#designer!harry styles

[itsnevercasual]

Uptown Girl

pairing: fashion designer!harry x younger!fashion designer!reader

summary: you’re working in a designer boutique, and just so happen to have a late entrance when world-renowned designer harry styles visits for a collaboration. he seems to take a liking to you, and you aren’t sure if that makes you relieved or more anxious

warnings: some cursing, not edited as usual

-

harry styles was a well-known name. ceo and founder of pleasing, a nail polish and perfume company. he also owned many other companies, but really, there were too many to keep track of. he was also, most importantly, one of the biggest fashion icons.

you were very familiar with him— had saved up every penny when you were younger to buy a pleasing perfume and now owned a very small collection of their nail polishes.

so, of course, you lost your shit when you found out he’d be coming into your job.

you were a fashion design major at nyu, and had gotten a job at a very esteemed designer (not one of the name brands, but still). although you did expect the job to have more opportunities to.. actually design fashion, you were still grateful nonetheless.

it was just your luck that the day that harry styles was coming in, you were late. it wasn’t your fault! really, it wasn’t! you were always on time because you got anxious at the mere thought of being late.

by the time you parked, you practically ran to the store, silently praying you wouldn’t break a leg as you were running in heels.

“i’m not late am i?” you ask breathlessly as you finally enter the store, fixing your hair and outfit.

you had curled your hair the night before, so they were still pretty much intact. your outfit consisted of black heels, brown dress pants, and a black, tight-fitting turtleneck.

“yes, y/n. you are late,” your boss gave you a look, and you knew you’d be in trouble. “mr. styles, i am so sorry. our employs are.. usually punctual.”

your head snaps over to look in the direction she was talking, and your heart drops when you make eye contact with harry styles.

great.

“mr. styles, i am so sorry,” you apologize.

“it’s perfectly alright,” he gives a kind smile.

that makes you feel a bit better.

“y/n, a word in my office please.”

you deflate as you look back to your boss and follow her to her office

the second the door is closed, she’s chewing you out.

“how unprofessional can you be? i know you are in college, but jesus christ!”

“i’m sorry! there was so much traffic, and my car is so old it stops working if i go faster than 50, and—“

“i don’t need excuses,” she cuts you off. “i need you to be more professional.”

you inhale, “i am sorry, but it was not my fault. i have never once been late before, and you know that. it was a one-time mistake.”

“it better be.”

she walks out and slams the door to the office, leaving you alone in there.

you look up to the ceiling as you bite your lip and try not to cry.

after taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you walk back out into the otherwise empty store and slap a smile on your face.

you do your usual tasks of tidying the store and fixing the mannequins.

mr. styles, his team, and your boss (her name was diane but she was more like satan) were all working on sketching designs and throwing some fabrics onto the mannequins to get a rough idea of what they wanted.

“i don’t know if i like it,” mr. styles murmurs, staring at the mannequin. you glace over at it and have to force yourself to not make a face.

no shit, he didn’t like it. it was bad.

the sketch was good, but the color combination was all wrong and the whole thing was too.. chunky. in the way that everything was flowy and baggy, so it had no shape.

“well, what do you not like about it?” diane asks.

“i’m not sure. it doesn’t look quite right.”

“you have to fix the shape,” you say to yourself as you fix the files of custom orders to be done.

“what was that?”

your head snaps up, and you realize he heard you.

“oh. uh.. i was just—“

“talking to herself,” diane interrupts, glaring at you. “she’s an intern. don’t mind her.”

“no, i’d like to hear what she has to say. might have the answer to our issue. let’s hear it— what was your name again?”

“y/n l/n,” you squeak out.

“well, y/n, what do you think is wrong?”

you hesitantly walk over, “well.. i can see the idea. but it’s just not.. executed well. the whole thing is too flowy.”

“isn’t the point for it to flow?” he asks, raising a brow.”

“it is,” you answer quickly, “but.. there has to be something that isn’t as.. baggy, i suppose. something has to be tight-fitting. it doesn’t have any shape. it just kinda.. looks like a box.”

he stares at you for a moment, and diane clears her throat.

“y/n, this is time for the professionals. get back to—“

“no, diane. she is.. she’s right. it does need shape.”

at his words, the people around him begin to pin it differently.

“and the colors,” you rush out. “the colors don’t.. it’s supposed to be a statement piece, right?”

“that’s the goal,” he nods.

“well.. the colors are too.. light. they’re more pastel, which is fine, but for it to really be a statement, it’s better to use brighter ones. or at least make one of them brighter. i would.. i think make the base the brighter one.”

diane looks ready to kill you.

mr. styles laughs, “well, don’t you know a lot? diane, where did you find her? wish my interns knew half as much as her.”

your face grows hot.

“she’s a student,” diane sighs.

“a student?” he asks.

“i… uh.. i study fashion at nyu. fashion design— i’m in my last year.”

he seems to sense that you're damn near about to shit your pants, because he grins at you (slightly patronizing, but also kind), before turning back to diane.

"i'd like her to be with me for the rest of the project. y/n, darling, how much are y'makin' here?"

your stutter, "uh--... $15 an hour."

he tuts his tongue like that's horrible, "i'll pay.. ten times that while y'workin' with me."

your eyes widen, "wh-- that's not-- you don't have to--"

"nonsense. it's what most people i work with start with. i'll up it if needed, of course. and you obviously don't have to, but i'd love your insight."

"i-- no, i-- i'd love to, i.."

"great," he grins, and you're extremely dizzy. what the hell was going on?

"uh.. mr. styles, if i may give my opinion," diane pipes up.

"you may," he eyes her skeptically.

"y/n is a student. she's still learning, and she's never worked on anything here. it's very risky to--"

he cuts her off by asking you a question, "have you designed things? sketched 'em out and all that?"

you nod.

"i'd hope you've also done the whole... actually sewing things together and really making them?"

you nod again.

he turns back to diane, "seems like she's got experience," he looks back to you, "do y'have photos of any of those?"

"yeah-- they're.. i think i left them in my car. i have photos on my phone."

"we'll meet later to look at all that, then. i'll give you my number later. for now.. i'd like your input on our other ideas."

-

for the rest of the day, you follow harry around, and you sort of feel like a lost puppy just following him around and answering when he asks something of you.

after a while, you got more comfortable giving your input without being prompted, but you always tiptoed around what you were really trying to get at in fear that you'd anger him.

at the end of day, he put your number in his phone with the promise that he'd text you later about more details.

-

the text came three days later.

From: (Maybe): Harry

Hello, Y/N. This is Harry. Would you be free to meet tomorrow at noon to discuss the details of the project? Please bring your sketches and any photos of designs you've done, and anything else you feel necessary.

To: Harry Styles

Hi! I should be free tomorrow, yeah. Where do you want to go?

From: Harry Styles

I'll let you decide.

To: Harry Styles

There is this one coffee shop named Maman?

Sent Location: 239 Centre St, New York, NY

From: Harry Styles

Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Have a nice rest of your day.

To: Harry Styles

You too!

-

you spend the rest of your night fretting about what to wear. you were stuck in between classy but not too fancy, but also not too casual. comfy, but not so comfy that you looked like you didn't give a shit. but also not so uncomfortable that you were, well, uncomfortable, and looked like you were trying too hard.

you'd eventually settled for something simple. long, light-wash denim skirt, a plain black top, and some mary janes. you tied some of your hair back with a white ribbon, did some natural makeup, and called it a day.

you got to the coffee shop at 11:45 and ordered your drink, as well as a chocolate croissant.

harry walked in at exactly 12:00, and grinned when he saw you sitting at a table, scrolling on your phone with a manilla folder and sketchbook beside you.

-

really, you can't blame him! you were pretty, he'd have to be blind to not know that. and really, you weren't that much younger than him.

he's 29, and you're 23. he's not a stalker, he just did a background check like any good business person would do.

so what he finds you cute? the relationship would be strictly professional. besides, you deserved a break from your horrible boss. contrary to what diane thought, the walls were not soundproof, and he could hear her chewing you out.

sure, he'd done that to one of his employees once or twice, but it was always deserved, and never on the first time of being late. that was ridiculous.

"good morning, y/n," he greets. your head snaps up to make eye contact and he has to force himself to not laugh. he wasn't laughing at you, per se. it was more so the fact that he found it amusing how jumpy you seemed around him.

"good morning. did you order?"

"not yet. never been here, so i've got no clue what's good."

you open your mouth to respond, but the barista calls out, "large iced honey lavender latte with a pain au chocolat for y/n!"

you give a sheepish smile and run up to retrieve your food and drink. when you come back, you take a sip of your drink and set what looks to be a chocolate croissant down on the table.

"well, i'm more of an iced coffee girl. and i also don't really like the taste of coffee, so i've got a bunch of sugar in mine. what do you usually drink?"

"'m more of a black coffee, to be honest. iced is fine, but hot's better."

you wrinkle your nose, "i don't know how you stand the taste of coffee. it's so bitter."

"better than what you've got!" he laughs, "might as well just down a sugar packet."

you giggle at his teasing, "only psychos drink plain black coffee. this," you hold up your drink, "is so much better."

"oh, is it now?"

"yes, it is," you cross your arms proudly.

"lemme have a taste."

you hand over the drink, and he takes a small sip before coughing, "christ, y/n! that cannot be good for your health!"

"hey, i'm still alive, aren't i?" you shrug.

“that you are.”

“well… just ask for an americano, i guess. the rest of their drinks are kinda sugary and fun.”

he got his drink, and once the both of you were sat down, he got to business.

“so, how long have you been designing?”

“i’ve been doing it since middle school. i.. uh.. i saw that one american girl doll movie. where she was a designer. and i just got obsessed. obviously they weren’t good, but…”

“so you’ve got a lot of experience then?”

you nod. he grins.

“may i see the sketches?”

you grab the folder off the top of the sketchbook and pass it over to him.

he flips through it in silence for a few minutes, and you anxiously nibble at the skin around your fingernails.

“..so?” you ask.

“they’re great. really, you’ve got talent. i can’t draw for shit, so you’ve got me beat,” he laughs.

you laugh with him, “most of those are just ideas, i’ve never made them. but i have photos of the ones i have made. i printed them so it’s easier.”

you pass over the manilla folder, and he opens it to look at all the photos you’d printed out. there was around fifty— those were just the ones you actually liked and were confident showing.

he holds one up, and your cheeks flush. “why’s this the only one where you’re the model?” he asks.

“that was.. uh.. that’s my senior prom dress.”

his eyes widen, giving you an impressed look, “you made your own prom dress?”

you nod, “i just wanted something very specific, so.. i figured i’d just make it myself.”

“y’look great— the dress looks great,” he coughs. “you’re very talented.”

“thank you,” you blush.

“so tell me why someone as talented as you is working in diane’s shop not designing a single thing?”

“i didn’t realize that was the job. i just got excited when my professor told me they were interested in my work, so i took the job. i thought i’d at least do a little designing, but.. it pays.. decent, though.”

he scoffs, “darling, 15 bucks an hour is not decent pay. that’s what you make being a hostess. you’re an artist. someone would pay thousands of dollars for just your sketches.”

“i don’t think i’m that good—“

“you are,” he’s firm. resolute. there is no room for argument with him. “i think you’ll be a great asset to the project. i could use your… talent. i’ll send you an email with the nitty gritty details. i’ll see you soon, y/n.”

and with that, he stands and leaves, leaving you to sit there, dumbfounded, confused, and grinning.

-

a/n: guys i have too many series going on 😭😭

[toorumlk]

ron and hermione photographed on the steps of their first home together makes it into the Prophet

[enyasaints]

Rationing Insulin.

I have been rationing my insulin at the expense of my health because I simply do not have the funds to replace pens. As a result my blood sugar has been spiking and staying stagnant at dangerously high levels.

Venmo: EnyaSaint

CA: $Enyasaint

I do not know or want to know what possessed me to ration my medication knowing I could possibly die from it. I haven’t been in my right state of mind in a while.

Currently I am on the medication Toujeo and I am uninsured so I have to pay out of pocket. So I am utilizing GoodRx to get me the cheapest option. I would be so immensly grateful to anyone who could spare towards my medication. I am running dangerously low and I don’t want to die from DKA.

Goal: $365

Venmo: Enyasaint

CA: Enyasaint

[meltingfin1]

I present to you, Louis Tomlinson's tattooed hands

All credits to picture owners

[thequeenwechoose]

Jacerys Velaryon's tunic with targaryen emblem in House of the Dragon Season 2

[cowboylikelyric]

strip (famous!harry x fashion designer!y/n)

Summary: A focused CEO Y/N clashes with an unprofessional but alluring Harry Styles, their heated partnership testing patience and stirring unexpected tension.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: nothing much, angsty

A/N: hey guys.... it's been a while. the writing bug bit me tonight, so you guys have the start to a new series that i will hopefully finish. i know that there's no smut, but hoping you guys will still love it. more to come in up coming parts!

---

      You stomp quickly through the halls of the office, your folder tucked in the crease of your arm against your body. At the sound of your heels clicking, everyone stiffens in their seats and people in passing move to the side of the hallway, out of your way. On a regular basis, your employees weren’t threatened by you like this. But when the click of your heels went up an octave, they all knew to stay out of your lane. 

      When you stepped into your assistant Heather’s office, she must not have picked up on the cues considering she began by greeting you with a, “Good morning, Y/N! All good this morning?”

      You ignore her greeting and cut straight to the chase, “Do you have any idea where he is?” Heather’s face drops and surely her stomach too. You look down at your watch and up at her again, “It’s quarter ‘til 10. He was meant to be here 45 minutes ago.” 

      Your assistant immediately reaches for her telephone, pressing it against her ear as she types in the sequence of numbers. Heather sits there for a second as the phone rings, biting her lip until you hear a faint click and someone speaks. “Hi Abby, yes, this is Heather Rossi, Y/N Y/L/N’s assistant, and I was just calling to check in about Y/N and Mr. Styles’ meeting this morning. It was meant to start approximately 45 minutes ago, but we still have no signs of Mr. Styles.” You lean against the door frame, possibly looking like a cartoon character with steam spewing from your ears. 

      Heather nods as she listens to the person on the opposite end. “A miscommunication, I understand.” You roll your eyes and scoff. Heather gives you an apologetic look. “Will you excuse me for a moment while I talk to Miss. Y/L/N?” She puts the call on hold before looking up to you. “Are we rescheduling or will you still take him?” 

      You sigh and shake your head, “We have to take him today. We’re under a strict schedule, there’s no time for rescheduling.” Heather nods and picks up the call again.

      “Yeah, so we’re going to need for Mr. Styles to come in today. Scheduling is tight and there is really no time for rescheduling.” She pauses for a second as she hears Abby’s response. “Asap would be great. Perfect, thank you.” When Heather hangs up the phone, she gives you a roll of the eye. “20 minutes.” She sighs.

      You groan and decide that you might as well take a seat in her office. “This guy is actually creeping onto my last nerve.”

      Normal people would just tell you to get rid of him, and it has crossed your mind plenty of times, but it just wouldn’t be good for your company. Aurelia, your clothing brand, thrived when he was wearing your clothes, unfortunately. His first advertisement boosted your sales by almost 50%. It felt almost insulting, but you couldn’t really deny that it was rewarding. And of course his assistant came running back to you. Whatever was good for your company, was even better for him. 

      However, while this partnership was very important to his team,  modeling was not his top priority. In fact, it was probably last on his personal list. On a normal day, he was a music artist. He’d show up to proposals in wrinkled button ups and sunglasses to shadow his hangovers. Overall, he showed no respect for you or your brand for that matter. So, it seemed to you that he was treating this partnership as extra spending money. It infuriated you. 

      Heather nods, “Mine as well. I mean, he could at least try and take the whole thing more seriously.” 

      “Tell me about it,” You lay your folder down on her desk and sit back in the guest chair in front of it. “Abby’s always like, ‘He really appreciates this opportunity,’ with that sweet smile. And while I appreciate excitement, I don’t appreciate lies.” Heather snorts out a laugh before picking up the coffee mug in front of her, handing it to you. 

      “I think you might need this more than I do.” You accept it and take a large sip, feeling the warmth travel down your body. “I’ll make sure I stock up on some tequila next time.” That cracks a good laugh out of you.

      While most CEO’s look down upon their assistants, You praise yours. Heather is an angel sent from above, and most of the time, her work is harder than yours is. She keeps everything on track, aside from Styles' shenanigans which you can’t blame her for, and does it like it’s nothing. She’s the real lady boss.

      “Okay, well let me get down there and prepare for their arrival,” You scoop up your folder and take the mug of coffee with you. “And would you consider coming down to teach Abby how reminders work in online calendars? She’s driving me up the wall.” 

      She laughs, “I’ll be there.” You exit the office with somewhat less of a temper, giving everyone a good morning as you pass, despite you not having one. When you make your way down to the lobby, You watch as a petite woman with icy blonde hair and lash extensions enters through the doors. Abby. And the man you were supposed to see over an hour ago following close behind.

      Harry Styles.

      “Good Morning! I’m so sorry for our tardiness.” Abby clatters near you, grabbing your shoulder as she apologizes. You remove her hand, painting on a smile.

      “That’s alright, Heather’s gonna set up a joint online calendar with you today, so there are no more misunderstandings.” On your part, you want to say. You peak around her to see Harry with his head buried in his phone. You clear your throat and his head lifts. “Harry.” You say, your neck is stiff and your nose is tilted. 

      “Y/N.” He’s dressed in ripped jeans and a loose t-shirt that contains a few holes, as well as glasses that you’ve seen him in one or two times. He slides his phone into his back pocket. “What are ya dressing me up in today?” 

      “Ah, there’s that excitement of your’s I would have loved to have over an hour ago.” You state as you start walking in the direction of your dressing room. You can feel his eye’s roll from behind you, but you continue on with a firm click of your heels. 

      When you reach the room, Heather happens to already be there, looking up from her phone as you approach. “Good morning, everyone.” She walks straight toward Harry and Abby. “Nice to see you again, Harry. Abby, would you like to join me up in my office? I think we should go over some of the future meetings and shoots we have so there are no confusions.” Abby nods and you have to try hard to hold back a laugh. You would say poor Abby, but sympathy left you a long time ago. 

      After their departure, you turn to Harry, who is on his phone yet again, “Harry.” You call his name, but this time you don’t worry about layering on any nice tones. If you aren’t stern with Harry, your words fly right over him. He looks up and raises his brows. “Okay so listen. This project that we're working on is moving fast and on schedule. Which means I need you here when you’re supposed to be and doing what you’re supposed to be. An album with no release date can wait, a line with a hard launch date cannot.”

      You raise your brows, looking for a reply. Harry huffs out a laugh and, “Yes, ma’am.” At least he’s paying attention. 

      “Great.” You turn and grab some of the pieces you created, specifically with him in mind. 

      While he never seems too interested in his part of Aurelia, Harry is known in the media for his style. He’s been seen on the cover of multiple fashion magazines, which is where you first caught sight of him. So while his interests in Aurelia were low, he didn’t mind fashion. 

      “While I get these ready for you, remind me of the name of this collection, the one that you are the “partner” for.” Yeah, you just air quoted him.

      He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the dressing room. “HA HA HA.” 

      “Exactly, which is a very you name, and not a very Aurelia name. But if you really sell it, everyone will love it.” You pull a ringer tee off of the rack that displays a moody teddy bear, quite similar to Harry right now, with a line of his lyrics. You look over to Harry who’s still fully clothed, raising your brows. When he raises his back, you groan, “Strip.”

      He smirks and pulls his shirt over his head, “Geez, take me to dinner first.” When his abdomen flashes in front of your eyes, you scold yourself mentally for spending a little extra time perusing the creases of his body with your eyeballs. You quickly shake the thoughts from your head and hand him the shirt, not missing the sly grin on his face, signaling that he most definitely caught you gawking. 

      Harry slips on the shirt and walks over to stand in front of the full body mirror, brushing his hands down the shirt. You walk over behind him, just barely being able to look over his shoulder in your heels to see his reflection in the mirror. You pull at one of the sleeves to even out the shirt on his shoulders, your stomach twisting slightly, making you pull away rather quickly. When you look back into the mirror, Harry’s no longer looking at himself, but he’s looking you in the eyes. 

      “Look good?” He asks, the tone of his voice being deep, adding a rasp to it that gives you goosebumps. Judging by the way he asks, he knows it looks good, he just wants to hear you say it. You nod, but he pushes further with a, “Hmm?” 

      You bristle and straighten your shoulders, pulling yourself from the daze you fell into. “Yes, it looks exactly as I imagined.” Strutting over to the rack, you pluck out a pale yellow pair of slacks to pair with the shirt. When you look back over to Harry, he’s just staring back at you, so you raise a brow.

      “Strip?” He asks, and you nod, rolling your eyes.

      “You act like you’re new here, Styles.” He reaches for the button of his jeans, shrugging,

     “Just in a daze today.” That makes two of us, you thought. As he discarded his jeans you couldn’t help but be drawn to watch below his torso. This man annoyed you on the regular, but something about him today spiked your blood. You had to be ovulating, it was the only explanation. Something about the way that those ferns pointed right to a place you’d never thought about before today, had your lady bits in a frenzy. But that was quickly shut down as he tugged on the pair of pants you had given him, covering the tattoos you were fantasizing about following like they were a huge neon sign that read ‘suck my cock!’ What the hell was wrong with you? 

      You cleared your throat and began helping him tuck the shirt into the trousers. You can feel as he sucks in a breath and his abdomen caves in, making your stomach turn. When you’re finished, you lean back and take him in, tilting your head to the side.

      “Something’s missing.” Don’t get it twisted, he still looked near delectable, which was infuriating, but it needed something more. You watch as he looks past you to the rack. 

      “That.” You follow his eyes to the plaid green overcoat that hangs at the end of the clothing rack. As soon as you saw it, you gasped. 

      “Exactly,” You rush toward the piece, pulling it off of the hanger and walking it over to him. He pulled it over his arms and joy burst throughout your chest. You clapped a little to yourself out of pure satisfaction.

      Harry smirks at your excitement, stating, “I know what I’m doing, sometimes.”

      Blinded by happiness, you rush forward and run your hands down his coat covered arms smiling. “This is sooo good.” Key moments like this were the reason that you loved this job. When an outfit just made sense, it meant everything to you. But then you realize that you’re feeling up your brand partner, and pull away immediately. Harry huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. Cocky bastard.

      Turning a shade of pink, you pull out your phone from the inside of your blazer, pulling up your camera to capture the outfit. Harry sticks his hands in the pockets of the slacks and stares at you with this sexy straight face smolder. God damn ovulation. You snap the photo and quickly put your phone away. 

      “Okay, on to the next.”

—

      You needed to get him out of your office as soon as possible. Something in the air had turned you into a cat in heat, feeling like you were going to hump his leg any second now. It was such a strange sensation. One minute you wanted to punch his face, the next you wanted to sit on it. What a predicament.

      Harry snapped in front of your face. “Hello?” 

      Your shoulders tightened up and you blinked a few times. “Huh?” Sorry, I was too busy focusing on the fact you were standing in front of me in just a pair of briefs that hug your package quite nicely. 

      “Is that all for today?” He smirked as he looked you in the eye, his gaze then traveling up and down your body. You planted your hands on your hips and tried to give him an unimpressed look, though you were definitely impressed by the size of that- Oh my god, what is happening?

      You nodded and gestured your hands to his original outfit. “Yeah, put some clothes on please.” 

      “I don’t know,” He said slyly, stalking closer to you, like a predator to its prey, “I’m starting to think you like them better off me.” I definitely am- No! You gave him a stern look and squinted your eyes. 

        “Styles, that is highly inappropriate. Please put your clothes on.” Crossing your arms, you made your way to the door of the room. “Get here on time next time.” You reach for the door handle to exit the room but as you do, his fingers grasp your wrist tightly and spin you around, pulling you close to him.

      He shakes his head, with a panty dropping expression. “I don’t think I will.” He whispers. You grit your teeth and huff through your nose. This brings another one of those god damned smirks to his face. “Not if you're gonna continue to be a brat like this.” His hand reaches up to thread through your hair before pulling it tight to cock your head up to look at him. “You gonna keep being a brat?” 

      Your nostril flared and your panties became drenched. It has to be ovulation time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      He chuckled degradingly, “Oh, please. Like you aren’t crossing your fucking legs right now.” Harry leans in beside your ear. “Need some relief, don’t you?” His teeth nipped and your ear and you felt a shiver run down your spine. But then a knock came to the door and you ripped away from him, also probably ripping out a few strands of hair at the same time. A moment later, Abby burst through the door. 

      She smiled, “Oh good, you’re done. You have a studio session in an hour, so we better get going.” Oh, so she could keep track of the studio sessions, but not this? Makes you feel wonderful. 

      You straightened your posture and nodded to Harry. “See you in a few days.” 

      A fucking smirk and you squeezed your thighs together. “Can’t wait.”

***

For more of my writing, check out my masterlist!

[389]

Josh O'Connor for Arena HOMME+ Photographed by Esther Theaker Styled by Harry Lambert