

"I'm not done with you yet, my star." Seonghwa whispers in a grim voice as he pushes his fingers into your wet and sensitive pussy. You're almost incoherent at this point, shaking with excitement as he pulls his fingers out of you and crawls up your body to pull you into a hot, dirty kiss. His lips, chin, and cheeks are wet and sticky with your juices, but he doesn't care; he doesn't bother wiping, preferring to fuck your mouth with his tongue. 

As Seonghwa pulled away from your lips and allowed you to take a full breath, the look on his face took on that predatory animal look that you'd seen on him before tonight, and it was crystal clear to you what was going to happen next. Fear and excitement at the prospect of finally losing your virginity mix together in your heart. You weren't sure if the feeling was one of relief or horror, but your body was already on edge with anticipation. You could feel your stomach twist with desire and excitement, and you were absolutely shocked that your body reacted in this way even after an orgasm. 

"And now, my little Empress, I would like to show you what it means to be the wife of the Emperor. His beautiful cock sleeve." Seonghwa gets down from you, but only to take off his silk robe and to pull his trousers down over his long legs until he is completely naked. His hair is now completely loose, long strands the color of sakura petals falling freely over his shoulders and chest. You would want to admire how beautiful his face looks framed by his pink silk hair if your eyes weren't focused on his cock pressed against his flat, embossed belly. Like everything about His Majesty Emperor Seonghwa, his cock was just as magnificent and attractive: the hard, thick length was slippery and glistening with pre-cum flowing from the dark pink head, the vein bulging with tension stood out on its velvety girth, and overall, his cock made you inexplicably want to run your tongue over it and taste its flavor. You swallowed loudly, turning your head to the side, a crimson blush of embarrassment mixing with the lust that now filled your veins with something intoxicating and forbidden and spreading across your rounded cheeks. 

Your mouth opened to say something, but you quickly shut it when you noticed that he had raised his perfect eyebrow in a slightly mocking expression. His movements were slow and elegant as he crawled across the bed towards you like some mythical beast. Long fingers wrapped around your ankle before he pulled you towards him until his body was between your spread legs. He towered over you—magnificent, almost divine—making you feel small and fragile. Strands of his long, sakura-colored hair fell around his slender body. His smooth skin shimmered like liquid gold in the soft, diffused light of the candle.

His graceful hand slid up the curve of your thigh, caressing your soft skin where the marks of his possessive touch had already blossomed, and higher and higher until it reached your full breasts. Seonghwa squeezed your breast before running his fingers around the swollen pink nipple. A pitiful moan escaped your lips as his luxurious, juicy lips connected with another hardened bud and sucked it roughly into his hungry, beautiful mouth. You meowed in response, the new kind of stimulation causing you to arch your back in pleasure and unconsciously push your breasts closer to him. He purred velvetily, flicking his tongue over your tender nipple until it was glistening and wet from his attention. 

Without hesitating, the Emperor lifted his knee between your hips, forcing them to spread further apart, allowing him to slip between them. Your hands rose hesitantly and floated in the air for a second before you found them lying on Seonghwa's strong shoulders. His skin felt warm and soft under your fingers. Your body tensed, and a small cry escaped your parted lips as you felt Sonhwa's teeth bite into your chest, and soon a mark resembling a shining crescent moon formed where his teeth had been. Suddenly, the Emperor grabbed hold of your wrists and lifted your arms above your head, restricting your movements and locking you completely into the cage beneath his body. 

"And now you would like to touch me, my little Empress?" Seonghwa grinned grimly. "First of all, I want to take what is rightfully mine, my star. Beg me for it." He let out a growl. Like a dark, forbidden caress, the low, vibrating sound of his voice went through your body. The heavy, velvety length of his cock pressed against the inner side of your thigh. You wanted to run away, to hide from that bottomless, hypnotic gaze of lust and hunger, but at the same time you wanted more of him, to feel everything you'd never felt before. The thought of how Seonghwa would enjoy you, how he would use you for his own pleasure, and how he would make you his own, subjecting you to his will and his power, made you long for that feeling. You desperately wanted to belong to him.

"Please, my Emperor, Seonghwa, take me. I belong to you." You barely managed to whisper the words, but the Emperor was able to hear them clearly. Embarrassed, you turned away from him, exposing your slender, delicate neck. His hot body merged with yours as his head sank into the curve of your neck. The swollen, wet head of his cock pressed against your trembling pussy. He was still holding your wrists tightly above your head, his sharp nails digging into your skin, but your hips were lifting to meet him as Seonghwa moved forward, weakly, and rubbed the head of his cock against your clit. A low, languid moan escaped from his throat as your soft labia parted a little, allowing his cock to slide into the warmth of your wet cunt. 

"You are so impatient, darling. And that's another thing I like about virgins—once they've tasted pleasure, they stop controlling themselves and start asking for more. Look at you; you're so desperate for me to fuck you, little Empress. Can't you wait for my cock to be inside of you?" He looks so smug, his ego shining brightly in his dark eyes, and a lecherous smile has blossomed on his plump lips. Your natural essence thickly coats his thick cock, allowing it to slide easily through your warm folds, the head of his cock touching your sensitive clit with every move he makes. He is laughing at you, at the way your body is haunting him at every moment. Once again, the Emperor is proving you to be right—you really are hungry for more. You want to feel him all over you.

Seonghwa loves the way you look underneath him—your flushed face, wet from the tears you shed earlier from your orgasm, your skin covered with bruises and his bite marks, and of course, your wet little cunt begging to be filled to the brim with his cum. Maybe that's why he can't hold himself back any longer and slowly begins to push his cock into your oozing hole. You moaned loudly as his cock pushed deeper and deeper into you, and although you had been prepared for it, the way his thick girth stretched your silky walls made you squeeze your eyes shut and feel a slight burning sensation. Seonghwa's cock was too big and thick for you, at least for now, but somehow you didn't doubt that he was going to fuck you until you could easily take his whole length at once. 

When his cock was all the way inside of you and his balls were pressed against your plush arse, he let out a guttural, almost growling, moan as he nuzzled his face into the back of your neck. Your cunt was everything he'd imagined—tight and hot and silky—divine. A small shiver of pleasure went through his body as he felt your walls tighten around his cock. Your answering moan was an unrestrained one, grateful for the hot, thick length of it as it displaced your emptiness, stained your chastity, took away your purity, and filled you instead with an insatiable need. 

He hardly gave you time to adjust to the size of his cock before he began fucking you mercilessly. Obscene sounds filled the air with each of his hard and deep thrusts, mingled with your whimpering and long moans, as well as his enthusiastic purring of satisfaction as he tormented you. His warm breath filled your mouth, forming a subtle contrast to the uncompromising demand of his tongue as it penetrated your mouth and tasted you as you moaned and whimpered. Seonghwa feels that he has become a little bit dependent on you and that he will probably never be able to satisfy this hunger that he now has for you. Your slippery pussy tightened around him impatiently and greedily, hot and wet, squeezing him so hard that Seonghwa let out a low moan of pleasure. 

Seonghwa lets go of your hands and wraps the palm of his hand around your thin neck instead, squeezing it lightly. His grip on your throat makes you gasp, and your moans are hoarse and soft.

"You are all mine." He growls, watching as his cock enters and exits your tight, pink cunt, a thick vein stretching along your silken walls with every movement of his beautiful and skilled hips. Seonghwa can't help but marvel at the way your juices are coating the velvety length of his cock as it plunges deep into you. Your hands dig into the sheets, crumpling the fabric between your fingers as you do so. "Who is your husband? Your Emperor? Tell me, my little star!" Seonghwa demands as she presses her fingers around your neck more tightly. 

"Y-y-you!" You screamed, but the sound of your voice was so distorted that it was barely audible. Your thighs began to ache from Seonghwa's relentless thrusts, but you didn't know if you wanted to ask him to stop when his cock kept hitting the most pleasurable spot inside you, making you feel every cell in your body heat up until it was white. Stars started to dance in front of your eyes, exactly the same—mesmerizingly sparkling stars like the ones in Seonghwa's eyes. "Seonghwa, that's you! You are my husband, my Emperor!"

"That's right, you treat me so well, my little Empress. I am going to fuck you until you are swollen with my heirs and until your little pussy is dripping with my cum day and night. My beautiful star, don't you think that we should give the seven great generals a taste of your divine cunt, as well? Let them saturate you, let them breed you, and let them shower you with caresses and praise. They are magnificent lovers, my star—passionate, tireless, and demonic—and they crave you so much. And here's something else you should know about me, my little Empress: I share everything with them—the battlefield, power, life, bed, and of course, I will share you with them, my beautiful wife." Seonghwa stops what he is doing and looks down at your trembling, delicate body lying underneath him. You can feel how his demonic gaze is burning into you before he grabs hold of your waist and quickly forces you down on all fours, lifting your bottom up into the air. His hand slides along the curves of your inner thighs, running his fingers over the warmth of your cunt and oozing sticky nectar. Two slender, long fingers rub your quivering hole, and you clench involuntarily at the tantalizing sensation of his fingers. 

"Say it once more." He orders you as he presses down on your clit and begins to rub it in rapid circles. You let out a shrill cry, your voice echoing through the luxurious imperial chambers. 

"Seonghwa! I am yours. You are my Emperor. You are my magnificent husband."

The Emperor let out a purr in response to your words, which sound silky and almost sinful. He pressed himself against you once more, thrusting his cock inside of you. Your face was pressed against the pillow before a graceful hand pulled your hair and pressed you against his wet, hard chest. He never stopped his hips from moving. His pace was sure and persistent, his lack of mercy cruel to your tender, sensitive cunt that had never known such sensations before, but still you moaned with pleasure. 

"You are going to cum on my cock, my beautiful star." His teeth graze across your ear before Seonghwa bites down on the lobe of your ear.   All of a sudden, his fingers find your swollen clit and make slow half circles over it, stimulating you even more. Immediately, you feel yourself tightening around his thick cock; your mouth falls open, and your lower lip begins to quiver as you feel that sweet tension at the bottom of your belly. Your orgasm is like a starburst of sensations—the pleasure exploding beneath your skin, stinging you like sharp shards of broken stars—and you almost lose yourself in the sensation. You moan so loudly that you swear the servants outside the door can hear you loud and clear, but whether it's the servants or perhaps one of the seven handsome generals, you have no way of knowing. 

Seonghwa lets go of your hair and grabs your waist instead, digging his nails into your flesh until it bleeds. The squishing sound your pussy makes every time his balls slap against the soft plush of your arse draws a deep animal growl from Seonghwa's throat, the great dragon inside him coming out. The warm, sticky liquid slowly seeps out between your thighs as you shiver and melts into Seonghwa's arms as he holds you upright, your head resting on his shoulder. But it doesn't last long. In a second, you're on your back again, facing the godlike Lunar Emperor. 

He stares down at your emaciated face and at the glistening beads of sweat on your brow. His smug smile was devilish and vicious; he spread your legs again, watching the heat of your tiny, squelching cunt as it greedily swallowed his cock. 

"Oh, your pussy is so beautiful, my star. A perfect little cunt to be filled with the emperor's cum, to be a breeding." Seonghwa's words are nothing more than the sweetest praise wrapped in pure sin. 

Holding your breath, your body feeling boneless and tired, you nod recklessly at his words.  

"You will cum again, my star. You're going to scream out my name so loud that everyone in this palace will know just how good a fuck I give you." He lifted one of your legs and pressed it up against the side of your chest. In this new position, you felt stiff and small under the Emperor's exquisitely elegant body, yet your pussy continued to greedily milk his cock. The vulgar, disgusting words that Seonghwa spoke to you in his deep, velvety voice made your head spin around. It made you feel so soft and sweet. 

Seonghwa fucked you in a deep and rough way. You could still feel the remains of your orgasm boiling in your belly—so sensitive, almost painful. As the head of his cock kissed your cervix, your body tensed, and every muscle in your body tightened like a silk ribbon. Yet, as if it's his only purpose in life, Seonghwa continues to split your heart. You roll your eyes, your lips quiver, and your chest shakes with sobs. You look completely fucked up as you lie there, taking everything the Emperor gives you.

"Who do you belong to, little Empress?"

"I-I, yours, Seonghwa..." You let out a gasp as you felt the tingling sensation of a new orgasm flutter around your pussy. Your soft walls clenched hard, almost restricting Seonghwa's movements, contracting and pulsing around his thick cock. 

"Louder!" He crashes his hips into you, your skin reddening where his thighs made contact with yours.  

"S-Seonghwa, I belong to you, only to you... ah!" 

You feel like you're drowning—falling rapidly and irreversibly into the depths of a bottomless ocean of pure pleasure as Seonghwa's fingers press against your swollen, torn clit. Your orgasm is all-consuming—your vision disappears for a second, your breath is trapped in your chest, and all you can hear is the raging roar of the blood in your veins. You scream—piercingly loud—but the sound barely reaches you. You're shaking, your whole body twisting and writhing from the wild intensity of your orgasm as Seonghwa continues fucking you relentlessly. Seonghwa's skilled fingers move over your clit, matching the rhythm of his hips, making your body shake around him as you go through blissful orgasm. Your juices rush between the two of you, spilling over and down the silk of the sheets. 

"I can't... I can't take it anymore. Please, Seonghwa..." You cried out, the tears running freely down the sides of your face.

Seonghwa leaned forward and captured your lips in an incredible kiss, his hips pressing hard against you as he began to pour his cum as deep as he could, savoring how hard and greedily your pussy milked his cock, your silky walls trembling around him. After a few moments, he slips out of your exhausted pussy, lets go of your leg, and lies down next to you on the bed, his head dropping to your chest as he cuddles closer to you, listening to your heart pounding furiously beneath his cheek. The Emperor intertwines your fingers with his own in the most intimate and tender of gestures. Still in a daze, you lie motionless on the bed and allow him to do whatever he wants to you. 

The Great Lunar Dragon is curled up beside you like a purring, cream-fed cat. He looks completely relaxed and peaceful. Your eyes wander aimlessly around the luxurious chambers, trying to collect your thoughts, but it's only for a moment before your eyes widen—frightened and in disbelief—as you meet the gaze of none other than the great, demonically beautiful General Choi San. Your soft scream attracts the attention of Seonghwa, and his eyes are lazily open to see what it is that has upset you so much. 

"Ah, Sannie, you have frightened my star." Seonghwa reluctantly gets up from you and lightly covers your body with the sheet, but it does little to help the situation, as you can feel the general's sultry gaze burning into your skin. "You should have waited until the morning at the very least; you are too impatient, do you know that?"

"My precious Empress made a sound that was too tempting for me to resist, Hwa. I am nothing more than a male slave of my most beautiful mistress." San purred, got up, and crept towards the bed like a big cat of prey. He moves clean and elegantly, and you can't help but be enchanted by what you're seeing. But the spell is broken as soon as you feel the bed begin to sag under the weight of his body. In an attempt to shrink and hide your body from this breathtakingly handsome man, you pull your legs up. Seonghwa notices this and gently puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him and giving you a light kiss on the cheek. 

"My star, you have no need to be afraid of San; he is as gentle as a kitten. You will have fun playing with him, I assure you." Seonghwa's voice was like melting honey on your skin, and you wished you could relax, but the whole situation was just wild; this is totally not how you expect a first wedding night to go. "But first we need to bathe, and then we can go and play again, my little Empress; the night is still so young." Seonghwa literally sings, letting you go and moving around the bed until she is next to San. You watch in silence as the emperor's plump, sensual lips touch the sharp cheekbone of the general for a moment before he rises from the bed and pulls a silk robe over his naked body. "I trust everything has been prepared." It is clear that the question is not directed at you. 

"Of course it has; Wooyoung and Yeosang have taken care of it." San extends his hand to you. It is the same inviting gesture that General Jung used before leading you to Seonghwa's chambers. "Come with me, my precious Empress. Your servants are waiting to please their mistress." 

[stylesharrys]

Say it Right [Roommaterry/Fratrry]

When Harry’s delinquent behaviour gets him transferred to a new college, he and Y/N (who seem polar opposites) form a strange kind of relationship. 

A/N: another old Patreon exclusive for you darlings. This is another long fic so get some snacks ready! I forgot how cocky and full of himself Harry is in this but tbh it’s just standard for Fratrry I guess lmao. I hope you enjoy besties!! <3

Warnings: slow burn, swearing, slight mentions of unwanted attention (someone trying to force kiss Y/N), smut; oral (male receiving), kissing, teasing, dirty talk, masturbation (both male and female), v v cocky Harry, consumption of alcohol, brief descriptions of a fist fight, a fair amount of angst 

WC: 23.6k

//

It’s midday when he arrives on campus. Dark, swooping curls sit on top of his head and they bounce a little from the breeze of the wind. It’s a little chilly out, that crisp May air, and he’s only wearing a green t-shirt and some black running shorts, but he doesn’t feel the bite of the chill.

He’s taking his time to look around the parking lot. There are a few nice cars — an Audi and a Range Rover a little closer to the main building, and Harry supposes they belong to the ones living off their Daddy’s credit cards. He scoffs to himself.

His tattooed arms and hard-set jaw are quick to catch the attention of a few girls passing by, whispers slipping past their pretty lips and Harry can’t help but smirk to himself. He knows the effect he has on women, specifically their nether regions and he’s known to use it to his full advantage.

But being unbelievably good-looking and a known Bad Boy doesn’t always get him what he wants. Which is why he’s scuffing his feet as he walks into the Administrator’s Office of yet another prestigious college. He’s still confused about how he got here in the first place after losing his scholarship back at NYU, but he supposes it probably has something to do with the fact that his Aunt is the Dean of the place.

He knows he’s getting unfair treatment, that others work their fucking asses off for this place to even look their way, but he’s not exactly bothered by it. He’s getting what he wants for half the work and isn’t about to bitch about it.

“Harry Styles. I was told to come here and get my schedule and key.” He huffs out, solid arms folding over the high desk in the reception and the young girl behind it stares up at him for a moment. 

She’s completely caught off guard, saliva stuck in her throat at the sight of him and she shakes her head and stares back down at her computer, typing away and trying to compose herself.

Harry can’t help the arrogant smirk that appears on his lips. She’s pretty, really pretty, actually. Big brown doe eyes and long wavy hair. Her skin looks soft, lips plump and glossy and he wonders what they’d feel like wrapped around his co—

“Harry Styles as in… Cathy Styles’ nephew?” 

And there it is, the question of the day. He purses his lips and nods his head, noticing the way her pretty eyes light up and she beams a bright smile. “You’re all everyone’s been talking about.” She tells him, bottom lip caught between her pearly teeth and Harry grins, condescending.

He leans forward a little, raising his brows just enough for it to be suggestive and with a ducked head and a low voice, he tells her, “It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

And he’s pretty sure he can hear her gushing beneath that stupid fucking desk.

Her cheeks brighten beneath the layer of makeup painting her skin and Harry’s eyes trail from her face to her chest. He bites at his own lip at her perfectly round tits just spilling out of her blouse and he wonders how that wasn’t the first thing he saw.

Before he can say anything else, his name is being called in an all too sharp and familiar tone to his Mother and he stills, turning with a sigh. Catherine Rose Styles stands across from him with an unamused glance and arms folded across her chest. She’s in a pantsuit that Richie no doubt got her for her birthday this year and her long hair has been cut short since the last time he saw her.

“Hey, Auntie Cathy.” Harry grins. 

Though he’s smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world, his heart is stammering in his chest because she’s the one who will make or break his future, and though he won’t admit it, he’s not prepared to be deemed a failure by his own family.

“Harry.” She greets, voice stern but he knows she’s trying to be professional, knows she really just wants to scoop him up in her arms and he’s thankful for the former.

Cathy eyes the receptionist sceptically and clears her throat. “Danielle, close your mouth.” She quips and the girl blushes bright red, staring at her computer screen and sinking further down in her chair a little.

An amused smirk tugs at the corners of Harry’s lips and he follows his Aunt out of the reception and into her office. It’s fairly sized, a big bay window behind her desk that looks out to what Harry presumes is the quad. Her walls are decorated in a few certificates and diplomas and there are at least five bookcases that stare back at Harry, almost mocking him for not being able to pronounce the titles even if he tried.

“Glad you showed up.” Cathy begins, taking a seat behind her desk.

Harry watches her for a moment, the way her perfectly manicured fingers point to the chair opposite her and he lets out a short huff of breath and takes the seat.

“Didn’t really have a choice,” he grumbles and he knows he’s being sour. 

Cathy gives him a pointed look—the same look his mother gives him when he’s said something he probably wasn’t supposed to—and folds her arms over the top of the desk.

“You can cut out the attitude, I’ll tell you that right now.” She tells him, voice calm and expression void. 

Harry isn’t sure if that’s scarier than her being angry or disappointed, but he knows he doesn’t want to find out.

He sighs and rolls his head back, pinching his eyes closed. He knows that his Aunt is stubborn and strong-willed, something she and Richie share very clearly, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise to Harry but he can’t help but feel he’s at home again, being moaned at.

Catherine Styles is not a force to be fucked with. She’s lethal when needs to be and still knows how to have a good time. She was the troublemaker out of her and Harry’s father growing up, and maybe that’s why Richie sent him to her because he knows she can relate to him and maybe talk some sense.

She watches her nephew for a moment as he tries to calm himself down. He isn’t angry, they both know that. But he’s fucked off and tired and just wants to get on with whatever the fuck he needs to get on with. Cathy gets the hint when he rolls his head back down to face her, eyes a little darker than before and if she squints just hard enough, she’s sure she can see them glossing over.

She swallows back what she wants to say and reaches for a sealed, brown envelope, twisting it and her fingers gently push it across the desk so Harry can reach it. 

He furrows his brows at her. 

“It’s your schedule and campus map. I already got you the books you’ll need. The receipts are in there, you just have to pick them up from the library.” She explains.

Harry’s frown only deepens when he pulls out the map and receipts and a little silver key falls out, clanking against the table and the plastic of the little keyring bounces as it does so. He picks the dainty thing up between his thumb and forefinger, inspecting it like he’s never seen one before.

The little trinket is white, Greek blocked writing in the centre of it. ZΘΨ. Harry lets out a humorous chuckle and dangles the keyring in his Aunts face. 

“You’re housing me in a Frat house? You sure that’s the best decision.”

He’s grinning, knows exactly what kind of parties and girls that can be found at Frat houses and he thinks he might’ve hit the jackpot and his Aunt is too naive to see it.

“It’s not a Fraternity, and I’m not babying you, Harry. You get three strikes, and you’re out.” She tells him, snatching the key from his grasp and throwing it at his chest. 

He doesn’t feel the impact as it sits in his lap, and all he can do is raise a brow.

“Now go to the house and get yourself settled in, I have a University to run.” She tells him, and just like that, he’s back in his Jeep, key in his hand and he stares at little Greek fraternity symbols for a moment too long. 

He doesn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, it’ll be great chances for drunken parties and getting his dick sucked, but on the other, he’ll have to live with other people and something about that just doesn’t sit well with him.

Nevertheless, he follows the map Cathy gave him to the destination of his new temporary home that she’s circled with a bright red marker. The little roads that surround the campus are quiet for this time of day, and Harry begins to wonder just who he was going to be moving in with. One thing was for sure, he can’t handle any fucking jocks. No way.

It’s even quieter when he pulls up outside of the house, and his Jeep is drowning in its enormous shadow. He can tell it won’t just be him and a couple of other guys, and he knows his Aunt is already cackling to herself at the thought of his face right now.

Harry groans and kills the engine anyway, rubbing a hand through his tousled hair. He’s pulling his keys out as he opens the door, hurling out of the Jeep and slamming it shut.

He wants to delay this whole process as much as he can, but the air is getting colder and Harry would much rather be inside than stuck in the cold and the rain when he notices the looming storm clouds above him.

With a huff, he rounds the back of the Jeep and pulls the trunk door open. He’s hauling out three duffle bags of clothing to start with and tugging out his slick black guitar case. He holds the bags in one hand and gently places the case on the curb, closings the trunk and picking it back up.

He’s kicking his booted feet against the ground as he slowly steps onto the path. The veins in his arms are protruding from the weight of his things, and he’s fairly certain his biceps might actually tear through his shirt at any given moment.

The closer he gets, the more the house looms over him. It’s bigger as he walks the steps of the front of it, and the whole ordeal is just a little more daunting than it was when he was sitting in his car.

Harry doesn’t do neves, never has and likely never will. When he was growing up, his mother always told him ‘nerves mean you care’, but as he approaches the front door, he feels something unfamiliar in the pit of his stomach.

He’s sure it isn’t nervous, though. Blames it on the fact that he hasn’t eaten in over seven hours and his mothers’ persistent warnings just an hour before he left for this hellhole. He’s not upset with her, never could be, but he wishes she stood up for him more when his father sent him away.

He knows it was a long shot to move to New York for college, and he knew it was a matter of time before he lost his scholarship and got kicked out. It all came tumbling down and Harry was willing to stay put but when his father showed up and dragged him back home, he had no choice but to listen and attend Mildred University. .

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the chatter from the inside of the house, and it’s only when he looks up from his feet that he finally notices the front door is open and a tall blond and short brunette are standing by the threshold.

The blond clears his throat and Harry sets his bags and guitar by his feet on the porch. “Harry, right?” He asks and Harry nods his head with slightly squinted eyes.

Niall Horan, a history and economics major, holds his hand out in greeting and offers a grin. “Niall. Nice to meet you.” Harry eyes his hand for a moment before nodding his head a little and shaking his hand.

“Yeah, you too.” He’s weary when he speaks and his eyes soon flicker to the short brunette by his side. 

She’s got a cute button nose and soft brown eyes, long straight hair and half of it sits in a bun on top of her head. Harry can’t help the cheeky grin that sneaks its way on his pink lips and he sees the way she blushes under his gaze.

“I’m Maisee.” She introduces herself with a little wave. She’s nibbling on her red-stained bottom lip and her dainty fingers play with the sleeves of her tousled blouse that’s tucked into her denim shorts.

He nods and swipes his tongue out against his lips. “Harry.” He repeats his name, momentarily forgetting Niall is still standing there until he clears his throat again and Harry finally acknowledges his presence for more than just twenty seconds.

“You want some help with your stuff?” He offers, pointing to his bags and Harry nods, watching as Maisee wanders off, grinning back at him over her shoulder.

Harry bites his bottom lip and grabs his guitar and other duffel bag and follows Niall inside his new home. 

“Don’t get any ideas with her. She’s great, and all, but she’s bad news.” Niall tells him gruffly. Harry hums, not really taking the information in, too busy looking around.

The walls are a light, dusty grey and aesthetically white and black furniture decorate the emptiness. He’s shocked at the cleanliness of the home and with furrowed brows, he follows Niall through the foyer and into the equally clean kitchen.

“Dude, why is this place so clean?” Harry asks, nose slightly scrunched up when he notices three more people in the room. 

He’s standing beneath the archway as everyone stops what they’re doing to look at him. Niall sets his bags down beside the centre island and lets out a soft laugh.

“That’d be Y/N.” Niall laughs out. 

He rounds the island and searches through the fridge for two beers, handing one to Harry who takes it thankfully and pops it open. He frowns and takes a sip.

“Who’s that? Your maid?” He quips and he doesn’t mean it rudely, for once. He’s curious as to how a Frat house is so clean and organised, and by the looks of Niall, he doesn’t seem one to have his shit together.

Maisee laughs from her place at the stove. She’s stirring a large pot of pasta and Harry presumes that maybe she’s on lunch duty. Is that a thing in this house? 

“No, she’s a student and she lives here. Her OCD flares up sometimes so this place is always spotless.” She explains, not bothering to look over her shoulder and Harry can’t help but frown to himself over her sudden sense of coldness.

“You mean… girls… live here?” He asks. 

He knows he sounds like some hormonal teenager but he’s more than shocked that his Aunt would allow him to live in a house with a practically endless supply of pussy, whenever he wanted it.

“Yeah. It’s only Y/N, Maisee, and Raegan,” Niall begins to explain, pointing to the blonde that sits at the table, head in a book. She waves a hand over her head, looking up for a couple of seconds to offer Harry a smile.

He nods his head in affirmation and looks back to Niall. “Then there’s us guys. Me, you, Dean,” he points to the guy that’s reading a magazine. His hair is styled back into a quiff and he’s wearing skinny jeans and a shirt.

“There’s Mackey, he’s at a class right now. And Oliver is on a grocery run.” Niall explains. 

Harry takes a moment to nod his head. He knows there’s no use even trying to remember these names, knows he’s not going to be talking to them much.

“Where’s Lily?” He asks as he eyes the group. Ah, wrong already. Niall stifles a laugh and shakes his head, noticing the death glares that Raegan seems to be sending him over the top of her book.

“Her name is Y/N.” She corrects him, brows slightly scrunched and as quickly as she interjected, she returns her attention back to her book. 

Harry raises a brow at her boldness, then he realises that none of them actually know who he is and maybe he’s a little relieved about that.

“Y/N is at work. She picked up a double so she should be home for about 10 p.m., in the meantime, let me show you to your room.”

//

It’s 11 p.m. and Harry’s all unpacked in his new bedroom. The walls are bare and his closet is only partly full, but he’s unpacked. He’s got his laptop set up on his desk and he’s made his bed to the best of his ability. His toiletries are in his bathroom and the steam is still pouring out of the room from his shower twenty minutes ago. He supposes next time he’ll open a window.

He’s dressed in a pair of gym shorts, laying back on his bed with his back against the headboard and his acoustic guitar sitting in his lap. He’s strumming softly at the strings and he thinks he might’ve found a melody until a soft tapping on his door stops him from following the feeling.

He sighs and places the guitar in his bed, quickly tugging on a black t-shirt and pushing back his wanton curls when he opens the door to her.  

She’s pretty, he supposes. Her hair is thrown in a ponytail and her rounded eyes sparkle as they stare up at him. She’s got full lips and a little crook in the bridge of her nose. Her face is void of makeup save for a little mascara and brow powder, and Harry can see the little blemishes that scatter her cheeks.

She’s short, too, Harry reckons no taller than 5”7 and her left front tooth slightly overlaps the right. She’s got that good girl look about her and for once, Harry’s not interested in corrupting it. He raises his brow and she drinks him in. 

He’s tall and lean, muscular, she’s sure and his biceps are begging to tear through his shirt. His jaw is sharp and skin clear, and his lips look so soft and pink. What gets her most, are his curls. They’re fluffy and wild and she can’t help but want to run her fingers through them.

Maisee told her he had a bad boy vibe, but right now, she can’t see anything other than soft. 

“Welcome to Mildred University,” she greets him softly, and he’s pleasantly shocked by her voice. 

It isn’t as sickeningly sweet as he had thought. It’s a little raspy and velvety at the same time and completely unexpected to Harry.

“I’m Y/N.” She introduces herself with a hand out for him to take. 

He does, hesitantly. Her skin is soft on his and she beams brightly up at him, despite just having worked a fourteen-hour shift on three hours of sleep and a slice of dry toast from this morning. Not to mention she still has to study for her test tomorrow morning.

“Harry.” He greets, smiling through pursed lips and she releases his hand. 

She smells like flowers and if it wasn't for the florist apron covering her front, he would’ve thought she'd been laying in a field all day.

“You work in a flower shop?” He quips, and suddenly she’s so cliche. 

A good girl working in a flower shop, what a surprise. Y/N stills at his tone and retracts her hand, fiddling with her fingers and she retracts her gaze from his face.

She clears her throat and looks back up at him. “Yeah, gotta pay the bills somehow.” She jokes, trying to lighten the mood, but she knows he’s probably going to be a dick about it and tease her.

He nods. “But we’re all living here for free.” He retorts. 

Y/N sighs and closes her eyes for a moment. Yes, they’re all living there for free. Maisee’s father is the owner of the building and promised her and her housemates could live free of charge, providing there’s no complaints or drugs.

She scratches her forehead. “Yeah, but we have cars to pay for, groceries, books, supplies… you know.” She trails off and Harry can tell by the way she doesn’t look him in the eye that she’s hiding something. 

“And besides, I like flowers.” She tells him and this time her voice is a little harder and there’s a tick in her jaw.

Part of him wants to tease her and he isn’t sure why. Maybe it’s just his inner dick showing but the way he’s speaking to her makes the young woman feel uncomfortable and she feels so unworthy to be under his gaze.

He’s not bothered, really. But his Aunt's words continue to play in his head and he knows he has to keep out of trouble and not start upsetting people. Three strikes and he’s out, and he isn’t about to get his first one on his first night here.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say hello,” Y/N concludes, her stomach breaking into an uneasy herd of elephants and she’s sure she can taste the bitterness he’s protruding.

She spins on her feet before he can say anything else and Harry watches her disappear into the room next to his. Great, he thinks. We’re neighbours. With a huff, he kicks his door closed and bounces back on his bed, guitar sitting back in his lap as he plucks inspiration from nowhere.

From the other side of the wall, Y/N let’s out a breathy sigh and closes her bedroom door. She’s leaning against it as she tugs off her apron and unties the hair band in her hair. 

She struggles to calm her breathing and she isn’t sure why. She’s used to being intimidated by other people, but he’s doing it on a whole other level. Her body feels hot and her cheeks are flushing, and she’s certain she can feel a wetness between her legs.

“Cut it out, Y/N.” She tells herself, shaking her head and taking another deep breath. She’s stripping her clothes when her phone goes off and she quickly picks it up as she steps out of her shoes.

Maisee: Total hottie right?

Y/N giggles at her friend and she can’t help but nibble on her bottom lip. She’s running the water of her shower, waiting for the temperature to heat up as she quickly texts Maisee back.

Y/N: Gonna have to agree on that one lmao

Y/N: Don’t get any ideas, though! He’s our roommate and you can’t go whoring around with him, it’ll make it awkward for all of us here :/

Maisee: You’re only saying that cause you secretly wanna hop on that dick. God, you’re such a slut!

Y/N stifles out a laugh and shakes her head, phone thrown into the bed and she climbs into the shower. The water’s hot on her aching body and she takes her time to let the water run over her.

Her puffy nipples pearl beneath the hot water and she runs a hand through her hair, brushing it from her face. She feels hotter than before, chest heaving and she cups the swells of her breasts before her hands slowly travel down the expanse of her stomach, and she can’t help but wonder what it’d feel like if his curls were ticking her skin like her fingers.

Harry stills on his bed at the sound of a strange noise coming from the other room. He frowns, resting the guitar against his nightstand and slowly makes his way toward the wall opposite him.

He can hear the shower running and he knows it’s Y/N. He’s about to roll his eyes and wander off when he hears a soft groan and sharp intake of breath. His eyes widen and cheeks flush and he hears Y/N let out another shaky moan.

She’s showering and she’s touching herself. Harry gulps, entire body heating up and he’s not sure if his mouth is watering or if it’s growing dry. He feels a twinge of something familiar between his legs and by the time he looks down, there’s a small tent forming and he’s straining in his boxers.

Oh fuck.

//

Y/N Y/L/N is a people-pleaser. She doesn’t know how to say “no” and often finds herself swallowing back her discomfort to put others well -beings first. She’s always been like it, gets it from her mother, so it’s no surprise that she’s been dragged into yet another one of Maisee’s brilliant ideas.

“And you’re not skipping out halfway through, either.”

Y/N sighs to herself as she stacks the red solo cups. It’s Friday afternoon and her and Maisee are getting the house ready for Harry’s surprise party tonight. A week has passed since he moved in and after a little planning and cash spent on drinks, it was well and truly underway.

“I’m not gonna skip out. I already told you.” Y/N speaks softly, though she is wondering if maybe she’ll be able to sneak off toward the end of the night so she can get a head start on her paper due next Wednesday.

Maisee already seems to know what she’s thinking and she takes the plastic cups away from her fiddling hands. “I mean it, Y/N. As much as I love you and your anti-socialness, you need to get out a little more. And besides, I invited Chris, so you have to come.”

And just like that, Y/N’s gaping at her best friend. “Why did you invite Chris!?” She shrieks and Maisee lets out a scoff like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Um, ‘cause he’s into you… duh.” She frowns, twisting the bottle of liquor on the counter to read the names.

Y/N frowns to herself and lets out a shaky breath. “But I’m not into him. He freaks me out, Mais,” Y/N argues but she knows her pleads are falling on deaf ears. 

Maisee waves her off and shakes her head. As much as Y/N loves Maisee, she doesn’t love her attitude right now.

“He just likes you,” she argues back and Y/N has to take another deep breath in an attempt to shake off the anxiety that she can feel crawling up her chest. 

It’s typical Maisee, really. She knows how Y/N struggles with her anxieties and she’s always been one to show her the “tough love” side to it, and in the past, it’s worked. But now, all Y/N can feel is her chest caving in and her hands growing clamming and she knows she’s on the verge of a panic attack.

“One… two… three,” Y/N finds herself whispering under her breath, bottom lip quivering. 

“Blue,” she whispers, eyes darting around the room as she searches for three blue things. 

Mackey’s book, couch pillow, Harry’s shirt. She stills. Harry’s shirt? Harry. 

“Harry.” she squeaks out, hand reaching to smack Maisee in the side.

He’s standing in the doorway, dark hair tucked beneath a baseball cap that Maisee thinks looks like pure sex. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Harry! What are you doing here?” Maisee giggles out breathlessly. 

Y/N fights back the need to roll her eyes at her best friends whorish antics and Harry nibbles down on his lower lip.

“I live here… remember?” he jokes half-heartedly and she almost gushes at the sound. Y/N clears her throat and subtly nudges her friend’s side. 

“Thought you had classes till seven?” Y/N interjects, though she knows there’s no real use in lying about what they’re doing.

“Got cancelled.” He shrugs, wandering into the kitchen and grabbing a deep red apple from the fruit bowl. 

Y/N watches as he takes a bite out of it and lets out a sigh. She isn’t sure if she’s thankful she’s able to stop secretly setting up his party, or if she’s angry that he didn’t come home sooner.

“So… what’s all this?” He asks, hands gesturing to the mass of alcohol and party food and all Y/N can do is stare at his stupid head and wonder why he’s hiding his hair under that stupid cap. 

Before Maisee has the chance to fabricate a story, Y/N is blurting out that it’s his surprise party. Harry’s quirking a brow and taking another bite of his apple when Maisee sends her friend what can only be considered a death glare, but Y/N doesn’t exactly care. 

She doesn’t want to go to the party and she’s hoping that maybe Harry will force her to call it off with that stupidly charming smile.

“A party sounds fun.”

//

It’s warm and it smells. Y/N’s tucked herself in the kitchen the entire night as she’s kept away from the ruckus of horny college students. She’s got a cup of lemonade in her hand and she tries to fight back the urge to run upstairs and lock her door behind her.

The party has been in full swing for well over two hours now and Y/N is more than eager to leave. She hasn’t seen Harry since earlier this morning and she isn’t even sure if he’s actually here. Maisee is off with her second guy of the week and Y/N isn’t sure where the rest of her housemates are.

She’s been avoiding Chris all night, running out of the room whenever he enters it and she knows she’ll have to face him at one point, but that won’t stop her from trying to delay it. 

“Aye, Miss Y/N Jane, what are you doing here all on your pretty lonesome,” a husky voice booms through the kitchen and Y/N looks up from her cup.

Oliver and Mackey come bolting into the room, arms around their shoulders and they struggle to hold their drinks and keep their stability. Y/N’s heart warms at the happiness on her friends’ faces and she giggles to herself at just how far gone they seem.

“Too loud out there,” Y/N shrugs, welcoming the warm hugs that the young men give her. 

Mackey and Oliver Belford: aka, the hottest twins on campus but the brothers Y/N wishes she had. They both circle her and hold her close until she’s squished between them.

“Want me to make them be quiet?” Mackey asks, ruffling a hand through his golden locks and Y/N stifles out a laugh and shakes her head. 

“S’Okay, Mack. You two should go back in there, though. Go have fun!” She tells them and though they don’t mind staying with her, they wander off anyway and blow a kiss as they leave the room.

“Aye! Mackey, Olly!” Niall shouts out to his friends from across the room. 

He’s wearing a green tee with little holes decorating it and a pair of skinny jeans that sit low on his waist. The twins approach him with grins, hollering out greetings to the tall curly-haired man with them.

Harry’s having a good time, and to say he’s surprised is an understatement. He’s got a beer in his hand and a light blush to his cheeks. He knows it’s from the alcohol and the attention he’s been receiving all night, and he’s already got his eye on a pretty little brunette that’s been eye-fucking him from across the room for the past thirty minutes.

“Boys,” Harry greets them, and it’s like he’s known them for years. 

Mackey works with Harry at the garage on Thursdays and Saturdays, while Oliver majors in music and is tatted up to his shoulders, something Harry took a quick interest to and it wasn’t long before he was friendly with all the guys in the house.

“Styles, let me tell you something,” Mackey slurs as he slings his heavy arm over Harry’s shoulder, “I think you’re pretty cool, for a bad boy, and that little piece of ass over there is totally begging for it.” He snorts out a laugh and Oliver can’t help but shake his head and frown at his brothers choice of words.

Harry hums and sets his drink down on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. He’s enjoying himself, and maybe it’s because of the alcohol or the fact that he knows he’s getting his dick sucked tonight.

“Bro, I can’t believe you’re from Holmes Chapel and we’ve never met before. I used to visit my aunt every summer there.” Niall laughs out. 

He and Harry have grown closer over the past week, learning that somehow, they have a lot more in common than they thought.

They’re both into music, both like beer and parties. They share other smaller interests, too. Niall likes bikes and Harry fixes them. Niall likes tattoos and Harry has plenty. It’s definitely a blooming bromance and for once, Harry isn’t all that mad about it.

He’s kept to himself, aside from spending a few hours hanging out with Niall here and there. He supposes maybe one day he’ll open up a little more to him, but for now, hanging out in the present is enough, and he isn’t ready to drag his past into things.

Harry shrugs and stifles out a laugh, not wanting to tell him that he was in with the wrong crowd and was the reason for so many headlines that met the papers. 

“Guess our paths just never crossed,” he agrees, and he’s thankful for that. It’s only been a week and Niall is already more solid than Harry’s previous ’friends’.

“Gonna go grab some pizza.” He tells them, offering Niall a pat on the back and a tight-lipped smile to the twins. 

Harry weaves through the groups of people he doesn’t know, paw-like hands coming up to push back his hair. He breathes out a small sigh as he enters the quiet kitchen. The surfaces are smothered in splattered pizza slices and sticky alcohol and the thought of cleaning it in the morning gives Harry a brief headache, but he’s sure Y/N would have a whale of a time.

He’s unsure as to what his problem is with the girl but something about her irks him. No one is really that well put together or polite and kind. 

He hears muffled voices and hums from the utility room on his left as he wanders to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, no longer in the mood for pizza, (not that there was any left anyway). 

He laughs to himself under his breath, the couple in the room no doubt too eager to wait until they’re home, and Harry’s about to leave the kitchen until he hears a desperate whimper and he stills.

He’s not so sure if it is a bunch of horny college students anymore when the pleas of “stop, I mean it,” come out louder and clearer, desperate and serious. His eyes widen and for a moment, his heart stops, but the second a heartbreaking sob sounds from behind the door, he’s kicking it open before he can even think.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

There’s a blond dude hunched over a young woman he’s got cornered against the sink. Her hands are frantic as she tries to push him away but she doesn’t have to try much longer when Harry tears him off her and sends a quick jab to his nose. It isn’t until the woman looks up that Harry’s stomach drops to the pit of his stomach.

Y/N.

Niall comes bolting into the utility room, eyes frantic and he quickly pieces together what just happened. He dags Chris out by the scruff of his neck when Raegen and Maisee come racing through the door, standing on either side of Y/N as they escort her out of the room and up to her own.

Harry watches as they pull her away, catches sight of her wet cheeks and mascara smudged eyes. She’s shaking with terror and embarrassment and Harry has to stop himself from calling her name or pulling her into him. As he turns around to the kitchen, a large crowd has formed and the music’s stopped.

He feels sick, completely and utterly disgusted. Guilt sits just as heavy in his stomach — slightly ashamed to have been so rude to her previously. That initial dislike to Y/N has quickly began to dwindle when he finds himself angry at everyone gathering around the scene. 

Harry lets out a growl and that once carefree persona is long gone. “What the fuck are you all looking at? Party’s over!” He roars out and he isn’t sure if it’s in anger or something else. 

The partygoers are quick to scramble and suddenly, he’s left alone with his thoughts and a completely trashed house.

Niall, Mackey and Oliver are locking up and making sure everyone left, Dean passed out on the couch with a bottle of wine cuddled into his chest and Harry wonders for a moment how the whole ordeal hadn’t woken him. He supposes he still has a lot to learn about his roommates.

He takes to the stairs, jaw set hard and he’s almost certain there’s steam oozing from his ears and nose. All he can think about is her. He’s desperate to know if she’s okay, if he hurt her… but he doesn’t know what he’d do if he had. His shoulders slump as he walks down the hallway, eyes widening when he sees both Maisee and Raegen leaving Y/N’s bedroom with pursed lips.

“Is she okay?” Harry rasps out and he doesn’t know where this sudden hesitation and worry is coming from. 

Maisee looks up at him with a slightly tilted head, like she’s trying to read what his angle is. 

Raegen sighs and shrugs. “She just wants to be alone.” 

Harry frowns. “So you just left her? After what just happened?” he quips, voice raising before he can even process what he’s said.

Maisee squints at him, wants to know what his deal is and Harry is quick to notice her attitude toward him. 

“Sorry.” He quickly apologises for his tone, and it’s yet another thing he can’t seem to understand why he’s doing. 

The girls walk past him in silence and Harry watches as they both enter their own bedrooms, closing the doors behind them.

As he turns his head, he stares at Y/N’s door. He doesn’t know how long he stands there for but after a few minutes he can hear her cries through the thick wood and he just wants to scream.

She’s shaking as she sits in the corner of her room, and she tells herself she’s being stupid, that she shouldn’t be so upset about this. But she is, she’s fucking distraught and she has to remind herself that she has every right to be. She was violated and she doesn’t even want to fucking look at herself.

Harry stands there until her cries quieten down to silent sobs and his fists clench by his sides. He forces himself to move, to turn on his heel and go into his bedroom that’s right next to hers. He pretends he doesn’t hear her crying herself to sleep. Just like she pretends she doesn’t hear him leave his room an hour later to clean the house for her.

//

He’s sweating.

There’s dirty oil smothering his bulging biceps and his short sleeves have been rolled up, sitting on his shoulders. His hair is a mess, slicked back with gel and sweat but the girl in the sunflower dress thinks he looks like sex.

He’s meant to be working, refitting an engine, to be exact. He isn’t, though. Instead, he’s chatting up Corina, his boss’ niece and if it wasn’t for Mackey working across the garage, he’d have her bent over the table with that pretty little dress hiked up her waist as he pounded into her pussy.

She’s perfect, he thinks. Gorgeous skin, innocent eyes that he knows will be the death of him, and the most mind-blowing hourglass figure that he can even make out beneath her loose fitted dress. He can only imagine how juicy those tits must be.

He doesn’t bother trying to hide his clear arousal toward the young woman, and if anything, he makes it clear as day when Mackey looks over and the tall boy is pressing himself against her, a taunting smirk on his lips as he whispers something filthy in her ear.

Mackey shakes his head and clears his throat, supposes he should probably help a brother out. “Yo, Harry,” he calls out, watching as Harry looks over Corina’s shoulder to see him. “Go take your break. I got it down here.”

He doesn’t bother hiding his grin as he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her into the building, giggles slipping past her lips when he guides her into the bathroom.

He’s shoving her against the door, lips hot on her neck and she sighs out in sweet relief. Her skin tastes like strawberries and Harry can’t get enough, swears it’ll be the death of him. She tugs on his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp, knows they’re gonna be untamable, but at this moment, he can’t seem to care.

His hands snake down her sides and to the hem of her little sundress before he’s hiking it up around her hips. Corina’s breaths are shaky in his ear as she licks the shell of it. Harry’s fingertips graze against the silky skin of her thighs and all he wants is to have them wrapped around his head.

He’s panting and she’s barely done anything. His fingers feel the soft cotton of her panties and she’s soaked through already. He fights back a smirk as she pulls away to look up at him, gorgeous brown eyes batting away and she sinks to her knees with a smirk of her own.

Harry nibbles down on his bottom lip, the anticipation almost becoming too much as she fumbles with his belt. He throws his head back and takes a deep breath. He needs this. It’s been too long and if he doesn’t have a pussy or pair of lips wrapped around him in the next ten seconds, he’s gonna burst.

It’s like she gets it, though, like she hears his thoughts and she runs her soft, wet tongue up his throbbing shaft. He’s big. Thick and the perfect length and her pussy is pulsing just looking at it. His tip is red, sore and angry, and all she can do is pepper kisses to it as she drinks him in.

She’s pulled his jeans and boxers down just enough so she can scratch up his thick thighs. Her plump lips tickle at his balls, sucking them into her mouth and she swirls her warm tongue around them, and Harry’s seeing stars. Knows it’s over for him when she releases with a pop and sucks up half his cock like a pro.

He’s fucking her face, holding it in place by her blonde locks and she doesn’t even gag when he hits the back of her throat. He’s completely gone, can’t tell his left from his right and he swears to God he’s gonna die and this is the best way he could ever fucking imagine.

She’s taking him like never before, slurping and lapping him up. Harry’s head is thrown back, eyes rolling and he feels like he’s going to explode. “Holy shit,” he pants out, beads of sweat dotting his hairline and he’s seeing stars.

Harry’s fingers thread through her hair, shoving her head closer to him until his cock is snug down her throat and her button nose is pressed against his naked pubic bone. 

“Ah, shit,” he cries out as she swallows around him, coming up for air.

She’s grinning up at him, eyes watering and plump lips swollen and soaked. Her own saliva is smothered across her chin and a string of it connects her lips to his tip. His cock is soaked too, completely fucking drenched and he wonders how tight her pussy would feel.

“You like that, baby?” Corina purrs up at him, long, dark lashes fluttering and he bites back a moan, doesn’t want to let her see him so fucked and vulnerable. 

He’s gnawing on his bottom lip, groans bubbling in his throat as she sucks him back up again. She moans around his shaft, tongue swirling on his underside of his cock and she pumps what she doesn’t want to fit in her mouth.

Harry’s hips are jutting into her face, eagerly chasing his release and she’s coaxing him on; sucking harder and pumping faster. He’s a spluttering mess, vision clouded and dotted with white lights and he’s coming. He’s coming so fucking hard, Corina struggles to keep it all in her mouth.

His arousal drips from the corners of her lips and Harry watches with blown eyes, jaw slacked. She’s still staring up at him, grinning as she swallows everything he gave her. Harry whimpers, taking a shaky breath and tucking himself back into his pants.

Corina giggles and licks up what slipped past her mouth, raising back to her feet and leaning into him with puckered lips. Harry grimaces and pulls back, dodging her kiss like his life depends on it and she sinks back to her feet and stifles a laugh.

“Oh, you’re one of those,” she quips, and Harry can’t help but scoff. 

He leans back against the walls, head rolled to the side slightly and Corina just wants to mark up that pretty neck. Shame she doesn’t get to. She squints, like she’s trying to read what’s on his mind, but it comes back blank. 

“My number’s in the books. Call me.” 

And just like that, she’s spinning on her heels and strutting out of the bathroom and out of the garage completely, hips swaying like she didn’t just suck the soul of his dick.

He stays there for a moment, trying to catch his breath and wrap his head around what had just happened. Just when he’s about to leave, Mackey is standing at the doorway with arms folded over his chest and a knowing smirk.

“Fuck off, Mack,” Harry grumbles out a laugh, fighting back the blush that sits on his cheeks. 

Mackey shakes his head at the young man and guides him back into the garage, throwing a greased up cloth at him and Harry gets back to work.

//

He’s getting frustrated. The notes don’t flow together and he can’t get the damn melody right. It’s 2 a.m. and Harry’s a mess. He’s not sure why he’s sacrificing his sleep to play around with his stupid guitar, but he really thought inspiration would strike. It hasn’t.

He stops his strumming and lets out a sigh, his stomach churning and he hears it gurgle silently. With a huff, Harry throws on a shirt from the ground and makes his way out of his bedroom. The hallway light is on and he can hear soft, yet frantic tapping as he makes his way down the stairs.

He rounds the corner when he notices the kitchen light on and papers sprawled around the island, and his heart stops a little. Y/N sits with a furrowed brow, AirPods shoved in her ears and she’s gnawing on her bottom lip as she types her fingers raw. Her hair is braided back and she’s got a stupid, slimy looking facemask on and she hasn’t noticed Harry’s presence.

He’s tempted to turn around while he still can, avoid her the way she’s been avoiding him for the past week, since that night at the party, but she catches his head of curls from the corner of her eyes and she’s pulling out her earphones and offering a soft, yet nervous smile.

“Hi,” she breathes softly, and it feels like it’s the first time he’s hearing her voice again. 

He’s not sure why he’s so bothered that she’s been avoiding him. And maybe he wouldn’t be bothered if it was under other circumstances, but he’s been silently worrying and treading on eggshells for the past nine days and he fucking hates it.

“Hi, yourself,” he tries to make it playful, to ease the air that’s suffocating them in the room and she breathes out a stifled laugh. 

Harry sits opposite her, watching the way she chews on the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit, he supposes. He can’t figure out what’s going on in her head.

“What are you doing up?” Y/N finally asks, and her voice is just as velvety as he remembers. 

She’s trying not to make eye contact, doesn’t want to deal with the awkward tension between them both. Never had been good with confrontation. Harry seems to get the hint, and like magic he’s willing to forget the whole thing.

He shrugs, “I couldn’t sleep,” and he’s got his chin propped up in the palms of his hands as his elbows rest on the counter. His hair is curling around his ears and at the nape of his neck again and Y/N just wants to brush her fingers through it. She doesn’t, though.

Instead, she nods her head and gently pushes her laptop screen down so she can get a better look at him—like she’s making up for the nine days and three hours that she hasn’t seen him for.

“I have some camomile tea in the cupboard. I always find that helps me with sleeping, you can have some, if you want.” She offers with a tight-lipped smile and picks at her nails. 

She struggles to look him in the eye, terrified he’s going to bring up the night of the party and she isn’t sure she can handle that. She hasn’t spoken about it to anyone. She’d like to keep it that way. 

“Why are you always so nice to everyone?” 

He can’t help but ask the question that’s been stuck in his head since he met her. She’s silent for a moment, a little stunned because no one’s ever asked her that before. She’s just nice. That’s who she is. She doesn’t know anything else.

Y/N shrugs. “I have no reason to be unkind,” and Harry can’t help but frown at her words. 

Part of him gets it, though, somewhere deep down, but the more conscious part of him doesn’t.

“Haven’t you heard of ‘kindness is weakness’?” He asks with slightly raised brows and she falls into herself a little, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry. 

Y/N doesn’t want to look at him, doesn’t want to mutter out an answer and she’s too stuck in her head, wondering if Harry had meant to backhandedly call her weak.

“I guess I’d rather be weak than an ass.” She shrugs, and this time, Harry isn’t sure if she meant to backhandedly call him an asshole. 

He sees the hint of a teasing smile on her lips and he can’t help but chuckle whole-heartedly, knowing she’s only playing, but he’s also sure part of her is being truthful.

Harry squints at her. “Why are you up, then?” He quips and he tries to keep it light and playful. 

Y/N lets out a shaky laugh and motions her hand across the surfaces. “I have a poetry essay to write, and I haven’t quite finished annotating everything,” she explains briefly, worried her talking will bore him and if she’s honest, she quite enjoys his company.

He hums and nods a little, about to say something when she speaks again. “And I heard you playing, you’re really good. You should see Professor Lennon about joining his class.” She smiles brightly, so bright that she misses the way his face hardens and jaw sets.

Y/N doesn’t stop talking, though, doesn’t hear the alarm bells in her head or see the way his face turns an angry shade of pink. 

“You were listening to me?” He asks, stuck in complete disbelief, and Y/N isn’t sure if his expression is one of anger or embarrassment.

It’s the former.

“I mean, the walls are thin, of course, I heard you,” she explains and before he can get a word in, she’s rambling again. “And you’re really good! I don’t know why you put up this hard front, you should be pursuing music, not keeping up this bad boy look.” She speaks, and Harry can’t help but see red.

How dare she tell him who he is and isn’t.

“You don’t know shit about me, so back the fuck off.” He spits at her, and he doesn’t miss the way her face drops and shoulders slump. 

He doesn’t care. He spins on his heels and ignores the frantic calls of his name and eager apologies as he bounces up the stairs, anger rolling off him in waves.

Y/N sits in her spot, completely frozen in shock and her whole body jolts when she hears him slam his bedroom door and glass shattering on the floor.

// 

The house is a tip, Y/N thinks. The cushions on the couch aren’t fluffed, the throw blanket over the back isn’t straight and she’s only just deciding that the rug beneath the coffee table is too big for the living room.

The house isn’t a mess. The surfaces are spotless and literally shining from the amount of polishing Reagan had done, the floors have been swept and mopped thanks to Niall, and the throw blanket over the back of the couch is straight.

The house isn’t a mess, Y/N is. She’s snappy and not at all her perky self. It’s 11 a.m and she’s forbidden anyone from walking around the house with their shoes on, and insisted that if you eat, it’s over the fucking sink or not at all. 

She doesn’t mean to be a controlling, raging bitch, but she’s stressed beyond comprehension and she only has thirty more minutes to make sure everything is perfect.

Her Dad is visiting. The one man that Y/N likes to think she doesn’t take shit from, but in reality, he’s the route of all her men-troubles. He’s ignorant, stubborn, filthy rich and, in Maisee’s word, a complete and utter fucking DILF.

Grayson Lee Y/L/N is not only Y/N’s biological father, but also the founder and CEO of GL Trading, one of the most successful businesses in all of the Greater London Area. It’s something Y/N tends not to brag about, and if anything, it’s something she purposely tries to go out of her way to hide.

It’s bad enough she shares his last name, she doesn’t want the entire campus (or everyone she meets, for that matter) to know he’s her father. It’s not that she’s ashamed… exactly. Moreover, she’s completely and utterly disgusted by his presence alone. He’s controlling, manipulative… a bully, and Y/N doesn’t like it one bit.

Harry’s bouncing down the stairs when Y/N rearranges the cushions and takes a step back to inspect their straightness. He’s got on his black skinny jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt. He’s got a hoodie thrown over his shoulder and a stupid beanie suffocating his hair. 

He notices Reagan first, how she’s dusting the tops of the picture frames on the walls. Her shirt has ridden up a little and so has her skirt, the hem of it barely resting below her ass and Harry looks away, eyes catching sight of a distraught Y/N, instead.

“No, it’s still not straight.” She huffs in aggravation.

The apples of her cheeks are growing warm and she’s tugging at the roots of her hair out of frustration. Harry’s never seen her like this and he can’t help but raise his brows in amusement at what she seems to be getting so upset over.

He takes a step closer to her, brows still raised and she stomps her foot like a child, and that’s when Harry decides he can’t hold back a little laugh. Y/N spins around and grits her teeth at the grinning young man.

“What? What the fuck is your problem, huh? Why don’t you fucking help instead of standing there, not doing shit!” 

She isn’t sure where it came from, no one is. Her chest is heaving with anger and everyone stares with wide eyes and slacked jaws. Harry’s fairly certain his head has been bitten off and he’s too much in shock to say anything back.

No one gets the chance to say anything before her shoulders are slumping and she’s rushing past everyone and up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her. Harry gapes at the spot she was just standing in and lets out a choked noise when he feels his boxers begin to strain.

Oh, no.

He spins around when Niall lets out a sigh and Harry can’t help but raise his brows in amusement again as he tries to mask his arousal. “What the fuck was that about?” he scoffs out a laugh as everyone disperses and Mackey takes the trash out.

Niall huffs and straightens the pillow for Y/N, although he’s quite sure he just made it worse. 

“Her Dad’s coming to visit today,” he explains briefly and Harry isn’t sure why that’s such a big deal and what other information Niall clearly isn’t telling him.

“That’s it? Why is she getting so uptight about the house and that fucking pillow?” Harry asks, completely bewildered and feeling more than a little out of the loop. 

Niall shrugs and spins a little, inspecting the rest of the room to make sure it was up to standards.

“She doesn’t like him. He’s a dick.” He concludes, offering a smile through pursed lips and all Harry can really do is gape at the man. 

Y/N, not liking another human being? That must be a joke. Harry waits for Niall to say so, but he doesn’t. He walks off with a little whistle and goes out to the backyard to help Dean and Maisee pull up the weeds.

Harry hums to himself and takes a deep breath. His pants are growing more uncomfortable by the second, hands growing clammy and he clears his throat. He’s alone in the lounge and the sun’s shining. It’s almost 3 p.m. and Harry has a class in forty minutes. 

He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, wondering if he has time to quickly get himself off and not be late for class. Usually, he wouldn’t care, but his attendance is already falling and he doesn’t want a formal meeting with Aunt Cathy and his parents.

Harry says fuck it and takes for the stairs, bounding up them three at a time. He’s racing straight for his room and misses the way Y/N tries to call out for him to apologise, and he’s unknowingly slamming the door in her face right after.

She wanders off with a sigh and he’s stripping his clothes, leaving them as a trail from the foot of his bed to his bathroom. The water’s running as his cock hardens, chest slightly heaving and he lets out a shaky breath. Stepping into the shower, he leaves the door open and allows the steam to filter through the bathroom.

He’s standing directly beneath the showerhead, scolding hot droplets of water racing down his toned torso, few sitting in the divots of flesh that form his abs. His skin is still a little sunkissed from his time in New York, golden and tan and his cock jumps a little when the water pelts down on him and his rosy nipples are caught in the crossfire.

He’s thinking about her, about the way she scolded him and the harshness of her tone. He’s thinking about how hot she looked with all flustered with a heaving chest. The way her lips seemed fuller and eyes darker. He’s teasing himself at the thought of her whispering dirty things in his ear in that same voice—pinching his rosy nipple between his fingers and giving it a gentle twist.

He wonders what her lips would feel like around him.

His free hand gently slides down his front, softly grasping his rock hard cock in his hand. He seethes quietly, head thrown back as he teases his slit with the tip of his finger, a string of pre-cum connected from his head to the pad of his finger. He swirls his arousal over his length, knows it isn’t enough to get him going but it’s a start.

Harry isn’t sure if he wants to picture her spread out with legs wide or sinking down on her knees in front of him. He’s torn between two of the most orgasmic images he could ever muster up in his dirty little head and for a moment he wonders if he should even be thinking about her at all.

His worry quickly ceases when his mind makes the decision for him and he sees her sinking to her knees, staring up at him through those pretty lashes. He thinks her eyes would be blown, that she’d have this innocent look about her – stronger than what it already is.

Harry slowly pumps himself, sighing out in relief and he pictures her dainty little hands doing it for him, instead. He thinks about Y/N parting her pretty fucking lips for him, thinks what her warm tongue would feel like, her warm mouth wrapped around him. For a hot second, he’s sure he can feel her sucking on his cock, but he opens his eyes and she isn’t there, of course, she isn’t.

He lets out an aggravated sigh and pumps himself harder. His guttural groans bounce off the walls and he’s placing a firm palm against the shower door, steadying himself the best he can. His eyes are shut tight, mind taking over and all Harry can see is Y/N’s dripping fucking pussy just begging to be eaten, to be treated right.

He thinks he can taste her, smell her, and he’s so fucked at the idea of her playing with herself and making him watch. He wonders if she’d touch her pussy and shove her fingers in his mouth, allowing him to taste her, just not from the source.

He’s bucking his hips into his hand, picking up his pace and it feels so good, so good he isn’t sure how long he’s going to last. Harry thinks back to his first day here, to when he heard her crying out in pleasure from the other side of the wall as she touched herself. He wants her moaning like that in his ear, running her tongue up his neck as she fucks herself on his big cock.

He wants her crying out for him, begging him to go faster, harder. He wants to feel her tight little pussy sucking him up, squeezing him like the greedy little cunt he knows it is. He’s losing his rhythm, struggling to keep up the pace and he feels himself throbbing. He’s spluttering out guttural moans, growling in complete and utter ecstasy and soon he’s covering the glass of the shower door with his arousal, painting it with white ribbons.

Harry takes a deep breath, tries to steady himself and get back to reality when he realises who he just got himself off to.

//

It’s quiet, silent, almost. Y/N flicks her salad across her plate, appetite lost the second her father wandered through the front door. Grayson didn’t come alone (not that Y/N expected him to), he wandered through the door with a young blonde on his hip, who Y/N learned was only two years older than her.

“Dinner’s good,” Grayson mumbles with a hand over his mouth. 

He’s dressed in an expensive grey suit and he’s got one of his many Rolex’ on his wrist. Y/N wants to smash it. Instead, she smiles through pursed lips and hums. 

“Yeah, Mum’s recipe. You know, the one she made you seconds before she found out you’d been cheating on her with your assistant.” Y/N replies, tone void of any emotion and she takes a sip of her red wine.

Grayson drops his fork on his plate and glares at his daughter. His plus one, Miley, purses her lips and Y/N knows she feels awkward, and she almost feels bad for her, but then she remembers she’s only with him for his money and she isn’t that bothered again.

“Problem, Grayson?” Y/N makes it clear not to call him her father, doesn’t want to give him the title that he’s done fuck all to earn. That’s one privilege he won’t be given for free. 

“Y/N Jane, watch your mouth,” Grayson warns, dark eyes stern and Y/N glares at the older man, wondering why he thought it would be a good idea to start growing out a beard.

“Or what? You’ll ground me? News flash, asshole, you don’t control me.” She spits, any and all hints of civilness completely diminished and she’s lost her filter along the way. 

Grayson smashes his fist against the table and points to his daughter with gritted teeth, and Y/N’s thankful she didn’t inherit his bad temper.

The noise can be heard from upstairs and Harry puts his guitar down for a moment and tries to strain his ears. He knows Y/N is having a meal with her Dad downstairs, Niall made it very clear for everyone to stay away. 

But now Harry’s a little thirsty and he can’t decide if it’s for water or some tea. He pushes himself up and off the bed, down the hall until he’s at the top of the stairs, leaning down a little so he can hear what’s going on.

“Reel it in, Y/N. You know you won’t get anywhere without me, so I suggest you pay me some respect.” He spits. 

Y/N bows her head and bites back her poison, fingernails denting half-moons into the palms of her hand as she tries to calm herself down.

“I’m already getting somewhere on my own. I got myself this scholarship, and I’m paying my way with my own money.” She argues back through gritted teeth and Harry wants to back her up, knows how fucking hard she works and he’s suddenly desperate to defend her.

Grayson throws his head back with a sadistic chuckle, shaking his head and rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Yeah… and the second you fuck this scholarship up or find yourself with no more money… you’re coming home with me whether you like it or not. You don’t get a fucking choice.” He grits his teeth.

Harry takes a step back in complete disgust and he can tell by Y/N’s silence that he’s hit a nerve. He doesn’t really have time to think before he’s bounding back to his bedroom and climbing out of his bedroom window. He didn’t think to put any shoes on, nor use the fucking door, but he hopes to God he hasn’t got the wrong message.

He climbs down the tree and bends his knees to stick his fall. Harry dusts his hands off on his sweatpants and takes a deep breath, curls an unruly mess. He shakes his shoulders off a little before reaching for the door and knocking three times.

He can hear Y/N pushing her chair out against the hardwood floor, along with her soft footsteps pattering to the door. She opens it, about to greet herself but falls short when she notices it’s only Harry and frowns. She thought he was upstairs.

“Harry?”

“Y/N! Thank God you’re home, I’m sorry it’s late but I’m desperate. I just found out what’s gonna be on the test tomorrow and it’s something I’m so unsure about, and I know you’re an incredible writer, can you help? There’s no way I’m passing this class without you.” He pleads out, and both Y/N and Harry are more than a little shocked at how believable his little act seems.

Y/N splutters for a moment before Harry raises his brow and silently tells her to go along with it. She nods her head and ushers him inside, noticing the lack of shoes as she peers down and she wonders how the fuck he got outside.

“Um…” before Y/N can somehow come up with a way to politely tell Grayson to fuck off, he’s wiping his mouth and standing from his seat, shaking his head. 

“It’s fine, we were just leaving,” he tells them, Miley soon following and Grayson doesn’t bother to kiss Y/N’s forehead goodbye.

Instead, he brushes past both her and Harry while Miley awkwardly follows. Y/N stands there with pursed lips as she closes the front door. Harry watches her intently, notices the way her right brow twitches and he supposes it’s a tell of hers. She clears her throat and wanders to the kitchen, grouping up the half-empty plates from the table.

Harry helps, doesn’t miss the way Y/N looks at him as they empty the dishes and place them in the sink. He’s leaning against the counter when Y/N runs the water, grabbing the sponge and cleaning the plates off with soapy water. 

“I’m sorry, about yesterday.” Harry breaks the silence with a soft apology.

Y/N stills, hands soaked in the sink as she takes in his words. His voice is soft and tender, and somehow, she knows he’s being sincere. She shakes her head and forces on a smile. 

“It’s okay,” she mumbles back, stacking the plates on the dish rack and shaking her hands off.

Harry scoffs and hands her a kitchen towel to dry her hands. “No, it’s not,” he insists. “I was a dick and you don’t deserve that, ever.” 

She’s avoiding his gaze so Harry dips his head and cranes his neck until he knows she can see him. She huffs out a small laugh and finally faces him, cheeks still a little flushed and Harry finally notices the dark circles under her eyes.

“It’s okay,” she shrugs. 

Harry groans and widens his eyes at her playfully. “Stop saying that!” he exclaims, enticing the most beautiful fucking laugh from her lips and he can’t help but grin so happily at her. 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” she laughs and Harry raises his hands in the air, can’t understand how this smart young woman doesn’t get what he’s saying.

“And don’t apologise! You have nothing to apologise for.” He reminds her, and Y/N thinks for a second, thinks about his complete change in personality and she wonders if this is just Harry when he’s relaxed; playful and kind. She wishes she always saw this side of him, the fluffy hair and flushed cheeks.

“Okay,” she whispers breathlessly as she stares at him. 

Y/N notices a scar on his cheek, wonders if he got it from a bar fight or something a little purer like a childhood battle scar. She wants to rub her thumb over his soft skin and for a split second, she feels her hand reaching out to touch him, but she quickly stops herself.

Harry feels like his apology isn’t enough, that she deserves more. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back as he scratches the nape of his neck and clears his throat. He points up to the ceiling and scuffs his feet against the floor. 

“I’m gonna uh, go back…” he trails off and he doesn’t know why he’s being so awkward.

Y/N giggles out a laugh and nods her head, shoulders light and she doesn’t feel as tense anymore. 

“Goodnight, Harry.” she smiles softly, twiddling her fingers and Harry’s stomach does a little flip at it. He smiles and nods. 

“Night, Y/N,” he whispers, turning around but looking back at her over his shoulder.

He makes his way upstairs with a silly lovesick grin and he doesn’t bother trying to hide it. He feels relieved, thankful. And it shows on his face when he pounces on the bed with a grin, heart thumping in his chest and he hopes to God maybe she feels the same, he just doesn’t know why.

//

It’s nearing five p.m. when Y/N comes strolling through the front door. She’s got a shit-eating grin on her face and excitement is seeping through her pores. She’s hopping on the balls of her feet as she closes the door behind her, cheeks beginning to ache but she can’t find it in herself to care.

She’s skipping through the foyer and straight into the kitchen when Raegan and Dean quickly jump away from each other. As if Y/N didn’t already know. She doesn’t say anything, can’t really think about anything other what’s to come tonight.

Dean squints at her. “What’s got you all chipper?” He asks and Y/N shies her face into her shoulder for a second before bouncing on her toes and clapping her hands. 

“I have a date!” 

Heads turn her way and Y/N finally acknowledges the rest of her housemates as they gather around her like she’s discovered fire.

“You… have a date? As in Y/N Jane Y/L/N, has a date?” Oliver quips, sheer confusion and disbelief laced in his tone and Y/N tries to not be wounded. 

She scoffs instead. “Gee, thanks, Olly.” 

He tries to stammer out that he didn’t mean it in the way she took it, but when Raegan swiftly jabs him in the ribs with an elbow, he falls silent.

“So….” Raegan raises her shoulders and brows expectantly and Y/N states at her blankly. “Who are you going on a date with!?” She hoots out, arms outstretched by her sides and wonders how her friend is so fucking absent all the time.

Y/N’s eyes ignite up and she grins. “Oh! Uh, Liam, the guy from the bar.” Y/N softly answers and she suddenly feels like they’re about to interrogate her, kill the lights and force her onto a stool. They don’t. 

“Oh, you mean Liam from Psych 101.” Dean clicks his fingers and Y/N nods her head sheepishly.

It’s hushed for a moment. “Wow, really? Liam from Psych 101 asked you out?” He repeats and Y/N feels that little tug in the pit of her stomach. 

Ah, they’re surprised, and by the tone of their voices and looks on their faces, she’s guessing they’re astounded that he asked her out, of all people.

“Liam from Psych 101 asked who out?” a gentle voice quarrels through the room. 

Harry bounces in easily, an airy vibe to his mood. He locks eyes with Y/N for a moment and he offers a tender smile.

It’s been exactly nine days since he played the hero in her time of need, and they’ve spoken every day since. They’re friends, to say the least. And although neither of them are subtle with their lingering glances and sheepish smiles, they’re also both completely and utterly oblivious.

“Y/N… can you believe it.” Dean says, and both Harry and Y/N’s smiles plummet, though both for completely different reasons. 

Harry just raises his eyebrows a little, hopes that they will lift the rest of his face and tug on the corners of his mouth to keep that fucking smile on his lips, though the frown lies heavy and he finds himself struggling.

“You’re going on a date.” He breathes out, nodding to himself as he clamps his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Harry isn’t sure why the new information has plagued him, not when he’s still been seeing Corina every other day and the fact that there is absolutely nothing between him and Y/N that goes beyond the means of a flourishing friendship.

“Like… like a date date?” Niall peeks at his friend.

Y/N shrugs and offers a timid smile, tucking tufts of hair behind her ear and she glows just a little, though she isn’t sure why. 

“So you’re missing movie night?” Mackey finally pipes up, words stifled by the piece of cake he’s just shoved in his mouth.

Y/N purses her lips and nods her head. She feels a little wrong. Movie night has always been her idea and she’s always given the other’s shit if they’ve missed one for whatever reason. Movie night is the equivalent of family night to Y/N, and she feels like she’s about to disappoint her family.

“Okay.” Raegan shrugs and Y/N feels a little load lifted from her shoulders. 

It’s silent again and she can feel Harry’s indifferent eyes on her and she doesn’t quite know why. 

“Um, Mais… will you help me get ready?” Y/N asks softly to her friend. 

Maisee raises her head from the book she was reading, hasn’t bothered to acknowledge Y/N’s news. She’s has hardly spoken to Y/N since the night of Harry’s surprise party, and it’s beginning to bother her. Y/N isn’t sure if she’s done something to upset her friend, she just wants things back to how they used to be. Maisee evades eye contact as she clears her throat and stands from her seat.

“Actually, I’m kinda busy. I’m sure Raegan can help.” She stammers out, surging past the group and leaping up the steps. No one seems to notice the strain between them or the way Y/N’s smile sinks into a grimace.

Harry purses his lips and steps out of the room, silently trailing Maisee up the stairs and he hinders her before she can get into her bedroom. 

“What the hell is your problem?” He quips out quietly. 

She spins and frowns, books grasped to her chest and Harry takes a few more undecided steps toward her.

“Excuse me?”

Harry jeers. “Y/N. What the fuck is your problem with her? Ever since the party you’ve been a no-show when she’s needed you. And back there, you literally blew her off in front of everyone. So what the fuck is your problem?” He’s essentially fermenting.

Harry doesn’t know what comes over him, can’t understand why he’s so hellbent on fixing their friendship. Before Maisee can say anything, Harry’s shaking his head and turning his back to her, stomping off into his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

Maisee stands there, dazed. She’s more than a little speechless but part of her isn’t surprised. She’s had an inkling that there might’ve been something going on between Y/N and Harry and now she’s dead certain there is.

He’s right though. Maisee’s been avoiding her. She blames herself, for what happened with Chris at Harry’s party, and she knows Y/N’s too fucking nice to blame her, too. Maisee drops her books off on the desk in her room, staring at the pinboard on the wall. There’s polaroids of them both, Y/N and Maisee, smiling and giggling without a care in the world.

Maisee takes a deep breath and wanders to Y/N’s bedroom, knocking on the open door and taking a step in. Y/N sits on the edge of her bed with a solemn look, gorgeous hair, that Maisee’s always been jealous of, covering her face and she picks at her fingernails. Nervous habit.

“Hey,” Maisee whispers, Y/N’s head snapping up and her eyes are wide, hopeful. 

“Hi,” Y/N breathes and her shoulders raise as hope and love bubble inside her. She just wants her best friend back.

Maisee takes a seat beside her and smiles through pursed lips. “I wouldn’t have come up here if Harry didn’t convince me.” She admits, and part of Y/N appreciates her honesty. She stares at her with a slight frown and somewhat squinted eyes.

“Harry spoke to you?” She asks, and Maisee doesn’t bother to hide the humorous smile on her lips as she stares at the carpet beneath her. 

“Yeah, reminded me of what a shitty friend I’ve been lately,” She chuckles out dryly.

Y/N purses her lips. “You haven’t—” She’s cut off with a sharp scoff. 

“I have, don’t even try to deny it.” She insists. 

Y/N stays quiet, stares at the carpet too and this is the most conversation they’ve had in three weeks.

“I’m sorry.” Maisee’s apology echos through the room and Y/N smiles softly, a little happier now. 

Partly because she already forgave Maisee, the other part because Harry went out of his way to do something nice for her, for no reason. A blush squirms on her faded cheeks at the thought.

“Me too.”

// 

It’s midnight.

Her feet are raw, her jaw throbs and she’s pretty sure her eyes resemble a panda’s. Her heels (that she borrowed from Maisee) are dangling from her fingertips by the straps and the soles of her feet are covered in dirt. 

She’s silent, stealth like. She doesn’t want anyone to hear her sneaking in, nor see that look of utter exhaustion and embarrassment on her face. Her aching toes pad up the stairs, teeth clenched like that’ll somehow keep her movements light and silent.

She thinks she’s made it, that she could be considered for the Secret Service, but she forgets the uneven floorboard outside her bedroom and it creaks, reverberating through the empty hall. She stills for a moment, eyes clutched shut, lips pursed in a fine line like it’ll make a difference.

It doesn’t, and Harry pokes his head out of his door and smiles when he sees the side of her face that’s masked by her hair. 

“Hey… how was your date?” He asks smoothly, running across his face and he stifles a yawn.

Y/N clears her throat and sniffs. 

“Yeah, it was okay.” She mutters, uninterested. Harry frowns and steps out of his doorway and toward her. 

“Just okay? What’s wrong? You sound upset.” He notices, warm hand caressing the side of her cold arm and she finally turns around to him.

She looks absolutely fucking devastated and something about her tottering eyes and quivering lips hurts him. 

“He stood me up.” She sniffles, eyes flooding with fresh tears and he doesn’t have time to think before he’s pulling her into his chest and keeping her close.

She’s wailing into his soft, blue shirt and she feels so bad for ruining it with her makeup, but Harry shows he doesn’t care when he cradles her head snug into his chest and gently coos her. 

“You’re okay, honey… it’s okay.” He isn’t sure where the nickname comes from, he’s never been one to use them, but it feels right, like it was made just for her.

Harry reaches behind her and opens her bedroom door, carefully ushering her inside and she sits on the foot of her bed as Harry detaches himself for her. He suddenly feels aloof. He reaches over and closes the door before making his way into her bathroom, grabbing a pack of makeup wipes from her sink and pulling one out of the packet.

“Hey, shh. Look at me, okay?” He whispers, benevolently guiding her hands from her face and he’s surprising himself with this new side of him. 

Y/N swallows, breath caught in her throat as she does so and she’s so fucking enthralled by his kindness.

He gently wipes under her eyes, removing the smudged mascara stroking her soft cheek with his other hand. She stares at him for a moment, almost disregarding why he’s there, but then she remembers.

“Why am I never enough for anyone?” Y/N whimpers out and Harry quickly realises he’s on deep and untouched territory. 

His mind is screaming at him to run, to get the hell out of dodge… but his heart beats softly and he knows he needs to stay. She needs company and comfort, and he… Well, he needs to know that she’s okay.

“You’re more than enough, honey. Don’t do that to yourself. He’s a dick, okay? He doesn’t deserve you.” Harry comforts her, makeup wipe on the floor as he cups her swollen cheeks in the palms of his hands.

“Y/N Jane, you are the kindest soul I have ever met. You are smart, talented, funny, strong. You are so beautiful, Y/N. I promise you.” His voice is straining like he’s desperate for her to hear and believe his words. 

She does. For a fleeting moment, she does.

And then she kisses him.

Harry’s never been one to get nervous. Never had the experience of sweaty palms and frantic butterflies in his stomach, or a dazed head and blushed cheeks. But all at once he’s experiencing them when her lips meet his. 

His mind is in a frenzy, body still as a rock and he can physically hear his heartbeat in his ears. He moves quickly, though. He cups her pretty little face in the palms of his hands and his eyes gently flutter closed. He’s losing himself in it, in her.

Her lips are sweet… plump and soft and Harry can’t believe he’s kissing her. Y/N threads her dainty fingers through his wispy curls and gives them a generous little tug. He’s seeing stars, his lips are tingling. 

Y/N subtly slides her warm tongue between his lips, the sudden boldness catching Harry off guard and he pants slightly into her mouth. She tastes like cherries with a hint of peppermint and Harry finds himself completely mesmerised by it.

Harry’s hand sneaks its way to the back of her neck, slim fingers twirling her locks and tugging ever so gently, but it only makes her more eager. She’s shifting to the very edge of the bed, fingernails scratching at the nape of his neck and he lets out a soft groan against her lips.

Y/N pulls away, panting with what Harry can only guess to be a dizzy smile and she purses her lips to bite back a soft laugh. 

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.” She giggles through her embarrassment and Harry can feel the heat that rises to her cheeks.

He clears his throat, his forehead resting on hers and he nibbles on his bottom lip, savouring the taste of her that’s varnished him. 

“No, it’s… it’s okay.” He tries to assure her, though there’s a thick silence that sits on them as they continue to lean into each other. 

Harry doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. This isn’t like him, he doesn’t do this kind of shit. But it’s her, it’s Y/N and Harry doesn’t want to pull away. He doesn’t want to feel the coldness of her body not being close enough.

The silence becomes unbearable and Y/N really can’t help the bubble of obnoxious laughter that bursts out of her. She’s embarrassed, so fucking embarrassed and she hopes to God that Harry will never tell anyone what she just did.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” Her laughter rolls off into waves of soft whines and Harry thinks that she regrets it, regrets him. 

It’s a sudden feeling of red hot fire all over and an unfamiliar sting in his gut. He’s hurt, he just doesn’t understand why.

“I should uh… I’ll go, let you get some sleep.” He clears his throat with a soft smile and Y/N finally pulls off from him, a fair distance between their lips again but she still can’t seem to tear her eyes away from them.

Y/N nods her head and lets out a soft smile, breathing still a little shaky and Harry has to remind himself that he’s not hers. It’s not his job to reassure her, to love her. It’s not his job. 

“Yeah… uh, goodnight.” She stutters out, wiping her clammy hands on the sides of her black dress and Harry clears his throat for what feels like the tenth time tonight.

He leans up on his toes until he’s standing tall once more, brushing off his hands and wandering toward the door. She watches his back as he walks away and freezes when he slowly opens it. 

“I uh, I took your advice, by the way. About Professor Lennon.” He tells her, back still facing her body but Y/N shoots up to her feet and her jaw slacks a little.

“I showed him some music. He wants me to write an original for him, a demo, by Wednesday.” He looks over his shoulder at her and she’s grinning so fucking wide, and Harry is almost certain he can see tears pooling in those gorgeous eyes of hers.

“I’m proud of you.” She whispers and this time, it’s Harry’s eyes that start to water. 

He offers a smile through pursed lips and rushes out of her room and into his. The second he closes the door, his chest is heaving and he can still feel her body on his.

//

It’s noon when Harry leaves Professor Lennon’s room, guitar in one hand and music sheets in the other. There’s a cool breeze casting over the quad and students chatter softly as they study on the grass. Harry’s minding his own business when he notices a loud ruckus of chatter and laughter from a little further ahead.

“Should’a seen her, looked so fuckin’ stupid.” The blond snickers, his friends laughing along and Harry notices something familiar about him. 

Harry squints at him a little longer until it clicks. Liam. He remembers that smug fucking face from when he looked him up on Instagram after leaving Y/N’s room last night.

Harry bites down on his tongue and makes his way over to the small group, their chatter and excitement dying down when they notice the unfamiliar face and Harry offers a feigned friendly smile as he sets his guitar case and music notes down against a tree.

“Hey, you’re Liam, right? The guy that stood up Y/N Y/L/N?” Harry asks, a hint of amusement in his tone and Liam grins, smacking a friend in the chest as he tries to buff himself out. 

He looks so smug… proud, and Harry wants to wipe it off his face.

“Yeah, who are you?” He puffs out his chest and takes a step forward, shoulders rolled back and Harry can’t help but scoff to himself. 

What the hell did Y/N see in this douche? 

Harry rolls his tongue and clenches a fist, swinging it until his knuckles collide with Liam’s nose and he’s stumbling back as he clutches his bloody face.

It spirals from there, punches, kicks, hair pulling. It all goes so fast that Harry doesn’t feel the black eye and cut up cheek and brow until he’s sat in Aunt Cathy’s office and his hands and body are fucking throbbing. He caught a couple of kicks to the stomach, and even though Harry was beaten blue by four guys, Liam still looks worse than him.

Harry smiles to himself.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts and ego that he blanks out the majority of the lecture Cathy gives them. Harry bounces his knee as he chews at the insides of his cheeks and Cathy quickly grows sick of his nonchalant.

“Liam, you can go.” She huffs, head nodding to the door and he scoffs something out under his breath, not giving Harry a second glance. 

Cathy notices the limp in his walk and the way he holds his left arm as he moves and closes the door behind him.

She closes her eyes and sighs. “Strike one.” She tells him, doesn’t need to look at him to know that his stupid smile is wiped off his face. 

She hears him clear his throat and croak out a half-assed apology that she doesn’t care for. She shoos him out of her room just as quickly and Harry’s begrudgingly walking toward his Jeep as he holds an ice pack to his knuckles and tries to ignore the iron taste of blood on his tongue.

He’s proud, that’s for sure. Knows Liam deserved it and Harry would quite happily lay into him all over again. He supposes he shouldn’t, though. He’s earning all kinds of looks from girls as he walks by them. Hungry eyes and pursed lips and Harry supposes they’re just desperate for a good fuck. He growls to himself at the idea but clears his head as he climbs into the Jeep and turns on the engine.

It’s proven a struggle when Harry tries to steer his way back to the house while holding his knuckles and his eye is beginning to close due to the swelling. He makes it, though, just about. He throws the Jeep in park and leaves it on the drive, staggering up the steps to the front door as he carries his music sheets and guitar in one hand.

Once he’s through the door, Harry decides he isn’t going back through it again today. He kicks his shoes off and heads straight upstairs. Harry only assumes the house is empty by the sheer silence of it and he discards his music sheets and guitar on the bed as he makes his way to the bathroom to take a shower.

His knuckles ache when the water cascades down his body, a large purple bruise forming around his eye and he debates whether or not he should go and find Liam to finish the job. He decides against it. He has homework.

Y/N is fuming. Her face is hot and her little hands are clenched into fists by her sides. She doesn’t bother greeting anyone when she gets home, completely ignores them all and takes to the stairs. She bounds up them two at a time, could do three if her legs were a little longer. Her heavy footsteps can be heard as she crashes down the hall, drowning out the chatter from everyone downstairs and Y/N barges straight into his bedroom.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” She yelps out as she pushes the door open. 

Harry’s got his back to her, pulling his white shirt over his head and he spins around with wide eyes. Y/N’s glare drops and her own eyes widen, watering just as quickly and her shoulder sag.

She covers her mouth with her hands. He’s got a black eye and a cut eyebrow. His sunkissed, tattooed stomach is bruised and her breathing is caught in her throat. Harry drops the shirt on the bed and scratches at the back of his neck, his muscles taut and she can’t look away.

“Harry,” She gasps out as she stretches for him, delicate fingertips pressing on his bruised torso but he pulls away with a hiss. 

Y/N stares at him in grief and drops her hands to her side. “Why did you do that?” She asks breathlessly, her chest rising and falling and it burns her to see him like that.

He stares at her for a while, doesn’t understand why she’s so upset, so worried about him. He supposes it’s because she’s just a nice person, but another part of him, deep down, prays to God that she cares for another reason.

He shrugs, takes a step closer and brushes a strand of hair from her face—doesn’t want her to think he’s being cold by brushing her off just seconds prior. Harry finally gets a good look at her. Summer dress and tennis shoes with that florist’s apron wrapped around her front. Just like the first time they met. 

Harry beams, heart ricocheting. He thinks back to the first time he saw her, how he supposed she was pretty. He looks at her now and sees the stars. Like she’s got this glowing tint around her silhouette and Harry swears she’s the most precious fucking thing he’s ever seen.

“He treated you like shit, Y/N/N.” 

There he goes again, with the Goddamn nicknames. 

She stares up at him like he’s the unknown eighth wonder of the world and she feels like her heart might leap out of her throat any second. 

“Wasn’t going to let him get away with it.” His voice dies off into a whisper.

Their noses are almost touching and neither of them are quite sure how they’ve grown this close without moving. Harry’s still got his fingers in her hair, twirling the soft curls around and she’s unknowingly nuzzling into his touch. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed, feels like she’s on cloud nine and she’s struggling so fucking hard to keep her lips off his and her heart beats erratically.

Harry eyes her, watches the way her lashes gently flutter and he’s about to lean in, about to allow himself to taste her one more time, and then his phone rings. It’s an obnoxious blaring that breaks them apart and Y/N’s eyes look to the bed, reading the name that lights up the screen with the incoming call.

Corina x

Y/N feels her heart sink, knew it was too good to be true. As if someone like him could ever be interested in someone like her. She feels a bubble of hurt in her stomach and she swallows her insecurities, spinning on her feet and leaving Harry alone to stare at the phone on his bed.

He closes his eyes when he hears Y/N leave, a sigh slipping from his lips and he pinches at the bridge of his nose, feels so fucking stupid. He picks up the phone, raising it to his ear. 

“What?” he spits out through gritted teeth, hand in his unruly curls and he tugs.

She invites him over, in that sickly sweet voice that he’s growing to hate lately. But it’s dripping with sex and he can tell she’s wet just by the way she’s breathing down the phone. Harry’s mind falls on Y/N for a moment, wondering if this is something he should be doing. 

But he isn’t with Y/N, they’re not a thing, not even close, and Harry knows he needs to stop himself from imagining them as such.

“I’ll be there in ten.” He grumbles into the phone, shoving it in the pocket of his sweatpants and he struggles to put a shirt back on. 

Harry shoves his feet into a pair of nearby sneakers, grabbing his keys and a jacket on the way out of his bedroom.

He bounces down the stairs, little Harry growing more and more excited the closer he gets to have her lips wrapped around him, but that lovely image is quickly torn from his mind when he sees Y/N speaking softly to a man with a familiar head of hair. Harry frowns, takes slow and easy steps down the stairs and he can smell the cologne he grew up with.

Y/N looks past him and up at Harry, heat on her cheeks and she smiles softly. He notices and spins around, an unimpressed look on his face and Harry gulps, brows still furrowed.

“Dad?”

“You’ve got some explaining to do, Harry.”

// 

Shopping bags smack at their thighs with every step they take, but both young ladies have blocked that out since they walked past Claire’s seventeen minutes ago. It’s quiet for a Tuesday afternoon and Y/N’s quite thankful for it. She’s got her arm linked with Maisee’s as they pass the water fountain and slowly window-shop their afternoon away.

Y/N’s been blabbering non-stop since they left the house this morning. She’s told Maisee all the juicy details of the kiss, the way he held her and touched her. Maisee looked like she was about to combust with happiness and Y/N tried her hardest to calm her friend down, but that didn’t stop her from screaming it at the top of her lungs.

“But, who’s Corina?” Maisee huffs, brows furrowed and Y/N tries to hide her disappointment but it’s no use, Maisee knows her like the back of her hand. 

She pinches Y/N’s arm and gives her a look, a look that tells her to stop comparing herself to someone she doesn’t even know. Y/N rolls her eyes.

“Did he meet her?” she asks quietly, like she’s afraid to mention the mystery girl again in case Y/N bursts into tears or breaks someone’s arm. 

Y/N shakes her head with a sigh instead. “I think he was going to, but his dad showed up,” Y/N explains with a little shrug of her shoulders.

“Is he hot? He must be hot, Harry’s hot… he has to get his looks from somewhere,” Maisee mutters to herself, nibbling on her red stained bottom lip at the thought and Y/N cringes beside her. 

“First of all, ew, gross. Second of all, he’s just… just a dad.” She doesn’t really know how else to describe the older man, other than that Harry’s the spitting image of him.

“Whatever, I’m ninety-three per cent sure Harry’s into you,” Maisee concludes, shoulders shrugging and she’s got that look on her face that says this isn’t up for discussion, and Y/N just sighs. 

“What was his dad doing there anyway?” She asks again as they make their way to the parking lot, swarmed by darkness and sharp headlights of the cars that drive past.

Y/N shrugs again. That seems to be all she’s doing today. 

“Probably because Harry got into that fight with Liam. Everyone knows about it,” Y/N mumbles out, worried that her name is attached to it and she doesn’t want to be associated with what happened, even if it did happen because of her.

“That is a prime example of him having feels for you,” Maisee points out as Y/N digs through her purse for her keys.

She pretends to ignore Maisee’s comment like she doesn’t hear it, but part of Y/N wants to believe her, wants it to be true. She shakes the thought from her head and unlocks the car, trunk popping open and they throw their bags inside.

“Where to? Wanna come do grocery shopping with me?” Maisee asks. 

Y/N looks at her with squinted eyes, knows Maisee fucking hates doing the grocery shop on her own, but Maisee also knows she doesn’t have a choice. Y/N shakes her head as she starts the engine, watches her friend throw her head back with a drastic groan and whine.

“But… my car’s in the garage, remember? How am I meant to get to the store and bring all the stuff back?” Maisee argues, hopes that she might be able to guilt Y/N into it, but she’s not taking Maisee’s bullshit. 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m letting you borrow my car.” She grins, pulling out of their parking space while Maisee wails.

//

He’s got a beer in his hand as he stares at the tree at the back of the garden. It’s hot, too hot, actually, and his shirt is long forgotten as sweat begins to pool in the little divots of flesh that sculpt his abs. They sit together in silence, father and son, and it’s eating at Harry… just wants to know where he stands.

After Richie showed up last night, Y/N had left them both to themselves where he gave Harry the Dad Look and sat him down in the kitchen, told him he needs he to get his act together or else. Harry knew the threat wasn’t empty, so it was also no surprise when Richie told him he was staying for a few days to keep an eye on him.

Subsequently, this meant no sex for Harry.

Richie’s sitting beside him, shirt by his feet and he’s got his arms behind his head as he relaxes in the sun lounger. He’s got a full chest of hair, something he always told Harry made him a man when Harry was younger, and sweat begins to glisten on his sunkissed skin. He’s relaxed, a beer beside him and a little smile on his lips, eyes hidden behind his black tinted sunglasses.

“How’s Mum and Gemma?” Harry breaks the silence, voice a little raspy after not speaking a word for over an hour and Richie hums at the mention of his beloved ladies. 

“They’re good. Maybe you’d know that if you called once in a while,” he quips and Harry closes his eyes, knows his Dad is right and nods his head.

Richie feels bad. He shouldn’t, because what he said is true… but he knows his son, and he knows how much Harry loves his Mum and sister. He also knows that Harry distances himself for his family when he feels himself spiralling, or feels like he’s a disappointment. Richie doesn’t tell Harry that’s the real reason he’s here… to remind him he is loved.

“Mum’s okay, she misses you,” Richie says, Harry nodding with a hint of a smile on his lips. 

He misses her, more than anything. And he knows she’s only an hours drive away, but he doesn’t think he can face her. Doesn’t want to disappoint her.

“And your sister… well, she’s sixteen going on twenty-five and I can’t keep up,” Richie laughs out, eyes crinkling behind his glasses and Harry does the same. If anyone were to walk past, they’d probably think they were looking at the same person, just twenty-five years apart.

It’s silent again for a brief moment when their laughter dies down and Harry’s left in his thoughts. Richie chews on his bottom lip, stares at the grass. 

“You gotta get your shit together, Harry.” He mumbles out to his son, doesn’t miss the way Harry’s head whips round to face him but Richie keeps his focus on the green grass across the garden. 

“You want to pursue music but you’re not gonna get anywhere with it if you get kicked out of this place. I’m serious, Harry. What’s going on with you?” Harry looks away.

He thinks about Richie’s words, knows he’s right, like always, and it hurts. It hurts to be the family disappointment. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers out, brows knitted together and he picks at his bruising knuckles, doesn’t wanna look at his Dad and see the sadness on his face.

Richie sighs and sits up, legs hanging over the side of the chair and he leans his elbows on his knees. 

“We’re always going to be proud of you, Harry. You’re my son, and I love you. You just gotta figure out what’s going on in your head. You’re not seventeen anymore. It’s time to grow up.” It isn’t a lecture or a telling-off, it’s advice, solid advice that Harry needs to follow.

He nods and tilts his head, smiles through pursed lips and Richie smacks him on the back of his shoulder in a loving matter. 

“Now enough of this sappy shit, go get me another beer.” Richie smacks him again as he swings his legs back onto the sunlounger and relaxes, Harry’s sweet laughter music to his ears and he can’t remember the last time he heard his boy laugh like that. It’s nice.

Harry’s still smiling to himself when he wanders into the kitchen through the back patio doors, giggling softly when he opens the fridge and pulls out to cool cans of Corona. He kicks the door shut, about to go back into the garden when he hears the front door open and the muffled voice of Y/N call out, “Anyone home? Little help!”

He spins and approaches the door, watches as she’s weighed down by at least twelve shopping bags and she struggles to keep the door from closing on her with the side of her foot. 

“Oh, shit, Y/N.” His eyes widen at her struggle and he quickly places the beers on the counter behind him, racing to her and taking the majority of her bags from her quivering arms.

Y/N sighs out in appreciation and kicks the door shut, shoving the bags to the floor and Harry does the same. She pushes her straightened hair from her hair and lets out a breath, looking up at Harry and drinking him in. God, he looks so good, she thinks and forces herself to look away from his sweating torso.

“You okay, honey?” he asks with a soft laugh, a small smile beaming on her lips and she nods breathlessly, wiping her clammy hands on her ripped jeans. 

“Yeah, Maisee had me drag all this in because I wouldn’t do the grocery shop with her,” Y/N explains and Harry rolls his eyes in the nicest way he can.

“She knows the rules,” he replies and Y/N raises her eyebrows, nodding in agreement but they both know that doesn’t make a difference. 

“You been sunbathing?” she asks with a soft laugh, wandering into the kitchen. 

Harry walks behind her and nods, clearing his throat when he realises she doesn’t see the reply.

“Yeah, it’s nice out,” he says, scratching the back of his neck when he sees her reach up to grab a glass from the cupboard. 

She turns and smiles at him when she gets it, running the tap and she squints her eyes, smile only growing. Harry squints back at her, a nervous smile on his face and he wonders why she’s looking at him like that.

“What?” he asks cautiously and she shakes her head, filling her glass and shutting the water off. 

“Your hair looks good like that.” Y/N grins, eyes up the black headband he’s using to keep his curls from falling in his face and Harry blushes like crazy when he realises. He purses his lips to hide his grin and Y/N splutters into her glass of water as she tries to take a sip.

Harry shakes his head and reaches for the fruit bowl. 

“Oh, you’re so funny, aren’t you, honey,” he teases as he picks off a single grape, throwing it at her forehead and they both shriek when it bounces off and into her glass of water. 

Harry giggles as he walks closer, takes her hand in his that holds the glass. She stares at him as he dips his fingers into her water and pulls out the grape, popping it into his mouth and he smiles.

“Almost as sweet as you,” he mumbles and Y/N can’t help but roll her eyes and splutter out a laugh. 

She turns and pours the rest of her water down the sink but Harry just watches the side of her face as she tries to hide her smile.

Richie watches them both from the patio doors, his shirt back on and sunglasses sitting on the top of his head. He watches the way Harry looks at her, the glimmer in his eyes and the ghost of a smile on his lips. He knows the look because it’s the same look he gives his wife… the love of his life.

Richie clears his throat, decides he’s seen and heard enough and Y/N spins around, eyes a little wide but she relaxes when she sees who it is. 

“Mr. Styles, hi,” Y/N greets him with a smile and Richie nods his head at her. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiles back and Harry watches from across the room.

He reaches for the beers and takes a few steps closer until he’s behind Y/N, towering over her. 

“You comin’?” He asks her softly, feels her side brush against him when she turns and she smiles gratefully but shakes her head. 

“No, I’ve got work in ten and then I’m at the diner until close,” she explains with pursed lips. Harry nods, heart aching and this time, Harry knows what it is. Disappointment.

“Anyways, enjoy the sun. See you guys later.” Y/N bids them goodbye before she slips past Harry and jumps up the stairs two at a time, heading to her bedroom to grab her apron and diner uniform, and she’s out the front door just seconds after.

// 

It’s almost 5 p.m. and Y/N is tired. The flower shop has been quiet, the regular old man Mike coming in at three for flowers for his wife, a couple of party planners and young girl buying flowers for her mother. 

Y/N’s feet are starting to ache but if she acknowledges it now, it’ll make her seven-hour shift at the diner hell. She’s removing thorns from a bunch of roses at the counter when she hears the little bell above the door sound.

She looks up and places the clippers on the counter, a small smile on her lips when she sees who it is. 

“Hi,” she beams, happy to have some sort of human interaction after sitting in the shop alone for almost an hour. 

Richie smiles and makes his way to the counter and Y/N notices the sparkle in his eyes. The same sparkle as Harry’s. 

“What can I get you?” she asks politely, hands leaning on the counter and Richie takes a second to appreciate the beautiful flowers that decorate the shop. 

“I go back home tomorrow, wanna get some flowers for my lady.” He tells her, asks for the brightest and prettiest bunch of flowers she can.

Y/N grins and accepts the challenge, leaves the counter to pick different flowers from pre-assembled bunches and she brings back more than enough to the counter. Richie watches the small smile on her face as she picks and places them together, cutting most down to size.

She’s not like Harry’s normal type, Richie thinks. Harry’s never had a thing for quiet girls before, at least not that Richie knows of anyway. She’s a sweet girl, seems to have her head on straight and he knows she’s serious about her education and life in general. Richie thinks she’s exactly what Harry needs and his heart bursts a little.

“So, how long have you been seeing my boy?” He asks out of the blue and Y/N almost snips the tip of her finger off. 

She places the scissors down and lets out a shaky, breathy laugh. She clears her throat and places the flowers onto the counter, looking up at the older man and he stares at her, expectantly.

“No, uh… we’re not..” she trails off, but Richie raises his eyebrows higher, not buying her excuse. “We’re friends, known each other about two months now.” She defends, though she isn’t sure why she feels so defensive, like she needs to make him believe what she’s saying.

Richie nods and squints at her, humming an “mhm” like he knows something she doesn’t. 

“What?” she laughs awkwardly, heat rising to the apples of her cheeks and Richie just smiles at her, like he’s so proud and thankful, but all Y/N is, is confused.

He shakes his head. 

“Nothing…” She knows he has more to say, so she raises her brows and he huffs. “Just that in all the years I’ve raised Harry, I’ve never known him to use endearing nicknames… and I heard him call you two in a matter of ten seconds back in the house.” Y/N grows shy, sinks into herself a little at his words and she doesn’t know what to do or say.

“Not to mention he looks at you the way I look at the love of my life, but hey, what does an old man like me know.” 

He smiles kindly and Y/N begins to spiral deep in her thoughts, unable to come up with a believable excuse and her mouth runs dry, heart thumping like there’s no tomorrow as she mindlessly finishes assembling Richie’s bouquet. She places it on the counter as he drops a twenty beside it, taking the bouquet in his hands and smelling the flowers.

“Thank you for the flowers, Y/N.” He smiles at her, but she’s completely frozen in her spot, brows furrowed slightly and Richie spins around, reaching for the door when she finally snaps out of the daze she put herself in.

“Richie!” She calls out before he has the chance to open the door, his name a pleasant shock and he raises his brows at her. She scuffs her feet behind the counter. 

“What do you mean Harry doesn’t do nicknames? Why not?” She asks, curious, and the question alone tells Richie everything he needs to know.

He smiles at the girl. “To Harry, nicknames mean attachment, and Harry’s never let himself get attached to anyone.” He explains, voice soft and barely audible but Y/N hears and hangs onto every word he utters. 

Before she can even process them and ask him something else, the door is chiming and he’s gone.

// 

It’s past one when Y/N stumbles into the house. Her feet are completely raw and her legs are frozen after walking home from the diner in a yellow miniskirt. She closes the front door behind her, kicking off her tennis shoes and rubbing the sleep from beneath her eyes. She’s shrugging her jacket off when she hears it from upstairs—the yelling and stomping.

She frowns and hangs her jacket on the wall, small steps leading her to the bottom of the stairs. A tall blonde, well, taller than Y/N, comes bounding down the stairs, her jeans half buttoned and shirt all messed up. She’s furious, red in the face and gritting her teeth. Y/N’s about to ask if she’s okay when she shoves into her and almost knocks her flying.

Harry’s bounding down the stairs just as quick, catching Y/N’s arm before she can hit the floor and pulling her into him. Her palm presses against his bare chest, feels the fine hairs that decorate his skin and she’s overwhelmed and confused. It’s not until she puts the pieces together that she realises the girl is Corina and her and Harry have clearly just ended their night in a different way than planned.

Corina notices the lingering touch they share and the way he stares at her, eyes frantic like he’s making sure there’s not a scratch on her, and she scoffs. She stares at Y/N in disgust, knows who she is and she can’t help but stare at her clothes, blood boiling. 

“Of course, she’s a fucking waitress.” And Y/N’s offended, doesn’t understand what she’s done to get the sharp end of this.

Just as quickly as she spits the words, she’s running out of the door and leaving it wide open. Harry says nothing, doesn’t follow her, just closes and locks the door before turning back to Y/N. 

“You okay? Did she hurt you?” He asks gently, reaching for her again and she shakes her head, cuddling into herself out of coldness and confusion.

“What was all that about?” she breathes softly, doe eyes staring up at him and he’s suddenly blushing, scratching the back of his neck, which Y/N has learnt to be a nervous habit of his. 

“We… got into an argument. I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again.” He admits and Y/N tries to hide the giddiness she gets from his words. He won’t be seeing her again.

“Oh.” Is all she says, wiggling her toes in her ankle socks and Harry rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

It’s awkward, like she came home at the wrong time and saw something she wasn’t supposed to, and Y/N doesn’t know what to do. So she stands there with pursed lips.

“How was work?” Harry asks, breaking the silence and Y/N nods her head. 

She debates whether or not she should tell him she saw his dad, whether she should mention anything about the whole nickname situation. She doesn’t. Instead, she says, “It was okay,” and leaves it like that.

Harry nods his head and they’re back to that stupid silence again. Neither of them can understand why they’re being so weird about what just happened, it’s not like they kissed… again.

“Anyway, I’m super tired, so… I’m gonna head to bed,” she tells him, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder and Harry’s so fucking thankful she’s ending this weird conversation. 

He nods, bids her goodnight as she slowly creeps up the stairs. He watches her up, offers her a wave when she looks back at him over her shoulder and pinches the bridge of his nose when she’s out of sight.

“Jesus Christ.”

// 

There’s nothing worse than having a perfect dream and being abruptly torn from it. Y/N learns that the hard way when her obnoxious phone blares out her ringtone. She blindly reaches for her nightstand, eyes struggling to adjust to the light that filters through her room and Y/N lets out a loud groan, forgetting the field of daisies and the boy that ran with her.

She grabs her phone, accepts the call without looking at the caller and brings it to her ear. 

“Hello?” She lets out groggily, brows pinched and her head sinks further into her duck feather pillow. A screech is heard from the other line and Y/N pulls her phone away from her ear with a wince.

“Happy twenty-fourth, baby!” 

It’s her Mum, she knows it. Y/N grins sleepily to herself, stretching her tired limbs and she brings the phone back to her ear. 

“Thanks, Mum,” she raps out softly, eyes still struggling to adjust to the morning light and her stomach flips.

“What are you doing today? I’m sorry I can’t be there to celebrate with you, honey,” Jane rambles on. 

Y/N knows she’s probably holding back her tears and beating herself up about it, but she wishes she wouldn’t. Wishes Jane believed her when she says it’s okay.

“It’s alright, Mum. And I don’t know… I’m not sure if Maisee’s got anything planned or not,” Y/N shrugs, but part of her kind of hopes they make a small fuss. She wouldn’t mind pancakes for breakfast and maybe take out in the evening.

“I’m sure she does, you know what Maisee’s like.” Jane laughs, considers her to be a second daughter and Y/N laughs too. 

It’s quiet for a brief moment and they both bask in the comfort of just knowing they’re somewhat together.

“I’m really sorry I can’t make it this weekend,” Cindy continues to apologise. 

Y/N sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head and she just wants her mother to understand that she understands. Y/N knows her mother is a hard worker, knows she’s never had anything just handed to her and Jane has brought Y/N up the same way. 

Y/N grew up watching her mother fight for what they had, work seventeen-hour shifts just to make sure there was enough food on the table and to buy Y/N the books she needed for school.

Y/N watched her mother claw her way up the nursing ladder for years, comforted her on the nights she’d come home in tears after losing a patient, cooking her dinner at three in the morning when she got home from a long shift. Y/N was her mothers’ mother and they were each other’s best friends.

“Mum, stop… I’m coming back to Kingston in a few weeks for spring break anyway, it’s okay, it’s just a birthday,” Y/N shrugs it off and Jane knows her daughter’s being completely honest. They’ve never lied to each other and Y/N wasn’t about to start now.

She hears Jane sigh from the other line and a little smile graces Y/N’s lips. She won. 

“Okay, you win. Your card should come in the mail today and you get your presents when you come home. That okay?” Y/N smiles and sits herself up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and she can only imagine the mess her hair must be.

“That’s perfect, mum,” she sighs out.

“Okay, I’m gonna go. I got my final assessment in an hour and I need to get to work. Have a great birthday, baby. I love you!” Jane sends kisses down the phone.

Y/N laughs. “Bye, mum. Good luck, let me know how it goes. Love you!”

They end the call and Y/N throws her phone to the empty right side of her bed, sinking back into her pillow and she blows a few strands of hair out of her face.

Twenty-four and she doesn’t feel any fucking different.

Her morning routine is the same. Y/N gets out of bed and uses the bathroom, washes her face and brushes her teeth, makes her bed and has a quick shower. She dresses in a flowy, yellow summer dress and slips her feet into her Converse. Y/N lets her natural waves cascade past her shoulders and down her back as she fills in her brows and coats a layer of mascara to her lashes.

She’s bounding down the stairs soon after, tucking hair behind her ear. It’s quiet, only soft mumbles in the kitchen from her housemates. Y/N reaches the bottom of the stairs when she notices the lack of banners and balloons. Part of her is thankful no one has made a big deal out of it, but another part of her feels a little disappointed.

Y/N makes her way through the foyer and into the kitchen with a beaming smile, a little skip in her step but no one acknowledges her presence. There’s no birthday cards or a smiley group of friends. There’s no pancakes.

Y/N purses her lips. “Morning,” she mumbles out, swaying on the balls and heels of her feet and everyone mutters out a ‘hi,’ in the most disinterested way possible. 

Maisee’s got her head in her phone as she picks at her cereal. Dean and Raegen are too busy whispering like children with small smiles on their faces. Mackey and Oliver are half asleep on the counter and Harry’s sitting across from them all, earphones in and his MacBook on his lap.

“You got mail, by the way,” Maisee waves her hand to the front door, not bothering to look up from her phone and a very heavy sinking feeling sits in the pit of Y/N’s stomach. 

They forgot about her birthday. 

Y/N nods and quietly thanks her, feet shuffling back to the front door and she picks up the three letters addressed from her.

She stares at them, knows the cursive writing on the first one is from her grandma and grandpa, the one with the writing that resembles hers is from her mother, and the one with the printed text right off the computer is from her father. She’s shocked he remembered.

Y/N shakes her head and takes a minute to compose herself, throws the cards back onto the little entry table and clears her throat. She shouldn’t be upset that her friends forgot her birthday, she’s never liked a fuss made of her anyway, she shouldn’t be upset.

Y/N tugs her sundress down her hips a little, wiggles her toes and wanders back into the kitchen. No one pays much mind to her, save for Harry, who peers up at her with lidded eyes but she misses the curious squint he offers.

She grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and bumps it closed with her hip. 

“What’s everyone doing today?” she asks as she uncaps her water. 

She earns a collection of mumbles that she somewhat translates to 'nothing much,’ and Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip.

Harry watches her, notices the harsh disappointment on her soft features and he’s so confused as to what’s going through her head. He wants to ask her, pull her aside and make sure everything’s okay, but they haven’t spoken in four days, since that whole situation with Corina, and he’s beginning to think he’s done something to upset her.

He hasn’t spoken to Corina, either. Blocked her number and deleted her on any socials he had her on. He took his dad’s advice, started a fresh.

Harry’s been focusing on his school work and writing songs for Professor Lennon the past few days and if he’s being honest, he feels good.

“Okay,” Y/N says to herself, pops her cap back on the water and she purses her lips. “Well, I’m going to work. Guess I’ll just see you all later,” she mumbles, eyes downcast and Harry’s almost fucking certain he sees her bottom lip quiver a little.

//

It’s been a shit day, to say the least. The milkshake machine threw up on Y/N within the first ten minutes of her shift starting, and her stupid boss refused to let her go home to change. She’s been verbally abused by customers all afternoon, a bunch of bikers riding through town and trying to cop a feel while she was waiting on them.

She’s felt icky all day and she just wants to go home, shower, and forget about the complete and utter disaster of her forgotten twenty-fourth birthday. She’s close to tears when she parks outside the house and the Nissan stinks of banana split.

Her grandparents called her on her break, wished her love and happiness, and she’s still to hear from her father, but that much is expected. Y/N’s kicking the rubble beneath her feet when she makes her way up the steps to the porch. 

The lights are off and she supposes everyone’s out. It’s 10 p.m. on a Saturday night, there’s no reason for them to be home, and Y/N’s thankful for the chance to cry in peace.

But when she pushes through the door and flicks the light on, there are bodies jumping out from every hidden corner, balloons on the ceiling and party poppers are going off in her face. 

Y/N lets out a frantic scream, hands covering her face and she can hear music and laughter. She squints her eyes open, heart dropping and stomach swirling. 

“Happy 24th, Y/N!” Maisee screams at the top of her lungs, pretty dress holding her hips and Y/N feels severely underdressed. 

Maisee pulls her into a hug, kisses her forehead and pushes her to greet her guests. Everyone’s there. Her friends from her English study group and other classes, a few of Mackey and Olly’s friends that she’s spent time hanging with. It’s everyone she knows and she couldn’t be more grateful.

“Oh my God,” she breathes out, tears in her eyes and she swears she’s about to burst into tears. 

She’s pulled into hugs from everyone, chatting and drinking and dancing and she feels so fucking good, feels the thing everyone says she would. She feels liberated.

“Let me change, hold on,” she tells Maisee as she tries to drag Y/N out to the backyard. 

Maisee rolls her eyes but lets her, nonetheless. Y/N’s running up the stairs with a grin, untying her apron and shimmying out of her skirt in the process. She’s in only her underwear when she closes the door, making for the closet when she sees something on her nightstand.

A bouquet of trilliums sits on the surface, a tall bag of Horlicks beside it and Y/N frowns as she picks up the folded flower card that leans against her lamp.

Happy Birthday….

Saw the flowers and thought of u.

Oh and I used all ur horlicks so here’s a new bag, you were right, I’m out like a light after LOL.

Love, Harry x

Y/N blushes, heat rising through her body and she can’t help but giggle at her gift, but she’s still thankful, nonetheless. She gently places the card back on her nightstand before rummaging through her closet, opting on a black, floral wrap dress and she’s bouncing back down the stairs.

//

It’s been two hours and Y/N’s feeling brave. She’s drinking a little more than she knows she should (three drinks being the usual limit and she’s now on her fifth), but she’s enjoying herself. She’s wedged on the couch between Maisee and the armrest, her head on her friend’s shoulder and Maisee coos her.

“You’re so great, Mais,” Y/N sighs out, eyes fluttering closed and she’s growing even more appreciatively grateful for the little get together her best friend had assembled. 

“I know, baby,” Maisee tells her, a smirk on her lips and Y/N lets out a snorted giggle.

It’s quiet for a few seconds, save for the music and the laughter of the other partygoers. Y/N takes a moment to sober up a little, to sift through her thoughts and she’s only now realising that she hasn’t seen Harry all night and she remembers the flowers on her nightstand.

“Is Harry here?” she asks quietly. 

Y/N feels dirty, like she shouldn’t be asking such an innocent question, and in her hazy state, Maisee nods through a yawn. 

“Think he’s in the yard,” she tells her and Y/N hums.

She waits on the couch for a few more passing moments and nibbles on her bottom lip. She debates whether she should go through with what she wants to do… whether she actually has the guts to tell him what she needs to. But before Y/N can fully comprehend those thoughts, she’s telling Maisee she needs the bathroom and she’s searching for him.

Y/N weaves through her friends and acquaintances, one goal on her mind and she’s eager to tell him. She prays he feels the same, he must do. She can’t stop thinking about everything Richie told her, about the longing looks, the nicknames. Y/N’s certain there’s something between them, she can feel it in her bones.

She makes her way into the kitchen, trying to suppress her beaming smile and she searches for his fluffy head of curls, knows he hasn’t been slicking them back lately, even if they have been avoiding each other since that night with Corina.

She’s on her tiptoes, surprised by how crowded the kitchen is and when she sees that mop of brown curls, her smile grows to twice its size. She can see the tight pink shirt he’s wearing and the black corduroy pants, and he looks good, so good.

Y/N’s about to move closer when the man in front of her, that was blocking her view, wanders off and she can see his pretty face so clearly. But the smile slips from her face just as quickly as it appeared as Harry dips his head down and envelops another girl’s lips with his.

It’s like she’s drowning. Her heart sinks to the pit of her stomach, knees tingling and her throat feels like it’s closing in. Everything around her is black and white, everything but him and her. The air is being sucked out of the room and she feels that familiar feeling of impending doom crashing over her.

You’re so stupid, Y/N. He never liked you!

She’s almost panting for air when she watches Harry pull away, a cocky smirk on his lips and the girl beside him looks fucking gorgeous as she tries to catch her own breath. Y/N knows that kiss, knows the way it makes someone’s knees buckle and head grow cloudy.

Y/N doesn’t feel the tears that begin to pool in her eyes, but she feels all self-confidence quickly evade her nerves and she feels so fucking small. Harry feels eyes on him and he doesn’t expect to see a heartbroken Y/N staring right at him.

He sees the pain in her eyes and the little twitch of her lips as they curve into a frown. Harry lets go of the girl beside him, didn’t have any interest in learning her name at the beginning of the night and he certainly doesn’t have any interest now.

He’s focused on Y/N and the way she tries her hardest to give him an encouraging smile, despite the fact that she’s fucking crumbling within herself. She nods her head and spins on the heels of her feet and Harry doesn’t miss the frown that quickly takes over her fake smile before she’s rushing for the front door.

Harry doesn’t say a word to the girl beside him, just brushes past her and follows Y/N. Harry doesn’t know why he chases after her or feels the need to tell her the kiss meant nothing, but he also doesn’t give himself a chance to think about it. He just needs to get to Y/N.

He thinks he’s lost her when he gets to the lounge, can’t see any sign of her pretty black dress or her full head of hair but then he sees the front door slowly swing closed and he stops it before it locks, rushing outside and closing it behind him.

The air is cold, freezing, actually and he can see her shivering as she sits on the bottom steps of the front porch. Harry purses his lips and slowly eases closer to her, sits beside her and stretches his legs out the best he can. She’s silent beside him, too busy staring at the concrete beneath them.

Y/N takes a deep breath. It’s now or never, she tells herself. Harry’s oblivious beside her. 

“I don’t know when I’m next gonna feel confident enough to do this, and hell, maybe I shouldn’t be doing this at all, but I need to. I need to,” she mutters out, brows knitted like she’s trying to convince herself and Harry can’t help but frown in confusion.

She turns around, eyes watering and he gets a good look at her. She looks distraught, but in the most fucking beautiful way possible. 

“Honey… what’s going on?” Harry whispers, doesn’t miss the way her breathing hitches in her throat and his hands are growing clammy and he’s got that uneasy feeling in his stomach again.

“I like you,” she blurts out, eyes wide and Harry blinks. “Like, I wanna be with you, like you,” she’s whispering as her voice dies out from its confidence to uncertainty. 

She can hear her heart pounding heavily in her ears and Harry clears his throat, feels like it’s about to close in on him.

He can’t believe it, it can’t be true. Harry stares at her for a few moments, tries to find any indication that she’s joking, or if it was a spur of the moment thing, but all he can see are insecurities and pure adoration and she’s swaying just a little.

“Y/N,” he begins, taking her cold, dainty hands in his huge ones and he rubs his thumb against the divots of her knuckles. 

“You’re drunk, petal,” he laughs lightheartedly, like he needs to believe that’s the reason she’s saying this… like he doesn’t deserve for her to mean it.

Y/N shakes her head and pulls her hands out of his grasp, standing to her feet and pacing in a small circle. 

“No… I mean, maybe a little, but I’m still honest,” she reasons and she’s in her head again, drowning in her insecurities like every other night.

“But it’s okay, you don’t have to like me back, it’s nothing new. I don’t expect for someone as incredible as you to even glance at someone like me. It just doesn’t ever happen, I should know that by now,” Y/N rambles to herself, let’s her fears and self-doubt feast on her and Harry grabs her hand and gently tugs so she’s sitting beside him again.

She plops down, pout weighing on her pretty lips and Harry brings her hands to his mouth, peppering kisses to her knuckles. 

“Y/N, you are incredible. Not me. I don’t deserve you,” he tells her breathlessly. 

His heart is aching and he just wants to hold her. It’s an odd emotional reaction for Harry, but he doesn’t question it.

“If I’m so incredible, how come no one wants me?” Y/N sniffles, her nose a little runny and Harry’s lip involuntarily pouts back at her. 

She doesn’t expect the impact of his soft lips on hers, but she doesn’t fight it either.

Harry holds her clammy cheeks in the palms of his hands, suckles softly on her bottom lip and Y/N loses all sense of reality. Her fingers thread through his curls as she tugs at them softly, kisses him back with all of her drunken might and neither of them mind the taste of alcohol on the others tongues.

“I want you,” he whispers against her lips.

//

Feedback is always appreciated!!

Tags: @kissfromadove @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever @babyyhoneyyy @theresnooneheretosave @ellaorchard @itsmytimetoodream @daphnesutton @matildasatellite

[xifere]

xifere presents… kenji sato x gn!reader

content warnings… 18+, not proofread, sub!kenji sato, edging, solo masturbation, pet names, praise kink, might be a lil ooc, kenji can’t be discreet over the phone

How embarrassing, really, Kenji thought. He stared at himself in the mirror across from him as he sat on the edge of his neatly made bed, hands positioned behind him. He hadn’t seen you in what felt like months, and now the evidence was staring right back at him, though covered by the thick layer of his black sweats. It ached. He wanted nothing more than to relieve himself, but he knew himself. He can’t cum without your help.

And yet, he was desperate. Already, he was breathing heavily as he took a shaky hand and palmed his clothes dick. He let out a deep sigh before pulling down the waistband of his sweats juuuust enough for his cock to bobble up. The air was cold against his sensitive tip, and a hiss left his lips. Kenji wasted no time wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, just the way you do, trying to stimulate the same movements you used. He glanced up and caught a glimpse of himself biting his lip with a slightly flushed face in an attempt to hush himself from sounding so pathetic.

He imagined you behind him, guiding him to his orgasm, and the image itself makes him forget any rational thoughts.

“Fu-hhhh…”

That one time you really did sit behind him, whispering sweet nothings in his ears, reminding him how much of a slut he was for you while praising him all the same, popped up in his mind, and he couldn't help but stroke faster. Your sultry voice, your breath on his ears, the teasing kisses you gave him. Oh, how he fucking mi–

A loud ringtone filled the quiet room. Startled, he let go of himself, and his incoming orgasm was lost. But he quickly recognized the ringtone– it was the one he picked specifically for you.

But shit. Could the timing have been any worse better? At this point, his tip was fuming. An angry red, his slit trickling pre. He couldn't stop now, but he wasn't going to skip your call either.

“Hey baby… what's up?”

“Just wanted to say you did great today, sweetheart. I saw your little heroic moment on the news.” God, and the first thing you do is praise him. He feels like a horny teen again, the way he wraps his hands around his cock just to jerk off at the sound of your voice. You wouldn't mind though, right?

A shaky, “Yea?” was all he could manage without revealing his actions to you.

“Mhm, and also just to say sorry for not being able to see you lately. Work has been so busy and…” he could listen to you for hours. He stroked himself to the pace of your words, squeezing tighter every time he went over his tip. He couldn't do the same motions as you, his brain already too preoccupied with you and his need to empty his balls.

“Ken? Ken, baby, I know it’s been a few days, but if you’ve missed me that much, you could've just told me.”

He didn't even realize. He'd already gotten too comfortable, his back against the bed, one hand holding his phone to his ear, the other hand stroking his cock, and his throat eliciting all the evidence you could ever ask for. You'd never mistake these moans for anything but pleas for pleasure.

But being caught only spurred him on more. “Hahh– missed… you s’ much…” You couldn't hear them as well as his breathy groans, but the sound of slick was filling up the room, slowly but surely.

“Don’t you dare cum, Ken.” He stopped. A whine. You loved it. The way the pitch of his voice rose when he didn't get what he wanted. And he wanted more, so why should he listen? He thought he would break with how much his cock ached. Yet his hand was still at the base of his dick. “I’m coming over right now, so sit pretty like the good boy you are.”

He so terribly wanted to disobey you, show you he doesn't always have to be a good boy for you, but he knew himself. He wouldn't have been able to cum without you anyways.

[fcthots]

You’re sitting on the couch of your shared apartment when Jason climbs in through the window, finally done with patrol. His entrance makes you look up from your phone. He reaches up and tugs his helmet off. His hair looks a little funny, but it also made him look good. He didn’t need the ego boost though. You can tell he had an eventful patrol by the smile on his face.

He walks towards you and drops his hand onto your arm. He lets it slide down until his hand rests on yours. He pulls your hand to his lips in greeting. “Hey, princess.” He squeezes your hand before giving it back to you.

“How was patrol?” You watch as he strips off his outer layers of gear. The display never gets old.

“Good.” He laughs. “But I have got to tell you what happened. Red Robin, Tim, smacked into Red Robin, the restaurant. It was completely by accident too. I begged Babs to get me the camera footage. She’s searching as we speak.”

You laugh at his enthusiasm and the way he laughed before he even finished the story. You ask him questions, he answers them. It continues until he goes to take his shower.

You turn back to your phone. This is where it all goes wrong, because you see a post that ruins your day. It reads, “the first time most men receive flowers is at their funeral.”

Evil. Illegal. Unacceptable. Had you really never given Jason flowers before? You swore you did but your memory came up empty. By the time you finished your existential flower crisis, Jason finished showering and called you to bed. He’s exhausted and falls asleep quickly. You, however, stay awake and plan. You will get the love of your life flowers. You will not let the first time he receives flowers to be at his funeral. You fall asleep trying to decide what flowers he would like best.

You wake up before him, getting up as gently as possible. If he wakes up with you, he’ll trap you for cuddles in his huge beefy inescapable arms, so you must be careful. You wouldn’t have been able to do it if you didn’t know Jason as well as you do.

You get ready as silently and as quickly as possible before sliding out the door. The nearest flower shop isn’t too far. You make it there and back in 30 minutes, and most of that time was spent deciding what flowers you wanted to get Jason.

You walk home with a bouquet of simple red roses with some baby’s breath sprinkled in. It’s wrapped in black paper with a read bow, a color combination you’re sure he’ll love.

You walk home a little slower, careful not to disturb the flowers cradled in your arms. The long walk leaves you to your thoughts. You wonder how Jason will react.

And then you get worried. What if he thinks it’s weird? Jason has never called you weird unaffectionately before, but what if this is what does it? Or, even worse, what if he pretends to like them but actually thinks it’s weird? You spiral a little and panic. You eventually walk head first into your door on muscle memory.

You make sure the flowers are okay before opening the door. You hide the bouquet behind your back. To your surprise, Jason is awake and in the kitchen. His morning voice greets you with a smile. “Did you just walk into the door?”

Your worry begins to fade and a smile crawls its way onto your face. “Shut up.”

He laughs and the sound makes you blush. You love him. “You did!”

“And to think I was out getting you a present.” You shake your head.

“You got me a present?” He looks a like an excited puppy.

“I got my loving boyfriend a present. Let me know if you see him.” You pretend as if you’re about to walk out.

Jason rushes over to you smiling. “Wait, no! He’s right here! Please! I want my present!”

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you thrust the flowers at him. He takes them from you, his smile softening. “Do you like them?”

He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “What are these for? They’re beautiful. I love them.” You watch him feel the petals with a gentle smile that he can’t seem to help.

You tell him about the post you saw, and how you couldn’t let the first time he got flowers be at his funeral. He pauses. “Babe. I really love the flowers. Seriously. Best gift ever. But um. The first time I got flowers was at my funeral.” He watches your face.

You lift a hand and cover your mouth. “Oh my god.” He laughs and uses one had to hug to you to his chest.

“I really love the sentiment! It means a lot! I love them so much!” He smiles into your hair as you wrap your arms around him.

“That’s why I remember buying you flowers before but couldn’t remember giving them to you. I feel terrible.”

“Don’t. This was so sweet, seriously. If it wasn’t the ass crack of dawn, I would cry.”

You laugh. “It’s past noon.”

He huffs. “Same thing. We were up until like 4.”

“This is true,” you say. “I still feel so bad though. I can’t believe I forgot you had a funeral already.”

He laughs and you can feel it in his chest. “The idea was really sweet, princess. I love the flowers. You just made my day. Nay, my week.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, you running into the door really sealed the deal.”

You push on his chest. “I hate you.”