#halloween harry styles
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moonchildstyles · 2 years ago
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the witching hour
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despite harry being the witch in this situation, maybe his crush on gemma's new friend was going to be the most bewitching thing he ever encountered
wordcount: 10k+
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"Are you just going to watch me set up or actually help?" 
Harry couldn't help the bark of laughter that left his lips at his sister's jab. He stayed just where he was even when he felt the glare of her eyes on him as he continued the game of changing the contents of her flower vases every time Gemma flicked it back to water before the blooms died. He currently wanted to see how long it would take her to noticed he'd snapped spiked seltzer into the water's place. 
"I don't know why you're worrying so hard, Gem," Harry sighed, sinking into the back of his stool where he sat at the breakfast nook, "Just cast a spell and make everything set itself up. It would take 3 minutes compared to the three hours you've been stressing over this." 
He didn't have to see his sister's face to know she was rolling her eyes hard enough their mother would have chided her, saying they were going to get stuck that way if she kept it up. "Sorry, I try not to rely on my magic, like you. Is it so bad I want everything to be perfect? This is the first time we're not living with the coven—or even near them. I want these people to like us, Harry." 
"And they're going to," Harry cemented, just as he had been since his sister started worrying over the opinions of the mortals that were now their neighbors, "We're giving them free drinks and food, there's no way they aren't going to like us—like you." 
"That's not a guarantee, Harry," Gemma argued, twisting in her spot so he could see just how exasperated he was making her. Her expression fell flat when she noticed the bubbling soda water soaking her roses. She shot him a glare that was only deflected by Harry's grin. "Could you at least try to be on your best behavior tonight? It's going to be hard to stay in the HOA if they realize you're a dick and a witch." 
"I always am," he said with a cocky grin stretching his lips. Not a complete lie, but definitely not the truth.
Gemma shook her head before she brushed past him, a large crystal bowl full of ice in her hands. "You don't have to come tonight, you know. You could go do something with Mitch or whoever; leave the house to me and I'll just tell everyone how nice my brother is without you contradicting everything I tell them." 
"I invited Mitch to come tonight, so I think he'd be a bit busy." Harry's voice was breezy as he kept an eye on his sister. He needed to find the right moment to fill the vases with almond milk when she wasn't looking. "If I didn't know any better, I would feel like you don't want me there, Gems." 
"You're not even dressed up, Harry! Do you even want to be at the party?" 
"Yes, I am dressed up," Harry argued, a pinch knitting his brows together as he sat up straight in his seat. 
"No, you're not," Gemma countered as she climbed on top of a chair with a strip of led lights in her hand she was planning on tacking along the line of the ceiling, "You look like normal." 
With an exaggerated wave of his fingers, deep purple nail polish glittering in the light, he gave her another self-satisfied grin. "Exactly," he said, "'M dressed like a witch." 
That seemed to finally get his sister to crack a smile, a matching dimple in her cheek making an appearance. As much as he loved to tease his sister, especially now that they were living together for the first time away from their family, he didn't want her to feel like he wasn't supportive of her or messing with her just for the sake of pushing her buttons, and not because he was trying to ease her nerves. Sure, the former was a part of it, but he was here to support her and make her days easier, especially knowing how much she was missing their coven. 
"You're annoying," his sister laughed, using a flick of her fingers to keep the strip light held up to the wall while she fixed them to the crease between the ceiling and the walls, "Are you going to change before the party, or is that really your costume?" 
"You'll jus' have to wait and see." And, so would Harry. He had no idea if Mitch was actually going to follow through on the corn costume they had been joking around about a few weeks prior, because if he was, then Harry had agreed to dress like a pad of butter. "Who's all coming tonight?" 
"Well, I sent out that mass invitation on the HOA's Facebook page, so hopefully a lot of neighbors we haven't met yet. But, I also invited a couple of the girls from work and people from that record store you like. One of the girls from my yoga class said she'd try to ma—" 
"Was it (Y/N)? The one from your yoga class." Harry didn't even pretend to care about how eager he sounded cutting her off. He needed to know if (Y/N) was going to be there. 
On more than one occasion in the last couple of months since moving to the neighborhood, Harry had picked up Gemma from her yoga classes after he finished with his spinning sessions, and without fail there was always this girl that walked out with his sister. After that first time he saw her, Harry couldn't help but begin to look forward to picking up Gemma if only for a moment's glance at her friend. 
Maybe it was the sweat that clung to her skin after the workout, but Harry swore she was covered in stars, glimmering in the light, even when it was after one of the late classes with only the moon above. Without fail, there was always a sweet smile on her face when he spied her, quiet while she listened to his sister talk about whatever, or growing brighter when she told her own stories. One time, he was able to hear her laugh after he had cracked the windows, and maybe his breath had been stolen at the sound, but he would never tell Gemma that. He wanted to get to know her as more than the pretty face that always escorted Gemma to his car after classes and gave him a polite wave before heading towards her own way home. 
"Harry," Gemma sighed, settling her hands on her hips as she gave him a pointed glare. 
"What? 'M jus' asking!"
His sister rolled her eyes, the fake lashes she'd glued to her eyes fluttering at the familiar movement. "She's my friend, Harry, you're not allowed to date her! We already share a house, I'm not letting you have my friends, too." 
"Would it really be that bad, Gems? I'm a gentleman, wh—" 
"If you fuck her and she stops talking to me like what happened with Meredith, I'm seriously going to be so pissed at you. She's much more fun than Mere, so she's completely off limits if you don't want me to tell mum." 
Harry groaned at the mentioning of his sister tattling on him to their mom. "How was I supposed to know she was a virgin beforehand? If she had told me, I wouldn't have put my—" 
"I don't need to hear that story again!" Gemma shouted over him, cutting him off. Stepping off the chair she'd used as her ladder, she gave him one more look as the room filled with a cool purple glow from the lights she'd just pinned up. "Just be nice to her, Harry. At least let me see if she wants something serious or whatever, so if she does, you can leave her alone and not hurt anyone's feelings." 
"Deal," Harry rushed out. He could work with that. "So I can talk to her tonight?" 
A sigh puffed her lungs, though she didn't offer any answer. 
"Jus' one dance, at least, Gems. I won't bother her after that, unless she wants to talk to me. I promise." 
That look only his protective older sister could give him crossed her features. He knew even through all her protests and claims to be protecting her friendships, that this was also in part of caring for her baby brother that sometimes felt too deeply, too quickly, for people who weren't in the same boat as him. 
"Just one dance, then. If she even comes tonight."
Sinking back into his chair as Gemma continued to flutter around the house, cheesy decorations in hand, a satisfied grin slipped into place on Harry's face. Knowing that (Y/N) was coming now, he really hoped Mitch didn't pull through with the corn costume.
—————
The purple glow Gemma had set up to emanate through the house was the perfect touch, Harry realized as he lent back against the breakfast nook, the view of the main space of the house perfect for him as he people-watched. Her invitation had apparently garnered interest in the entire neighborhood as Harry was able to pick out the faces of most of their neighbors and those who lived in the apartments bordering their subdivision. It felt like a teen movie, the comparison making Harry laugh, with the way alcohol was distributed out in novelty plastic cups with ghouls and ghosts printed on the sides, the contents of the glasses sloshing with the way people were dancing to the music that'd progressively become louder the more crowded the space got. 
Costumes of every type littered the room. A group of zombies were huddled by the backdoor, a pair of angels throwing shapes on the makeshift dance floor in the living room, and the Powerpuff girls along with a few of their most iconic villains had made an appearance as well. Amongst the groups and couples, single costumes of television characters, celebrities, and era specific getups were dotted throughout, coming together to make the perfect picture of Halloween. Parties like these were only fun when people weren't too full of themselves to dress up. As much as he played around with Gemma earlier, even Harry made a point to conjure up a costume (after he got the confirmation that Mitch had completely blown off the deal with the corn costume, of course). 
While it wasn't that creative given his identity, he couldn't help himself as he cast his spells and made a black pointed hat to sit on his head, his getup all black with fringed veils and bats stitched into the lace overlay on his flared pants. A well dressed witch, he had told Gemma when she rolled her eyes as he descended the stairs with a flourish just before guests started to arrive. As much as his sister wanted to disagree, call him out for not actually dressing up for the party, he knew she was going to see if she could make an outfit just like that soon enough. 
Speaking of his sister, he found her in the sea of guests, picking her out from the cat ears she had perched on the top of her head. She had been dragged into the fray of the dancefloor by her friends, leaving Harry to play the host with the most while she finally let loose. He didn't mind going around, greeting their neighbors and introducing himself while he nursed his own drink, knowing Gemma needed a break from all her worrying about making a good impression on these people. (Plus, he was given a slew of compliments on his outfit everywhere he went, so he was getting something out of this as well). By the time the party was in full swing, the constant in-pouring of guests slowing to a near halt, he was glassy eyed with his third drink in hand (he hadn't realized how much tequila he was pouring in until he realized he was just doing magic out in the open as he flicked his fingers to clean up the spills that littered the counter) while he watched his new home being filled with the laughter and mischief that he had been missing since moving away from the coven. 
But, there was one thing missing. 
"Are you waiting for someone?" Mitch mumbled behind the rim of his cup, lent up against the counter with Harry. 
"Hm?" Harry hummed, his reaction delayed as he looked to his friend.
"You've been watching the door for the last, like, five minutes. Are you waiting for someone?" he asked again, substantially less drunk than his counterpart. 
Harry didn't even realize he had his gaze trained on the front door until it was pointed out, making a point to whip his head back to face his friend, witch hat askew on the top of his head. "Oh, sorry," he murmured, not at all sorry, "Gem's friend was supposed to come, but she's not here yet." 
"The yoga one?" Mitch's dark brows were raised over his eyes. Harry didn't have even an ounce of embarrassment in him over the fact he'd told Mitch so much about her, that he knew immediately which of Gemma's friends he was looking forward to seeing.
Nodding into his cup as he sipped down another mouthful, Harry hummed. "Yeah, that one. I finally got Gemma to lay off some and let me talk to her if she came tonight." 
"Even after what happened with Meredith?" Harry could have rolled his eyes at the mention of the name. As far as he could remember, everything with Mere wasn't even that bad. 
"Yes," Harry sighed, taking another gulp of his drink when the doorknob on the front door didn't even twitch, "But, 's not like anything will happen if she doesn't show up." 
"I'm sure she will," Mitch reasoned, "It's still early in the night anyway, and she could have been stopping off at other part—" 
Harry didn't mean to cut Mitch off, but he couldn't help the way he choked on his drink the second the unlocked front door opened to reveal (Y/N) tentatively peeking into the party. He sputtered on the alcohol that burned in the back of his throat, aware of Mitch's hand slapping between his shoulder blades as he tried to suck in a breath though he couldn't find it in himself to tear his watery eyes from where she stood. 
"Is that her?" Mitch mumbled once Harry caught his breath, following his line of sight to the girl quietly shutting the door behind her as if the noise would disturb the loud music and rowdy set on people on the stairs. 
The breathy yeah he gets out is complimented by the soft smile stretching his lips. She was even dressed as a witch, he realized—a Stevie Nicks-era witch with gauzy fabrics and twinkling beads, but a witch nonetheless. He even spotted the purse hanging over her shoulder, stylized to be a witch's spell book with the name and the silhouette of a crescent moon stitched in gold over the black leather. Nice to know she, at the very least, would be fascinated by his culture.
"That's kind of funny," Mitch pointed out, nodding his chin in her direction as if Harry could have forgotten where she was, "She's dressed like you—a witch." 
Mitch was privy to the secret he and Gemma harbored, having met Harry in college. Being Mitch's roommate made it hard for Harry to keep himself in check, so after Mitch walked in on him concocting potions for the third time, he had to come clean. 
"'S cute," he mumbled out, dropping his drink off on the counter behind him when he determined he was going to talk her. "I'll be ri—" 
Just as he took a single step in her direction, he heard the sound of his sister's voice bubbling over the loud music filling the house. "(Y/N)! You made it!" 
He could tell she was plastered by the way she didn't even look a little embarrassed at the way she stumbled over her feet and a splash from her cup spilled her suede boots as she toddled to her friend. (Y/N) was much more reserved in her answer, nodding her head and speaking quietly while giving Gemma a hug. Harry watched as his sister tugged her to the kitchen, surely getting her a drink while he stood back, reaching behind him to take another swig of his drink. 
"What were you saying?" Mitch prodded, entirely too proud at seeing Harry's advances squandered for the time being. 
"Shut the fuck up." 
—————
Maybe Harry needed to be a little bit more careful, knowing he was leaning a little bit closer into tipsy territory than the comfortable buzz he'd been at earlier, but he couldn't help himself. 
(Y/N) was practically the center of the dancefloor as far as he was concerned. Her smiling face with her styled hair being tossed around to frame her features was the beacon in the middle of the muddled purple and orange hued living room, the music being an afterthought when her laughter was the main song that had Harry's heart thumping. He couldn't help himself as he traced his finger in the air, manipulating the beams of warm orange light to sit right on her as if it were a spotlight for the headlining performer. He just wanted a better view of her. 
Though he hadn't had a single chance to talk to her all night, that didn't mean he didn't keep an eye on her during that time. Not once, even with all the dancing and pushing happening on the packed danced floor, had her drink spilled, not with the way Harry ensured that every unbalanced raise of her cup was corrected with a trace of his finger in the air. She didn't go thirsty either, an enchantment keeping her cup full so she wouldn't have to stop having fun. He kept her spirits high even when Mitch teased Harry for being so invested in her time away from him; he didn't mind, not when each one of his tricks paid off, her smile glowing bright like the full moon outside. 
As the time ticked passed midnight, Halloween night technically over as the first of November had started twenty-three minutes prior, Harry didn't see their party ending any time soon. The main room was still packed, drinks still flowed in the kitchen, and every time he went around with a tray of shots for the guests to enjoy there wasn't a single glass left over. Though no new attendees had arrived after (Y/N), he hadn't seen many leave either. The energy filling the house had his aura turned up high, feeding off of the high enthusiasm exuding from each of his new friends. He didn't want it to end. 
While he was soaking in the fun of the space, a playlist going on in his head that had him touching his finger to the air as he added track after track to the running queue that played from the bass-heavy speakers, Harry hadn't realized he'd lost track of (Y/N) until he couldn't see her in the crowd. Gemma and her friends—including a pretty brown haired girl dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz that had Mitch currently wrapped round her with softened eyes—were still out on the floor, bubbly, bright, and loud as ever even with their missing piece. But, Harry had trained the orange spotlight to follow whatever which way she swayed. He just had to find the pumpkin glow and the witch standing underneath it. 
"I like your pants!" 
Harry jumped in his spot at the sound of the chirped voice bubbling off behind him. His vodka-dredged reflexes had him turning on his heel, the movement a lot slower than he intended. The orange light hit his hooded gaze first, a squint of his eyelids making him focus on the figure before him until details surfaced. 
With her hair a pile on the top of her head, stray strands plastered to her temples and neck with the sheen of sweat that covered her skin, stood his wannabe witch. (Y/N)'s gaze was cloudy as she took him in, though she seemed to be much more attentive than him. The gauzy sleeves of her costume were drooping down her shoulders, giving him more glimmering skin to drag his lazy eyes across if he hadn't been so wide-eyed surprised that she'd found him before he even had a chance to properly look for her. 
"Thank you," he choked out, remembering her chirped compliment in greeting. 
"Yeah, of course!" she beamed back, all but bouncing in her spot though he was sure she wasn't even aware she was doing so, "You're Gemma's friend, right? I've seen you pick her up from yoga before." 
So he hadn't been imagining the way her eyes would linger, even after giving a polite wave goodbye. "'M her brother, yeah," he clarified, leaning forward so he wouldn't have to shout to get his words across. 
"You're Harry!" (Y/N) bubbled, features lighting up with recognition, "She's talked about you before!" 
"And I'm sure it was all terrible," Harry joked, though knowing Gemma it wouldn't be that far off if she spilled all of his bad habits with her pretty friend, "You're (Y/N), right?" 
"No, no, no," (Y/N) shook her head, hands out as if to ward him off, "She always talks about how funny you are, never anything bad! I didn't realize that was you picking her up those nights, I would have said hi earlier." 
"'S alright," he waved off, thinking it was cute how excited she got when she drank. He was much closer to the mellow end of the spectrum when it came to alcohol. A perfect balance between the two of them, he thought. 
"And, yes, I am (Y/N), by the way," she laughed at herself as she caught up to his earlier question, leaning into the counter beside him. He hoped Gemma wasn't paying attention enough to catch the way he turned to face her, giving her the full of his attention with his cup being pushed to the wayside. 
"Gems talks about you all the time," Harry mused, talking quietly enough she had to crane her neck and shuffle closer to hear. 
"She does?!" was (Y/N)'s awed response, her eyes sweetly rounding out as she gazed up at him. "She's, like, my best friend. That yoga class always sucked before she started coming—it's all so cliquey, and I never got invited to the after class drinks the instructor would put on." 
A pout puffed out Harry's lips as he reached across, settling his hand carefully on her plush hip. "That's not nice. But, Gems talks about you like you're her best friend, too. 'M happy she has you; I was worried when we moved out here. She can be a little nervous trying to make friends, but she says y'were the first one to put your mat down by her and not make her feel bad when she couldn't hold some of those bendy poses." 
"Some of them are really hard," (Y/N) nodded, sipping from her cup though there was little left behind the guise of ghosts and goblins printed on the plastic as his enchantment on her drink wore off. "But, what about you?" she chirped, wobbling some as she bounced in his hold, "Do you have any best friends here yet?" 
Dimples deep in his cheeks, Harry could feel the muscles beginning to grow sore the longer he talked to her. "M'old university roommate lives out here, so I've been getting to hang out with him a lot more now that he's close. Actually," Harry paused, peering out at the sea of dancers taking over his living room, "he's over there"—pointing to where Dorothy and a costume-less Mitch were dancing—"with your friend." 
"With Sarah?!" (Y/N) blurted, eyes growing wide, "Your friend is the one that's too cool to dress up?" 
Harry laughed at her chiding. "Well, it was either that or a corn outfit—I personally think he picked wisely. If he'd picked otherwise, I promised I'd match him as some butter, so I think it worked out better for everyone this way." 
He only caught a glimpse of her features lighting up, mouth dropping into a smiling gape before their attention was stolen away. Somehow, over the volume of the music, his sister managed to yell (Y/N)'s name loud enough to be heard. With a gasp and her hair fluttering behind her as she whipped her head in the direction of Gemma's voice. 
Following (Y/N)'s line of sight, Harry caught his sister's eye as she beckoned (Y/N) with a flick of her hand to come back. The gloss of her eyes made it clear she was leaning on the side of drunk though the second she made eye contact with Harry, that pout turned hard. The glare of her gaze was quick, the same kind of look the would have fire sprouting from her fingertips if they hadn't been in the middle of a party. She was mad, mad that he was taking advantage of the permission he had been given earlier to speak to her pretty friend. With (Y/N)'s attention placed elsewhere, Harry only shrugged with a lopsided smile on his lips. 
Giving a small nod to Gemma, having disregarded the squinted look she gave to her brother, (Y/N) started curling out of Harry's hold. Just as he dropped his hand from her hip, the warmth of her skin lingering on his palm, she grabbed for his hand. Lacing her fingers between his, she gave a gentle tug as she edged towards the dancefloor. 
"Come dance with me," she requested in a smiley voice. 
"Don't know if m'sister would like that much, but I don't think I really care," he told her, his dimple sinking deeper into his cheek as he solidified his hold on her hand. 
"What do you mean?" she asked as he came up beside her, a pinch knotting her brows together.
He traced his gaze over her features before tugging her along through the mass of their neighbors dancing in his living room, eyes lingering over the height of her dewy cheekbones. "She's worried 'm gonna like you a little too much, love, that's all." 
Once close enough, Harry used his grip on her hand to tug her in front of him, chest to chest with Gemma standing behind (Y/N). It didn't take his sister long to reach for (Y/N)'s shoulder, black painted nails wrapping around the slope as she tugged on her dress. 
"Is my brother bothering you?" Gemma shouted over the music, absently taking a sip of her drink. 
"Harry?" (Y/N) bubbled, her hand in his squeezing as she tossed a glance at him, "No, no! I asked him to come dance with us. Is that okay?" 
At the mention of his tagalong being (Y/N)'s idea, he could see the way Gemma begrudgingly reined herself in. "Okay," she relented, "Let me know if he starts being annoying, though. He does that sometimes." 
(Y/N) laughed off her offer, muttering something to Gemma that Harry couldn't hear before she was placing her attention on him once more. On instinct, she moved along with the song, trailing her grip on his hand to land further up his arm while the other still had her drink. 
Feeling her warmth pressed against him, her smiling lips and bright, glossy gaze directed up at him, Harry felt his heartstrings tug. She really was so pretty, and here he had her tucked against his chest with his touch warming her. There was something to be said about the sparks flittering through his system, the ripples reminiscent of the magic that was a part of his being. It was easy to give in to the moonbeam that had accidentally just stepped on his toes. 
"What?!" she bubbled off, standing on her tiptoes when she noticed he was too distracted to dance with her. 
Shaking his head, he brought his hand up and brushed a stray piece of hair that brushed the top of her cheekbone. "Nothing, darling." 
He swore he saw her eyes sparkle. 
—————
Harry didn't mind using magic to make his life easier in mundane ways, but this wasn't something he could use a flick of his wrist to fix. At least not without exposing both him and his sister to their entire neighborhood. 
"Come with me, darling. Let's go to the bathroom and see what we can do, yeah?" His grip on (Y/N)'s hand tightened as she wobbled on her feet trying to follow behind him. 
He could hear the murmured okay coming from behind him, her mournful voice indicative of the pout he was sure was on her lips. Even without looking behind him, he was sure her gaze was still stuck on the spill dripping down the front of her dress, brightly colored liquor and juice staining the creamy white of her costume. Someone had bumped her just right when she had her drink huddled between their chests, knocking her cup askew and sending the contents down her chest.
While Harry could simply snap his fingers and lift the stain from the fabric without even a single dot of the shockingly blue juice remaining, he knew that wasn't a wise choice, even in his tequila touched brain. Instead, he was forced to clench his fist to keep from instinctively raising his fingers with a spark of magic on the tips, and escort (Y/N) to the bathroom. While it seemed the patrons of the party had began to spread out, some finding refuge in the backyard as well as waves realizing there were snacks set out in the kitchen for them to munch on, the space was still packed beyond comfort. Harry knocked people out of the way as gently as he could, mumbling sorry's and excuse me's with a soft smile on his face. 
Making it to the restroom, he knocked with his ear pressed to the wood. When no response came with (Y/N) shuffling uncomfortably behind him, he forged forward, jumping back as soon as he saw a blonde on their knees with their companion's thighs spread and head thrown back. Gemma definitely did not need to know that happened in their bathroom. 
"Shit, sorry!" he blabbered out before swinging the door shut as quickly as he could, his grip on (Y/N)'s hand still tight. 
Turning around, he saw his wannabe witch looking with wide eyes and her mouth dropped in a small gap. Their eyes met for a moment, flicking back to the unassuming door that was the only shield between them and someone else's intimate moment before matching once more. 
It was (Y/N) that cracked first, a choked laugh snapping from her lungs before she was melting into her giggles with her eyes fluttering closed. Harry couldn't help but to follow suit, the embarrassing moment combining with the amount of alcohol in his system to draw out a matching set of laughter.
"Did they even see you?" (Y/N) got out, doubling over with her forehead pressing into Harry's chest. He could feel her warmth through the sheer fabric covering his torso, only the piping of the spiderweb motif stitched through the mesh separating them. 
"I don't think so," Harry breathed out, his nose brushing the strands of her hair as he curled into her, "And I think the one on the floor was dressed like a Minion. I feel like that should be illegal."
His extra details only served to steal (Y/N)'s breath further as she succumbed to her laughter and all but fell into Harry's arms. It was ridiculous, the whole situation, but Harry only laughed as much as he did because he couldn't help but feel infected by her energy. Her reaction was his favorite part. 
As she slowly caught her breath, Harry ducked down with his lips hovering by her ear. "We still need to get y'cleaned up, love," he reminded his moonbeam, "The only other bathroom is upstairs. Can I take y'up there with me?" 
She didn't hesitate before she was nodding her head, unfurling herself from around him though neither of their goofy smiles dissipated. Along with her grip on his hand, (Y/N) reached to grab for the hem of his top in her fist, keeping close as he escorted her to the stairs leading up. 
Despite being only a floor above and hallway away from the noise, the second floor felt significantly more peaceful that the party raging on below. Luckily, no one seemed to have dared to go above and peek around the bedrooms for anywhere to conduct their own private times, leaving his bedroom free and clear for him to take (Y/N) to the adjoining bathroom. 
It wasn't until he was pushing open the unassuming white door that he remembered how not normal he had the space. While he and Gemma were considered to be apart of a very modern generation of those who were gifted with the Craft, that didn't mean he didn't appreciate the aesthetic and traditions of the past. That was why his room could be considered something of a lair if Gemma got to teasing him. 
Heavy drapes covered his available walls, blocking out the asylum white painting the plaster with ornate weavings of star maps and whirling designs baring crests and traditional scenes unique to his home coven. Shelves were nailed to the walls with bookcases propped up on either side of his potion table, the planks of purple painted wood holding volumes and tomes of spell books, diaries of witches before him, and his own detailings of magical happenings he planned on passing to his own coven when he formed one. In between the clusters of books were vials and flasks, tubes and containers all holding various ingredients to his most used potions. While they weren't readily available at a Whole Foods or farmer's markets, his shelves were still stocked to the brim of newt's tongue, friar's goo, and pixie clippings. Some bottles were glowing in the low light, others boiling without any heat beneath, and the rest standing atop the wood with clear views as to what was held inside. His bed had been an afterthought in the design process, leaving the mattress to float from the floor with the help of an incantation after Harry didn't feel like picking out a proper frame and boxspring to go along with the bedding. He hadn't planned on inviting anyone to his bedroom, so he didn't bother to will away any of the less than mortal items dotted throughout. 
Making a point to slow himself down with a calculated trip over his own feet, Harry flicked his fingers with a mumbled incantation under his breath. The vials were now replaced with the illusion of wildflowers and different decorations filling the glasses, his spellbooks guised as classics, and bed now held up with he help of a cherry-wood frame. The glamour rippled into place just in time as (Y/N) stumbled in beside him.
"Are you okay?" she giggled out, her attention solely on him after his fake stumble. 
"'M alright, yeah," he agreed with a breathy laugh, "Jus' drank a little more than I thought, I guess." 
(Y/N) accepted his explanation readily with a giggling nod of her head. Pulling her along with him, Harry showed her to the bathroom, opening the door with a flourish. Working together, they came up with a drunken plan to try to wipe the stain out using some soap and washcloths he had stored under his sink. All it took was a few swipes over the soaked stains to realize they weren't going to get too far with this method. 
"Do you have bleach or something we could put on it?" (Y/N) murmured with a furrowed brow, her hands holding the top of her costume taut as she worked on the bust, and Harry the skirt. 
"Not while it's on you," he told her absently, making a conscious effort to keep from using his magic to buff away the electric blue on her dress. Harry didn't realize she'd stopped her efforts until he looked up from where he was wiping away with a still pristine—though soapy—flannel, (Y/N) no longer matching his buffing. "What?" he asked when he matched her gaze. 
"Do you have anything I can wear while we bleach it?" 
Harry blinked as he processed her question. She wanted to wear his clothes?
"Are y'sure, love? 'S gonna take a while to get the stain out even with bleach, and we'd still have to rinse and dry it. 'S already really late." 
Her answer came with the help of a shrug. "It's already, like, one a.m. anyway. What's a few more hours?" 
A smile grew on his features at her nonchalance. She was cute.
"Alright," he said, standing to the full of his height, "I'll grab y'something and y'can get changed while I take your stuff to the laundry. That alright?" 
The perky nod she gave him was enough to have him backing out of the bathroom with his dimples poking into the apples of his cheeks. Harry gazed through rose-tinted glasses as he rifled through his dresser, looking for his softest sweats and most comfortable top to let her wear while he feigned the act of running her costume through the wash (now that he suggested the timeframe, he kind of had to stick to it despite the fact he was going to have the stain out in two seconds flat with a quick spell). Landing on a pair of emerald green sweatpants and a slouchy black top, he returned to the bathroom to find (Y/N) untwisting her hair from the ornate clip she had stashed in the strands. 
"Thank you!" Her voice was a chirp as she smiled up at him, the clothes being bundled to her chest after taking them from his offered hand. "I'll be out in a second, H." 
The dazed nod of his head came just before she shut the door to give herself some privacy in his bathroom. Harry didn't even think before he was sinking into the edge of his bed, gaze stitched to the jamb of the door to watch for any changes in the sliver of light peeking through, any sign of her coming back to him. 
Before tonight, Harry had thought she was pretty, sure. He wanted to get to know her, of course, but he couldn't say his attraction went further than the pretty face that was presented to him every time he picked up his sister, especially with only a few stories here and there shared by Gemma that explained some of the sweet character that made up (Y/N). But after this, getting to know her while she danced with him, flirting and playing while giving up tidbits of herself and the life she had outside of that yoga class, Harry could feel the cocoon of butterflies infiltrating his stomach. 
This was one of Gemma's friends Harry could understand where she was coming from with her attempts to fend him off and away from her. She was entirely too good for him, he was realizing. Even with her drunken mouth, not once had a soured word left her lips. Her unfiltered thoughts were just as kind and bubbly and Gems had talked her up to be. 
But, while he could understand he may not be the kind of perfection that should be gifted to a woman like (Y/N), that didn't mean he wasn't going to try anyway. Part of lacking perfection meant he made up for it with a smidge of selfishness. 
The second (Y/N) was twisting the knob and pushing the door open, Harry rose to his feet, ready to dote on her and fix every problem she might present to him. Dressed in his dark clothing, seeing the fabric adorning her body was a stark contrast to the creams and pastels he'd grown accustomed to seeing her in, especially compared to the ethereal white dress she'd had draped over her the whole night. 
Emerald green sweats dragged over the stained hardwood under her feet as she stepped out of the bathroom, the wad of white and blue fabric balled up against her chest while her hair had been clipped back, the twist refined and cleaner than how she'd had it tied back before. Her makeup wasn't quite as perfect as he was sure it had been at the start of the night, the shine of her skin peeking through the layer of powders and pigments she had distributed with her lashes losing the high curl he'd met her with. But, Harry liked those peeks at the less-than-perfect (Y/N) beneath; he liked every version of her. 
"Thank you, again, Harry," (Y/N) sighed, the glassy lacquer over her eyes shining in the low light of his bedroom, "You're sure it's alright if I stick around until my clothes are clean?" 
"Of course," he answered on instinct, canting his head to the side, "We'll jus' have to stay up here and hide, I think. I hear some people around here are real sticklers about having a costume." 
Catching the joke at her expense with the way she had reacted at Mitch not having dressed up, (Y/N) let out a peal of laugher, boosting his ego at the high reaction to his mid-level joke. When she leveled out, though her eyes were still creased and squinted at the width of her smile, she placed a gentle hand on his arm that effected his balance more than he would have liked to admit. "It's alright if I crash in your room then? I promise as soon as my stuff is done, I'll be right out, though!"
"More than alright with that, darling. Y'don't need to worry about rushing out, either," he cemented, the words sounding a lot dreamier than he meant, "I was getting tired down there, anyway. And we can actually talk up here; 's quiet." 
(Y/N)'s features softened at the mention of her taking her time with him, getting a moment to stay and speak with him without a time limit. 
With her looking up at him like that, it took effort for him to excuse himself with her stained costume in hand, keeping up the facade of depositing it in the laundry room and working to get the stain out with all the bleach and detergent he had. He left his room with slow steps, more than one glance tossed over his shoulder as he saw her venture towards his glamoured bookshelf. A look of wonder crossed her face when he was sure she wasn't aware he was watching. 
It was that vision that tided him over as he trekked to the laundry room, following the motions until he reached the space. Forgoing the bleach and whatever else she figured he would use to help resurrect the fabric, Harry only brushed the pads of his fingers over the electric blue stain, a warmth following after as the incantation muttered under his breath took effect. Before his eyes, the blue sucked itself in, reducing the long draw that started on the bodice of her dress and down to the mid of her skirt until it was nothing more than a tiny dot on the waist that flickered away in a blink. In pristine condition, Harry plucked at the dress by the shoulders and held it up. 
Perfect. 
In order to maintain the facade, he carefully hung up the garment in the laundry room, figuring he at least had another hour to spend with a quick break between so he could pretend to throw the dress into the dryer. The time it took him to make his way to the laundry room had been cut in half on his way back, eager to return to the wannabe witch in his quarters. 
Pushing open the slightly cracked door, he found (Y/N) on his bed with one of his vials in hand and a book splayed open on the mattress. She looked up at him with bright eyes when she realized he had returned. 
While his illusions were strong, able to trick the eye of even the most skeptical of witches, that didn't mean they could hold up against someone digging their fingers through the veil. The spell could only do so much when whoever was gazing upon it went looking for answers. 
"Harry!" she bubbled off, practically bouncing in her spot with the mattress creaking underneath. 
"W-What are y'looking at, love?" he asked her, voice cautious as he took measured steps towards her. While she didn't seem particularly disturbed by what she found, he didn't want to spook her if she happened to be teetering on the edge. 
"One of those books on your shelf," she smiled, pointing at a passage on the worn page in front of her, "You really go all out, don't you?" 
Crawling onto the bed beside her, Harry peered over her shoulder at the book. A spell for how to grow a witch's garden, complete with a guide for the best seeds for beginners and an illustration with different critters growing out of a soiled plot. This was a good one; he used this one a lot in college when he was too broke to go out and get his potion ingredients. It had been hard to hide from Mitch before he knew, though.
"What do you mean?" Harry pressed, feeling sober as he sussed out where she was coming from. 
"For Halloween," she stated, a 'duh' tone to her words, "With all your decorations, I mean. Where did you even find something like this?" 
Harry deflated on the spot when he realized she thought this was all apart of his costume, his commitment to the holiday stretching as far as filling his bedroom. "Oh yeah," he sighed, a gently nod of his head having his curls swaying around his face, "'S my favorite time of year, what can I say." 
"I can tell," (Y/N) laughed, turning the page of the book with a vial of lavender's blood in her hand, "It's like a witch's lair in here. All you're missing is one of those big pots." 
"A cauldron?" Only the head of the coven had one of those. 
"Yes, that! Where they make all their potions and cook kids for dinner, and everything." The way (Y/N) muttered those details, her words could have been taken as fact. If he got far enough, he knew he would have a lot of fun dispelling all of the myths floating around her pretty head. 
"I'll have to think of that for next year. Definitely not really selling the whole witch thing without it, am I?" Propping himself up beside her with a hand sinking into the mattress behind him, Harry settled into his spot. With (Y/N)'s shoulder exposed thanks to the slouchy nature of the shirt he gave her, he felt himself begin to float off in his thoughts.
He wondered what she would taste like if he stole a kiss on the cuff of her exposed shoulder. 
"I don't know," she mused, the sound of her voice pulling him out of his head, "I think you sold it really well. Even without that pot thing, you've got that thing about you."
"I do?" he pressed, feeling all too satisfied at the peek into her thoughts about him.
"Yeah, it's like... I don't know what to call it," she started, her voice falling to a lower volume as her brows pinched together, "Is it an aura? Or is it a—" 
Her explanation was cut off as soon as she turned her head to face him, her mouth dropping into a gap when she realized just how close he'd come to her. The tangle of her lashes could be seen up close now that he wasn't hindered by the colored lights from downstairs or the obstacle of distance. If he could, Harry would have sat here all night counting her lashes and recounting them three times over just to be sure. Anything to keep him close. 
But, right now, his main focus was the pout of her gaped lips. 
"What were y'saying, love?" he prodded, absently bringing his free hand up to cradle the soft of her cheek. He could have sworn he felt the skin heat under his palm. 
"Um," she hummed, her gaze flicking between his own before skating down the bridge of his nose and the hills of his Cupid's bow, "I don't know, actually." 
"My aura?" he offered though he didn't even really listen to what he was saying. 
Recognition flickered in her irises for just a moment before it was melted away in favor of letting something much warmer and honey-dipped to take it's place. Again, there was that circuit she ran from his eyes, to his nose, and down to the pout of his lips. Oh, a quick detour to the small mole that was stationed just off to the side of his mouth. 
"Yeah, that," she muttered, shifting in her spot to give him the full of her attention with the book forgotten for the time being, "I like your's. It makes me feel... warm. It's nice." 
"Yeah?" he smiled, tilting his head to the side just so, "'M nice? I like your aura too, honey. 'S very sweet; giving me butterflies if 'm being honest." 
"I am?" she asked, her features lighting up as she stilled with her gaze matching his. 
"Mhm," Harry hummed, a grin stretching across his features, "You've got me bad, darling, I can't lie. Been wanting to get to know y'since I picked up Gem that first time. You're so pretty, I couldn't get y'off my mind." 
When the tip of his nose nudged against hers, Harry felt a bit smug when he heard the hitch in her breath. His hold on her cheek solidified into a grounding touch, ensuring he was right here with her and he had her just where he wanted. In the same moment he opened his mouth to ask the same question he'd had on his mind since he saw her outside of the yoga studio, he was cut off by the sound of his wannabe witch's voice. 
"Can I kiss you?" 
It was a no-brainer, the way he reacted. Not only was she the sweetest thing in the world asking him for a kiss, but she'd read his mind completely. Maybe she did have some power in her, if she'd read him so clearly. 
Tipping his head, Harry pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss. The lingering essence of alcohol was the first taste he picked up from her skin before he was washed away with the flavor of the remnants of her lip gloss she'd started the night with. Notes of hot cocoa with whipped cream had him smiling into the kiss, the slight grit of glitter touching at his own lips.
"Hot chocolate?" he murmured against her lips, unterrupting himself with another taste of her soft lips. 
"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, the noise almost a throwaway as she brought her hands to cradle his face, the vial of lavender's blood rolling somewhere across his bed. At least he had a cork in it. 
"Your lip gloss. 'S hot chocolate, isn't it?" 
(Y/N)'s mouth erupted into a smile that matched his own, only falling when she had to pucker to give him something real to taste. "Oh yeah," she sighed with amusement tinting the words, "I forgot about that, sorry." 
"Don't be sorry, love," he said, going in for another smattering of kisses, the soft sounds of the contact filling his room. "I like it." 
She all but melted at his admission, Harry being the only thing that kept her steady as she fell into him. Mindful of the fact the both of them had been drinking tonight, (Y/N) seemingly a tiny bit more effected still, he maneuvered himself to lay back onto his bed with a bounce of the mattress. He pulled (Y/N) to lay atop him, her torso pressed against his while their legs tangled together side-by-side over his duvet. 
Slotting his lips between her own, Harry got to taste her mouth and a swipe of her tongue. As much as he wanted to explore more, taste more, learn more, he left her to tease him with those disappearing licks from the tip of her tongue and wet kisses delivered to his lips. It was more than enough to feel her heartbeat hammering against his chest from how tightly they were pressed together. 
"Harry?" she asked after who knows how long of their only communication coming in the form of lingering kisses.
"Hm?"
"How much longer do you think for my clothes?" 
Harry hummed with a growing smile. He feigned deep thought as he pulled away just enough to graze the corner of her mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to the apple of her cheek. "We have time." 
—————
"Did you sleep with her?" 
Harry rolled his eyes as soon as he heard his sister's voice in the kitchen. He had been hoping he woke up early enough to avoid her. 
"No, Gemma." 
"So why is her costume in the laundry room and she's in your bed?" 
He was too hungover for this. 
"She spilled something on her dress, and then we jus' talked in my room until she fell asleep. I swear on mum's spellbook that we didn't have sex." He looked her in the eye as he made his promise, raising a brow to see if she would bother to argue with him. 
For the first time since moving away from the coven, Harry saw his sister give in. With a flutter of her eyes that he swore were identical to their mother's, she took her metaphorical step back. 
"Sorry," she offered, shaking her head as she picked up another discarded ghoul cup, "I think I'm in a bad mood this morning." 
"'S alright," Harry told her, meaning the sentiment, "I get it, you know. After really meeting her, I get why you've been a little protective." 
Gemma brightened up at the roundabout way he had admitted she was right. "Yeah? Doesn't she kind of remind you of C—" 
"Colleen," he finished for her, referencing one of the sweetest women of their coven. The resident healer and brightest of their little family. Despite being closer to one hundred than Harry could imagine living, she never lost that starry sparkle or softened heart. 
"A younger, not as nosy version, but she's definitely a little like Colleen." 
Harry agreed with a hum as he jerked his chin to commanded the butter he'd pulled from the fridge to spread across his toast, extra slices for (Y/N) included. "I promise 'm not trying to mess anything up, Gems, really. We talked a lot last night, and she ended up falling asleep, that's all. But, if she'll let me, I do want to take her out." Harry paused, shuffling his feet with his gaze falling to the kitchen island. "Is that alright?" 
"You don't have to ask me for permission to date anyone," Gemma stated, shaking her head with a twist to her lips, "I'm sorry I've been hard on you about all of that stuff. I think I'm just missing mum a lot, so I'm trying to be like her as if that'll be the same, so I'm sorry about that. Whatever you do, as long as you're happy, I'm fine with it." 
It was unspoken the way Harry offered her a hug with his opened arms, Gemma wrapping her own around his middle when she was close enough. As much as they loved to argue, Harry would do anything for his sister; there was no one else he'd rather try out this suburb experiment with. 
A silence that felt alot like the kind that used to fill their home with the coven settled over the party-torn kitchen. Running a hand over her spine, Harry tightened his hug just before loosening and pulling away enough to catch her reaction to his next works. 
"I think (Y/N) knows, though. About the witch thing." 
"What?!" 
—————
Harry squeezed (Y/N)'s hand in his own as he followed the directions she'd given him to take her home. In his passenger seat, she was still clad in her borrowed clothes, slouching shoulder prevailing with her skin shining the morning light.
"I had the weirdest dream last night," (Y/N) started, sounding much too chipper for a night of drinking and the fact the time was still before noon. 
"Yeah? What was it?" Harry pressed, hoping he sounded as interested as he actually was despite the lack of energy under his skin. 
"Well, you were—I don't even know how to describe it," she muttered, stumbling over her ideas though Harry was very much stuck on the idea of him starring in one of her dreams. Even if it was weird. "I guess you were a kind of witch or something," (Y/N) picked up, her choice of words getting Harry's eyes widening before schooling his features. 
"Really? What was I doing?" 
"You had one of those spell books you had on your shelf, but it was real," (Y/N) bubbled off, sounding sweetly enthused at her imagination, "You were showing me all these potions, and there was this black cat following you, and then things got kind of weird but you were still a witch." 
"What got weird?" Harry pressed, his brows pinching as he took another instructed turn from his GPS.
"Well," she pitched, messy hair falling around her face, "Your black cat turned into some kind of squid or something and started inking all over the place and I kept trying to get the stains out and no one would help me. I had to wake myself up before I got too upset." 
The laughter that puffed from Harry's chest was incredulous as he listened to her recount the tale with conviction behind it. "'M sorry I didn't help you, love," he offered, bringing their joined hands to his lips with a kiss pressed to the back of hers, "I promise I'll help y'if m'cat ever turns into a squid, alright?" 
While his smile lingered on his face, Harry could tell the tone shifted when he pulled up in front of (Y/N)'s apartment building. Silence settled over the car. 
"Har—"
"So, I—" 
(Y/N) cut herself off with a jump while Harry immediately snapped his mouth closed to let her go first. It only took a nod of encouragement on his end and a squeeze of her hand to have (Y/N) taking the opportunity to speak. 
"I was just going to say that, I know we kissed and everything already, last night," she started, a beep breath filling her lungs in the middle when her gaze dropped to her hand in his, "But, I was wondering if you might want to go out, still? I get it if this was just a little party-thing, but—um—" 
"Are you asking me on a date?" Harry couldn't help the smug curl of his lips, a dimple thumbing into his cheek. 
With a shake of her head, gaze still down, (Y/N) rolled her eyes though the motion lacked grit with a tender smile on her lips. "I guess so. You don't have to sound so sure of yourself, though." 
"Me? Smug and cocky? I don't see it," he teased, leaning across the center console until he only had to speak in a gentle tone for her to hear, "If 'm not too sure of myself for you, I would love to take y'out, honey. It would be a bit of a bummer if we have to tell people our first date was jus' us making out in m'bedroom after walking in on someone getting head in the bathroom." 
The bubbling laugh he pulled from her was one he wished he could commemorate somehow, make it into something he could wear with pride wherever he went. That was something he would be smug about, no questions asked. 
"I don't know, I don't think that sounds that bad," she played along, chancing a look through the fan of her lashes, "But—um—I don't have to work on Friday, so maybe we could go to dinner or something?" 
"Got anywhere special in mind?" he asked, a lilt to his tone. 
Her messy hair fluttered with a nod of her head. "Kind of. There's this place downtown that's pretty good, but it's two doors down from this shop that has all of these 'witchy' things, so we could go there, too, if you haven't been yet." 
"I don't think I have," Harry smiled, the curl lopsided, "Y'gonna take me and show me how it all works?" 
The way she lit up at his gentle words had dangerous implications. If she wasn't careful, Harry was going to keep her forever. 
"Maybe, they even have a cauldron to go in your room next year." 
"We can only hope." 
He couldn't help but to kiss her then. The scent of hot cocoa and sparkle of glitter stained his mouth all the way home. 
—————
I know this is late for a halloween fic but I really hope you guys still like it! thank u sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any ideas or requests of your own please send them in !
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gurugirl · 1 year ago
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Ghost!Harry Masterlist
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October/Halloween 2023
On Halloween Morning
A horror-filled Halloween one-shot. Harry is a ghost and you don't believe in ghosts but you find out you were dead wrong.
Super Dark - Beware
This one shot contains the edited out parts for the ghost!Harry piece I wrote. It’s a sort of behind the scenes with extra bits you didn’t get to read the first time. I tried to make this as cohesive as possible so if seems anything feels out of order or is repetitive, just know I tried - these bits were pulled from the original one-shot and this is the result
Ghosty Blurb
Requested: i can see ghost harry using yn to attract dumb man to the houseor even fuck her while some visitors are around
The Halloween Call - A cop!harry crossover
Harry takes a call to check out the scene of crime at an old abandoned house, well known as the Slaughter House with a grim history.
The Séance Experience
A pair of spiritual mediums decide to host an underground seance on Halloween morning at the old abandoned Styles’ house, well know for being haunted. Things go awry. Not everyone escapes.
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enyasaints · 3 days ago
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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
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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
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Venmo: Enyasaint
CA: Enyasaint
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gucciwins · 1 year ago
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Y/N just wants Harry to like her.
Word count: 5964
A/N: Friends!!!!! I am sorry to have disappeared but I am back. Yes, I am aware this is a Halloween/October story but you're getting it now mid November (that has been going by fast). I won't work on any holiday stories because I have no idea what to write. So if you have an idea and want me to write it feel free to shoot me an ask.
Now happy reading! I love you
+
Many people go to work ready to return home, but not Y/N. No, she walks in every day with a smile and a pep in her step. She greets her coworkers by name and occasionally brings baked goods she knows everyone will enjoy. Y/N loves her job, and she’s happy to go every day.
Y/N went from working in a job she hated because it was filled with men constantly belittling her and gaslighting her that she was doing her job wrong when she was actually excelling. It all got to be too much, and Y/N decided to quit. Thank goodness she did because soon into her job search, she received an email from Carla Crain asking her if she’d be interested in joining her company. Y/N went to the interview, and after basically being pitched her dream job, she accepted and entered as head engineer. 
She’d be lying if she wasn’t nervous starting, but the people Carla had hired all shared the same values on work and life. Y/N knew she’d be in safe hands. The company is small but slowly growing. It allows for every employee to get to know each other and everyone to remember that together, they can be successful. Y/N had been at the job for two years and, with time, brought new coworkers. 
There is Estrella, who loves to talk to you about astrology, ironically enough. She states that the invisible string theory is real and that if everyone tracked it, they would notice just how small the world is. 
Carmy has a tough exterior, but once anyone gets him talking, he never stops. He loves chatting about his family and his pet Pitbull named Daisy. 
Maeve is petite, and every other month comes in with a new color in their hair. Y/N enjoys it when everyone in the office places bets on what it will be. 
Tatum is from Scotland and loves to remind everyone when they all go out for drinks on the weekend. 
Chessy is the only one who works remotely, but when she comes in, she is always laughing in the office. They also all get a basket of fresh fruit and vegetables from her garden. 
Overall, Y/N knows she had the best coworkers and wouldn’t change her job for the world, but as their company grows, so does the need in their team. The newest hire is Harry Styles, who has come in as a computer technician to help develop their website and also help with any internal security. Honestly, all she knew was that it was a complex job. 
Harry was on the quiet side. She tried to start conversations with him, but he always seemed to brush her off. At first, Y/N wondered if she should take it personally but soon learned he did that to everyone. Even though he didn’t open up to them, they still invited Harry to join them. 
The thing was, he rejected all their dinners. Y/N loved going to a Korean BBQ Maeve introduced them to, and Harry claimed not to eat meat (not that she didn’t think it wasn’t true. Chessy was vegetarian, after all.) They would go to a bar and share a few drinks when they knew they would all be having a long weekend off. Harry always claimed he had an early morning. It didn't matter if they offered to meet earlier. Y/N’s favorite nights were trivia nights that happened at a local brewery. Y/N was a beat, especially in history. Harry declined, and this one hurt her the most.
 Everyone would ask Harry to join. 
Karaoke. Can’t hold a tune.
Bowling. Too loud. 
It seems there was an excuse for everything.
Everyone began to stop inviting him out, and while Y/N didn’t enjoy being told no, she would send notes to the office with the time and place of what they would be doing. She’d always keep an eye on the door, but Y/N went home disappointed each time.
The thing was, Y/N was determined to make a friend out of Harry. She soon learned large public settings must be overwhelming for him and decided to find a new way to approach him. Everyone took lunch at the same time in the office except for Harry. Sometimes, they all ate at the sub shop across the street. Most times, Y/N brought food from home, and she cooked. While she liked eating out, Y/N preferred a home-cooked meal. She caught Harry taking his lunch half an hour later than her and used that to her advantage. 
They had a conference that always remained empty as everyone preferred the main lounge. Harry went in there every day for his lunch hour. One day, Y/N walks in, smiles at him, and sits as far away as she can. She made sure to only be there for ten minutes. The next day, she stayed for twenty and wished him a nice lunch when she left.  
Slowly, Harry begins to spare her glances, but Y/N keeps to herself until the day she sits across from him. 
“Hi, Harry. Is it okay for me to sit here?” 
No answer. 
“I’m going to take that as a yes.” 
He fidgets with his fork. 
“I saw a lime bike out front. Did you ride that today?” 
Harry looks at her briefly before staring back at his plate. 
“I’ve always wanted to try one, but I’m honestly scared of being hit by a car. Chessy lets me ride hers when I go down to visit her. She’s got beautiful trails. You’d probably enjoy it.” 
Y/N thinks that’s enough for today and excuses herself. She doesn’t realize Harry noticed she didn’t take a bite of her lunch. When she goes back to her desk after using the restroom, she finds three chocolate chip cookies sitting on her desk. Y/N rushes to try one, doesn’t even think of who delivered them or that a green-eyed man was standing right outside waiting to hear her reaction. 
With time, it seems Harry is coming to appreciate Y/N’s presence. He has never expressed it, but she knows because he nods when he agrees to something she says or tightens the hold on his fork when Y/N shares something upsetting. Y/N had not gotten more than two words out of him. At this point, Y/N felt like Harry knew everything about her; all she knew was that he had the most beautiful eyes, and his hair always looked soft. 
One day, after many lunches together, she finds Harry reading a book. Y/N knows he might want quiet, but her curiosity gets the best of her. 
“Any good?”
Harry looks up and grimaces. “Think it’s really boring.” 
Y/N laughs because she wasn’t expecting that response. “Then put it down.” 
He shakes his head. “Don’t like not knowing the ending.”
Y/N shrugs, “if you don’t like a book, I wouldn’t put myself through the torture of it all. Skip to the end if you're curious.” She understands she spoke too much and excuses herself. 
The next day, Harry is sitting in his usual spot, but this time, a new book is in his hand. Y/N bites back a smile. 
“What’s this one about?”
“My sister recommended it,” he defends. 
Y/N isn’t halted by his harsh tone. “What’s it about?” 
“Well, it’s Pride and Prejudice.” He shows her the book cover. 
“Like the movie?” Y/N asks.
Harry laughs, and Y/N feels successful. His laughter rings in her ears. It’s a lovely sound, and she wishes to hear it more. “Yeah…I like the movie.” 
“Me too,” she gushes. “Do you think I’d like the book?”
He frowns, “if you like Jane Austen.” 
“Might have to pick it up next time I’m in the shops.”
+
Their interactions are solely during their lunches but sometimes spills out during work. Y/N seemed to have an issue with her computer and radioed IT. She needed to submit her document, but her desktop appeared to freeze whenever she opened a new file. Harry knocked on her door, and she welcomed him in. Y/N explained the issue, and Harry was quick to get to work. It was only a few minutes when she noticed that her document was open and her computer wasn’t having a meltdown.
“Thank you so much, Harry!” Y/N cheers, knowing he saved her. 
Harry shrugs because it’s his job. “You have a nice photo.” He’s pointing to her picture frame on her desk. It’s a picture of her and a dog in Iceland at the end of her hike. It was taken back when she was nineteen years old. 
“Thank you. I took that on my first solo trip.” She bites her lip, hoping Harry takes the bait. 
“Where to?” He asks curiously. 
She silently cheers, “Iceland.”
“Is that your dog?” 
“I actually found him mid-hike and took him back with me. I hoped to see his owner on the trail, but there was no luck. He didn’t even seem worried. Once I returned to the car park, his owner was there. After that hike, I decided I liked the company of a dog and returned home to adopt Tutter, a Jack Russel Terrier who loves to play fetch.”
“Why isn’t Tutter on your desk?” 
Y/N feels her face flush, “now, don’t be mean. I love my son, but that trip taught me I can do anything I set my mind to, whether alone or with company.”
Harry gives her the slightest smile. “I-I learned Italian because I always dreamed of having an Italian home.”
Y/N’s eyes brighten. Harry is opening up to her, and instead of pushing, she offers more of herself. “I’ve dreamed of visiting. The Amalfi coast is my dream to swim in. Silly, I know,” she brushes off, trying to downplay her excitement. 
Harry doesn’t let her. “You’ll make it.”
He finally excuses himself. Y/N is happy for the rest of the day because she realizes Harry is allowing her in.
+
September means the preparations for Halloween have begun. It starts with little things, from coasters and mugs to the occasional treat. One day, a tiny spider sits on his desk for a second. Harry believed it was real until it began to glow purple. Harry kept it on his desk next to his sticky notes. He doesn't do anything about it; there’s no need. By the second week, the office is entirely decorated. Harry admits a few decorations have scared him, especially the skeleton in the corner of the restroom.
It’s a quiet day when he’s walking by the break room on his way to the secluded office to have lunch when he hears people talking. Harry pauses because he hears Y/N’s voice mixed in with everyone else. 
“But it seems like he doesn’t like us,” Harry hears quietly. 
“It’s hard,” Y/N defends. “You’re all extroverts. It can be overwhelming.” 
Harry knows she’s trying for them to understand.
“But Carla is all about unity in the office. This is a concern.”
“It’s not, Carmy.” Y/N shuts him down, clearly upset she had to defend him.
Harry decides he’s heard enough and decides to eat lunch alone in his car. He’s thankful it was a sandwich and nothing he had to heat up. For the entire lunch and the rest of the day, all he thinks about are the words of his coworkers. 
Y/N looked for Harry, excited to talk about a book she started, but Harry was nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t have been concerned, but it’s clear no one saw him since before lunch. She wishes Harry could confide in her even if a fraction of what she shares with him/ 
The next day, everyone walks into the office at their usual time, everyone making their rounds together to the break room to prepare their coffees and store their lunch in the fridge. When Y/N walks in, she sees her coworkers huddled around the table and peeks around them to see what has captured their attention. There on the table is a box of Halloween cookies from a bakery uptown with a note attached. 
Enjoy - HS
Y/N lets a smile take over her face. She knew Harry cared about them but understood why he finally did something. She tells her coworkers they owe him an apology, and they all agree. Y/N makes sure to head to Harry’s office and thank him for the cookies. Harry tells her it’s nothing. She bounces away to her office, where Estrella, Carmy, Maeve, and Tatum are standing outside her door. 
“Can you come with us? Feel like he likes you.” Tatum tells her. 
Y/N sighs and tells them to follow her. Once again, she knocks on his door, and they all file in when he welcomes her in. Harry looks at them confused. 
“Uh, is there an issue?” Harry asks, concerned. 
Carmy starts, “we want to apologize if you overheard us yesterday.” 
“Right,” Harry sighs, knowing it might be a good time to share with them. If he trusted Y/N and she trusted them, he knew he could also start to. 
“It was wrong of us,” Maeve continues. “Y/N raves about how smart and nice you are, but we don’t get to see that. We’re sorry.” 
Everyone else repeats the sentiment while Harry looks at Y/N, who offers him an encouraging smile. She must know his anxiety is through the roof. 
Harry takes a deep breath, “right, uh.” He looks down at his shoes, untied lace on his black Adidas. “I struggle with social anxiety and new environments. It’s better than when I was a kid, but it’s easy to get overwhelmed even more when being the new guy.” 
“No worries. We get that,” Tatum expresses. “Estrella gets bad migraines.” 
“Don’t air other people’s personal stuff,” Y/N reminds them. 
“We’re sorry,” they offered one last time. “Thanks for the cookies.” 
After that, they hurried out while Y/N stayed behind. 
“I wanted to apologize,” he begins.
“You don’t–” Harry cuts her off. “You’ve made me feel comfortable.”
Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders drop. “Not enough, it seems.” 
“It can just be too much sometimes.”
“I-I get panic attacks.” Y/N shares, surprising herself. “When I overwhelm myself, it can happen. It’s uncommon and has not happened at work, but I understand.” 
“Thank you for sharing,” Harry tells her honestly. “Lunch?” 
“See you in a bit then.”
+
Through September, Y/N and Harry have lunch together every day. They read together, Harry more into classic literature, and Y/N loving to devour a juicy romance that has her pausing every few minutes, trying her best not to scream because the love interest brushed hands. Some days, Y/N will do a sudoku game while Harry does the daily crossword. Y/N likes to solve the Wordle of the day and most times asks Harry for help if she fears she might not get it. Some days, Y/N brings in her laptop during lunch because she is behind and needs to catch up. Harry reminds her to relax. He knows it’s easier said than done, so he tells her about the book he’s reading or asks about her dog and the snacks he eats. 
Before she knows if they’ve made it to October. One of the best months of the year. Y/N loves planning events, and this is one she wishes Harry would say yes to. She knocks on his office door, and Harry freezes, staring at his computer screen. He glances at the calendar; it's the first Monday of the month, and Harry knows they’ve planned a fun event. 
Harry is practicing his excuse when Y/N walks in with a bright smile, wearing a “Great Pumpkin” shirt with Snoopy and Charlie Brown. She has told him it’s her favorite movie to watch during the month and “The Conjuring” Harry wasn’t sure how the sweetest girl he knew could handle a horror film like that. He had told her she was fearless.
“Hi, Y/N, pretty shirt.” 
Y/N looks down at it as if she had forgotten what she was wearing. She beams at his compliment. “Thank you, Harry!” 
Harry asks how her day is going and shares how there was traffic on the way down and how she didn’t have time to stop by her favorite coffee shop because there was a line out the door. “Pumpkin spice isn’t even that good, H. I mean, it’s okay, but I wanted my coffee.”
He laughs at her pouting and promises to make her one during lunch. She perks up at his mention of their shared time together. 
“Speaking of our time together. We plan to go to a haunted pumpkin patch in the next town over if you want to join us. It’s two weeks from now, so it's the 21st.” Harry could hear the excitement in her voice and didn’t think he could say no to her.
“Everyone is going?”
“We invited everyone, but only Carmy, Estella, Maeve, Tatum, and myself are going. Carla was not for it. Dan is warming up to us but still says no. Though he did agree for trivia next week.”
Before he can stop himself, he says, “yes.”
“You will?” Y/N answers surprised. 
“Mhm…uh, it sounds like fun,” he says unconvincingly.
Y/N’s smile brightens, “I’m not hung on haunts, but they’ve got amazing apple cider you’ve got to try with me.” 
“Happy to join,” he tells her honestly. “Let me know the ticket cost or if we need to purchase our own.”
She nods eagerly. It’s clear Harry has just made her day. 
+
The day comes faster than he’s ready, and while a part of him is excited, Harry feels his nerves will get the best of him. Y/N had told them no one was dressing up in costume and even went as far as to send him a photo of her outfit to assure him she wasn’t playing a joke with him. She was wearing bell bottoms with a Mickey Mouse in a pumpkin shirt. She told him it was his favorite to wear each year. 
Harry knew it would be cold, so he wore a simple Halloween shirt in his closet and loose-fitting jeans. His jacket in his car he knew would keep him warm throughout the night. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone (only Y/N) but also wanted to look nice outside of the office for once. When Harry parked, Y/N told him she’d wait by the entrance for him, and he couldn’t miss her as she had a cute pumpkin headband on.
It seemed Y/N spotted him, too, because she rushed towards him. “Hi, Harry,” she greeted with a cheery smile.
“Hi, you look lovely,” he offered her a small compliment that made his hands sweat.
“You’re too sweet. Come on, we were waiting on you.” She grabs his hand and pulls him along to where everyone else is. 
Everyone offers their greeting, and he receives a few compliments on his tame outfit. It’s an old Halloween shirt he got at a vintage shop in New Orleans five years ago. His sister went on a trip and asked him to join. Harry could never say no to her. 
Harry notices everyone begins to drift off into conversations, but Y/N stays by his side. He takes the time to admire her as she looks around at all the decorations. There are a lot of people, but it seems they are heading to the pumpkin patch. There are stalls selling sweet treats, and he keeps in mind to buy Y/N a cider, remembering she mentioned loving it. Harry has always thought being in a relationship to be intimidating. He loves love but struggles to put himself out there, to allow someone else to get to know him, but here is Y/N, who managed to worm her way into his life, knocking down all of his walls. 
Harry likes Y/N.
It’s something he took a long time to figure out, but when he realized the excitement of seeing her each morning, he looked forward to it. He let it consume him, but he had no idea if she could feel the same way. 
“Did you drive here, Harry?” Y/N asks, breaking their silence. 
“I did,” he answers. 
“Do you think you could maybe take me home?” She brushes her hair out of her face. “I came with Tatum, but she’s been wanting to take the time to connect with Estella, if you know what I mean,” Y/N gestures to them kissing on hay bales. 
Harry had no idea that there were feelings between them. “I can do that, Y/N.” 
“Great!” She cheers gratefully. “I owe you an apple cider, then.” 
Y/N eagerly walks them to the stand, and before she can pay for both, Harry slips the kind older lady a twenty walking away with their drinks. Y/N stays behind, shocked, but quickly catches up, pouting at Harry. “Harry, I was going to pay.”
He shook his head, “my mum would have my head if I let you pay.”
Y/N bends her head, careful to take a sip of the warm drink. “Well, thank you.”
Maeve bounces over to them. “Hi beauties, we’re ready to start if you all are.” 
Harry eyes Y/N, waiting to see her response. Y/N offers her friend a large grin, and Harry agrees he’s ready. He throws away their ups, and once he finds Y/N with the group, he slithers to stand behind her. Y/N offers him a tense smile as the group tries to decide who will lead. 
“I can go in front,” Harry offers, sensing no one wanting to make the first move. Everyone thanks him and heads to the first maze. Y/N informs him it’s once based on the catacombs in France. 
“There’s a movie based on the catacombs,” Y/N shares as they walk together.
“As Above So Below,” Harry says. “It spooked me.” 
“You’ve seen it,” she laughs, holding onto his arm for a second, unable to contain her excitement. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“It’s a good one,” he agrees. 
They fall into silence as the chatter of their coworker fills the air. Harry sees Y/N get fidgety, but she’s smiling as she leads the way to the short line. “I’m actually really nervous,” she tells Harry. 
“We’ll be fine. I got you,” he assures Y/N.
Harry extends his hand, and she accepts it. He intertwines their fingers and pulls her along as the line moves slowly. Y/N does her best not to think about the feeling of his hand, but it fits perfectly between hers. She feels her hand begin to sweat and wants to pull it away, but Harry has a firm grip on her. 
“Is it okay?” Harry nods, gesturing to their hands. 
“Safe, uh, I feel safe.”
The worker asks how many, and Y/N peeks behind Harry to tell her six. Harry is grateful Y/N knows when to take charge because while he can lead a scary maze and knows everyone is dressed in costumes, he still feels nervous speaking to strangers. Harry squeezes her hand once in thanks. She gives him two quick squeezes in return.
Harry guides them in. Y/N lets go of his hand to hide behind Harry, her hands on his shoulder as she peeks behind him. There is a group ahead where she can hear the people in front screaming, which allows her to prepare for the scare, if that is even possible. 
Her eyes widen in amazement as she takes in the darkness of the building. Everything is covered in black cloth. She can see the spots where actors will jump out. Y/N mumbles an apology to Harry for holding on to him tight. Estella is behind her, screaming at everything that moves. Harry steps through the curtain, and she feels her hold on him loosen. As she is stepping closer to reach him, a man screams in her face, making her rush forward and propel Harry into a wall. 
“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Y/N apologized repeatedly as Harry rushed them to finish the maze. She felt her heartbeat in her throat and knew she needed to calm down. One look at Harry, and he rushed her to a dark corner, not concerned about their friends. 
“Y/N? I’m okay. You’re okay.” Harry tried assuring her.
She repeated it in her head. They were okay. They got out of the dumb maze, and Harry wasn’t hurt. It took her a few minutes to realize she had a panic attack. Y/N had not even felt it coming and didn’t think a haunted house would trip her into one, but with all the overthinking she had been doing, it made sense it led to this.
“I’m sorry, Harry.” Y/N bashfully looks away from him. She can’t believe she embarrassed herself in front of him like this. 
“No apologies,” he brushes her off and doesn’t ask her any questions, only to ensure she is okay. 
They rejoin the group after ten minutes by the looks of everyone's sympathetic smiles. She knows they saw her freak out, but they’re her friends. She knows she’s in safe hands with everyone, especially Harry.
“What’s the next maze?” Y/N asks cheerfully. 
And so they continue on. 
The next maze is much smoother than the first. Carmy leads, tucking Harry and Y/N in the middle with Tatum and Estella in the back. That order seems to comfort Y/N for the next few mazes. Each worker makes her scream but then falls into giggles when Harry traces comforting shapes on her hand. It takes her mind off these scarers trying to get her to scream and instead focus on the gentle touches of her crush. 
While doing the mazes is fun, Y/N is soaking up talking to Harry in line. They’re in a new environment where they do not need to discuss work. She feels free to ask him anything, but sometimes she is unsure where to start. Y/N doesn’t know if she wants to hear about his weekend plans or ask him about his favorite movie or who his favorite Muppet character is? 
Talking to Maeve and everyone else is easy because she’s gone out with them. She knows them personally, but with Harry, he always kept that guard up, and now she’s unsure what to do if he decides to keep it up. 
To her surprise, Harry always starts the conversation with her. Harry shares about a new show he started watching and how it makes him anxious for the main character when they do something out of character. When he asks Y/N if there is a show she recommends, her mind goes blank, and the first thing that comes to mind is “Fleabag.” 
“It’s the saddest but most comforting show I have ever seen,” Y/N gushes. 
“With Phoebe Waller-Bridge?” 
“Mhmm…the second season has Andrew Scott. Irish treasure.” 
“Paul Mescal,” he adds. 
“Hozier.” 
“Saoirse Ronan,” they say in unison before falling into fits of giggles. 
“You’ve got taste, Styles.” 
“As do you.” 
The line moves, and they change conversations to talk about the best musicals they’ve seen. Y/N swears “Waitress” is the best thing created, but Harry tells her “Moulin Rouge” is his favorite. Y/N loves how easily the conversation with Harry seems to flow. He feels like a long-lost friend. Someone who once was in her life has now found his way back to her. 
Not only is he getting along with her, but everyone is getting to see the Harry she had come to know. The one who makes cheesy jokes and loves to hear every detail of the story being told. It turns out he and Maeve frequent the same record store. There’s a Stevie Nicks vinyl Harry is on the hunt for, and Maeve promised to keep an eye out for him. Tatum learns Harry can play guitar and asks him to show them sometime. Something he agreed to with pink cheeks. Y/N knew tonight was a big step for Harry, and she was glad everyone made him feel comfortable.
As the night was coming to an end, the maze lines got shorter, and the more Y/N screamed. It made her laugh right after, but still not her favorite part of the night. Before the cold can settle in, they all call it a midnight night. Tatum and Estella head out hand in hand. Y/N can’t wait for the details of that on Monday. Carmy is telling Harry a story, so Maeve uses the opportunity to remind Y/N to make a move.
“It’s now or never, girlfriend.” 
Y/N rolls her eyes, “please don’t pressure me on this.” 
“Y/N that man is, head over heels for you. If I was antisocial this is not an event I would ever do. Unless someone I fancied asked.” 
Y/N toes her food in the sand and, in a low voice, asks, “do you really think he likes me?” 
Maeve smiles, brushing Y/N’s hair out of her eyes. “That man lit up every time your eyes were on him. I don’t know Harry as well as you do, but I can notice a guy with a crush from miles away. Trust me on this.” 
Y/N backs down, relaxing, “okay.” 
“Good. Now text me when you get home. Carmy’s got me.” Maeve gives her a tight hug and then pulls Carmy away from Harry. 
He walks over to her with a shy smile on his face. “Have a good time?” 
“The best,” she tells him. “Though I might need another apple cider. Think my heart needs it.”
“By all means, lead the way.” 
After getting one last warm apple cider, they reach Harry’s car. It’s an electric car because he’s conscious of his environmental impact and knows one person can go a long way into the future. Harry opens Y/N’s car door and waits until he sees her seated and buckled to close her door. As he gets ready to drive off, he turns on the heater, knowing if he’s cold, Y/N must be too. 
The car ride starts off quietly, Y/N guiding him every so often when to make a turn. Y/N sees her favorite coffee shop and knows she is almost home. “That was fun,” Harry starts. “I’m happy I went.” 
“Mhmm…it was a good time. Glad you joined us,” she tells him honestly. 
Harry notices at a red light that she’s fidgeting with her hands and thinks he might still be cold. “Do you need me to turn up the heater?” 
Y/N shakes her head, “no, sorry, I’m fine.” 
Harry drives down a few more streets when Y/N tells him to turn left. “It’s the third one on the right.” 
He parks right outside her driveway. From here, he can see her decorations hung up. It’s decorated charmingly. It’s clear no scaring would happen here. She’s got two pumpkins outside her door. One has stars carved all around; the other is a cat on a witch’s broom. Bat lights are hanging up the railing of the steps. She even has a few inflatables. His favorite has to be the one of Mickey Mouse as a vampire.
“Thank you for driving me home. I appreciated it.” She smiles at him, and he returns it. Harry gets out of the car and opens her door. 
“Let me walk you up.” 
Y/N feels her cheeks burn and leads the way. 
“We’re planning trivia soon,” Y/N says, testing the waters. 
“Hmm…only if you’re on my team.” 
“We would all be on the same team,” his flirting going over her head.
Harry’s face turns pink, “uh, right.” 
She laughs, placing her hand on his bicep. “Only joking.”
Y/N pulls him in, whispering good night, except when she pulls away, she locks eyes with his emerald eyes, and it’s like she’s in a trance. She feels herself leaning in closer, and before she knows it, Y/N presses her lips to Harry in an airy kiss.
She pulls back, shocked. “Sorry,” she breathed out. “I-I should have asked.” 
“Ask me,” he pleads. 
“What?” Y/N isn’t sure if she heard him correctly. 
Harry doesn’t care anymore. He raises his hand to rest on her cheeks. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” 
She feels how close he is. She can feel his breath mixing with hers. “Yes.” 
When their lips meet, Y/N swears she feels time stop. Harry is starting slow as he begins to learn what she likes.  Y/N places a hand on his chest, needing to have a secure hold as she feels him take her breath away. Her emotions are all over the place. His lips are smooth as they move against hers in a dance that feels like they’ve done a hundred times before. Harry deepens the kiss, pushing her up against the door, making Y/N grab a fistful of his shirt, not wanting him to pull away. Y/N lets herself get wrapped up in all her feelings because she knows that a kiss this special means it won’t be her only one, and she finally allows all her feelings to pour into the kiss. 
Y/N isn’t sure how long they spent kissing outside her door. It seems she’s lost track of time since she got a taste of Harry. “I don’t want you to go,” she mutters against his lips when she feels him begin to pull away.
“I’ll see you Monday,” he promises. 
“Too far.
Harry laughs, “you can call me tomorrow when you wake up.” Knowing she likes to sleep in, he would rather not wake her up. 
“Okay,” she whispers in defeat. 
“Good night,” Harry takes a step back. 
Y/N bites her lip and gives him a wave. “Do you want a kiss goodbye?” 
Harry can’t say no.
+
Monday morning, Y/N walks in with a large smile. It makes everyone stop and stare. She makes her rounds, wishing everyone a good morning, and saves Harry for last. 
“Hi, Harry.” She chirps. 
“Morning,” he answers timidly. 
Y/N pouts because he didn’t even look at her. She wanted to see his beautiful eyes. “So I was thinking…” she trails off. 
Harry turns, giving her his undivided attention, and Y/N’s smile widens. “How does a date sound to you?”
“A date?” He echoes. 
“With me,” she giggles.
“Best thing I've heard all day.”
Y/N claps her hands together, “wonderful.” 
“How does this weekend sound?” 
“Too far,” she teases. “Saturday?” 
“I’ll pick you up,” he promises. 
“Good. Good.” Y/N lingers by his door. 
“Yes, love?” 
Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but doesn’t look away from him. “Are we still on for lunch?” 
Harry gives her a dimpled grin, “I’ve got a new book for us to discuss.” 
Y/N tells him she can’t wait and walks away. Harry watches her go, and as if she can feel his stare on her, she turns around and gives him a wink. Harry knows he’s way in over his head with someone as amazing as Y/N, but he can’t wait to prove each day to her how much he deserves to be with her.
1K notes · View notes
freedomfireflies · 1 year ago
Text
American Psycho*
Summary: Part of Halloween Kinktober, Freaky Fun, and One for the Money*
The one where you and your boss, Mr. Styles, have a little bit too much fun at the office Halloween party.
Can be read as standalone!
Word Count: 4.6k
*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*
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“What…are you wearing?”
Mr. Styles glances down at his dark suit, brow cocked upward. “What does it look like?”
“Har,” you huff, although you’re smiling as you toss your makeup bag aside and move closer, “I thought you were putting on a costume. It’s a Halloween party, you’re supposed to dress up.”
“I am,” he argues. “I’m dressed as a guy that doesn’t want to fucking go.”
You laugh. “Come on, be fun for a change.”
“I’m the boss. I’m not supposed to be fun.”
“Well, they’re throwing this party for you,” you remind him. “Nadia’s been talking about it all week.”
“Right, instead of working. Which is not what I pay her to do.”
“Harry,” you repeat, shooting him a pointed look. “Seriously, why don’t you put on a little fake blood or something? You could go as Patrick Bateman!”
“And why would I do that when I could just not go at all?”
Pushing your pink, painted lips into a pout, you straighten up onto your tiptoes, and snake your arms around his neck. “Please, Sir? Just this once? For me?”
He begins to frown, but you feel his hands find your hips, expression stern but amused. “Peach…”
“I won’t ever ask for anything ever again,” you murmur, letting your mouth ghost atop his teasingly. “Swear. And I’ll behave all night. Be so good for you.”
He likes this idea, studying you carefully as his grip tightens. “Is that so?”
“Incredibly so. Just want to have fun with you, Sir.”
“I know,” he sighs, now cupping his palm against your cheek. “But you know the rule, honey. We can’t be seen together, not at the office.”
“I know,” you echo. “But we can still go. Even if we can’t exactly hold hands and dance in front of everybody, we can have fun. And I want that for you. You never take the stick out of your ass.”
Pinching your jaw playfully, he snorts. “And I thought you were gonna be good.”
“Once you agree, yeah. Until then, I make no promises.”
With a smirk, he grasps onto your chin, and tugs you to him. Smashing his lips to yours until you exhale gratefully and melt into his touch.
“Besides,” you mumble, “if you don’t come with me, then I’ll have to go in my slutty costume all by myself.”
Now you have his attention, his eyes narrowing sternly as he leans back to see you. “Oh, really?”
You nod. “Yup. Thought I’d use some of the lingerie you got me and go as a Playboy bunny.”
You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips – even through his nice dress shirt – and it makes you chuckle.
“Did you?” He doesn’t seem to have much else to offer, but you can see his walls beginning to crumble.
“Mhm. Equipped with a fuzzy little tail and ears.”
He swallows thickly before clearing his throat in an effort to appear nonchalant. “Well, let’s see it then.”
“Only if you agree to go.”
“Peach,” he warns, frowning again but you’re quick to shake your head.
“That’s my deal, Sir. Take it or leave it.”
And while you can tell he wants to be cross with you, he begins to smile, clearly amused with your negotiation tactics. Perhaps even a little proud.
“Fine,” he finally concedes, making you grin. “But I’m not putting on any makeup.”
“No, just a little fake blood,” you suggest, immediately rushing toward your bag to retrieve the bottle. “It won’t stain, and it washes right out.”
He eyes you carefully while you scurry across his apartment. “And I suppose you’d like me to carry an ax, too.”
“I mean…it would sell the part,” you tease. “But let’s start with the blood. Go wait in the bathroom and I’ll go change really quick.”
“No, don’t,” he calls, almost firmly before you can slip from the room. “Not yet.”
You hesitate. “Okay…why? What’s wrong?”
His tongue runs over his bottom lip while his head cocks deviously to the side. “Because if you do…then we aren’t ever leaving this apartment.”
And you can’t help but grin.
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“Let me guess…Edward Cullen?”
Even from a few feet away, you can see Harry’s expression fall. “Funny.”
“What?” Nadia smiles. “Come on, you look just like him. The blood and the suit and everything. It’s good.”
“Great,” he grumbles but you can tell he’s amused.
She laughs. “Patrick Bateman is a good look for you, boss. I like it. Feels…fitting.”
“Is that so?”
“It is. But in a sexy, fun kind of way.”
He snorts before his eyes trail over to you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
You wink.
The party is relaxed but enjoyable. Everyone is mingling, drinking, and dancing to the upbeat, spooky playlist. The usually boring, gray interior of the office floor is decorated with orange lights, carved pumpkins, and an array of ghostly décor. And nearly everyone came in costume, making it feel that much more like Halloween.
And despite the fact that you and Mr. Styles are forced to remain distant, you find yourself admiring him from across the room almost all evening. Happy that he seems to have finally begun to unwind, relax, and even enjoy himself. 
You watch as he engages in chatter with some of the other men in the finance department. You catch his eye while you’re grabbing a drink of the festive punch. And you feel him stare as you and Nadia head to the middle of the floor to dance to Somebody’s Watching Me.
Truth be told, you find it hard to be away from him after so many nights together. And even though it’s what you both agreed on, you feel a certain sort of longing for the handsome man in the corner of the room. 
However, neither of you are quite ready to tell the office you’re dating yet or deal with the potential fallout. At least not right now, when things are so new. Special. You suppose that could change in the future, but at least for tonight, he’s your dirty little secret.
So you resort to exchanging sneaky glances from time to time as you enjoy the party. Like now, when you catch his subtle but devious smile from behind the shadows while his hand casually slips into his suit jacket pocket. 
It’s a nonchalant motion. Relaxed enough that you barely catch on as you and Nadia continue swaying back and forth to the rhythm. Enjoying the heavy bass and eerie tune. 
And then, suddenly…you feel it. The first, gentle vibration from the toy sitting snugly inside your pussy. 
Your breath hitches.
And now you understand his look of amusement and the disappearance of his hand. He’s testing out the toy, warning you of his intentions even from the other side of the room. 
Just like he promised.
After all, that was his only condition. He’d dress up, he’d play nice, he’d be a good boss.
But if he wasn’t allowed to touch you all night, he at least wanted to have some fun. And remind you that he is still the one you belong to.
A reminder he gleefully gives you now, turning up the strength on the small bullet inside your cunt while he continues chatting with Alex from IT.
He’s not looking at you anymore – something you almost despise – but it’s obvious that he’s entertained. Fighting against a wry grin as he nods along in conversation. 
You, on the other hand, are beginning to feel the effects of the teasing. A sharp, pleasurable chill running down your legs while you falter in place and swallow a gasp.
Confused, Nadia eyes you carefully. “You okay?” she calls over the music, leaning closer. “You look a little woozy.”
“I’m…no, I’m…I’m good,” you manage to stammer, forcing a nod before you continue with your dance. “S’just hot in here, I guess.”
“God, you’re telling me,” she snorts, running a knuckle under her eye to catch some smeared makeup. “Last time I commit to the leather pants.”
Exhaling a laugh, you slowly pull your thighs together, hoping to lessen the vibrations currently traveling through your pussy. “Well, you look great.”
“Thanks,” she laughs before gesturing up and down at your costume. “What about you, hm? This is the sexiest corset I’ve ever seen.”
“Thanks, it’s quite hard to breathe in,” you retort playfully, glancing over the pink silk on your torso. “This will also be the last time I commit to lingerie in public.”
“Fair enough. But that’s what Halloween is for, right? So you can be your true, slutty self just for one night.”
You chuckle again before slowly looking over to catch a glimpse of your sadistic boyfriend. However, you find that the smug bastard is now nowhere to be found. Having disappeared from the room, leaving you to struggle without him.
And then, you feel the strength increase.
It’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore the pleasure building in your stomach or the sharp rushes of ecstasy that echo across your clit. Which you suppose is his goal, although you aren’t sure why he’s so determined to make you fall apart under so many obvious eyes.
But you imagine that’s part of the fun. The idea that even though he can’t be with you, he can control your pleasure.
And you have to admit…you adore him for it.
With a shaky exhale, you nod your head toward the exit. “I’m, uh…I’m gonna go get some fresh air for a bit. I’ll be right back.”
Nadia nods. “No problem. I’ll be here.”
Leaving her with a smile, you begin to search for where he might have gone. You imagine his office, although you aren’t quite sure how you’re meant to meet him when so many people are watching.
Sure, more than half the room is drunk or otherwise occupied, but you don’t want to taunt fate. Especially after begging him to come in the first place.
But the painful pleasure in your cunt is beginning to worsen and you realize rather quickly that there’s only one solution.
Him.
So, you take a deep breath and slip into the adjoining hall, traveling through the darkness until you find his door.
You take a deep breath and knock twice, calling a soft but hopeful, “Mr. Styles? Are you in there?”
The sound of a lock turning nearly makes you shiver, and you can’t help but grin giddily as the door swings open, and a hand outstretches for you.
You’re yanked inside before you can even offer a greeting, tossed mercilessly toward his desk while he slams the door shut, and turns to face you.
And he’s stunning. So effortlessly beautiful, even with the blood dripping down his face. You wonder if you should be worried you find this so attractive, but you don’t exactly have it in you to care. Because the way his disheveled suit hugs his broad frame is sinfully delicious and the ruby droplets smeared across his jaw makes your cunt clench around the toy.
He strides toward you, drinking you in like he’s dying of thirst. Eyes dark and clouded with salacious intentions. 
He takes hold of your face between strong palms and crashes his mouth to yours. Hips pushing you back until you collide with the wooden table just behind you. Trapping you there while you gasp for air and tangle your fingers in his messy curls.
He groans in response, nipping at your bottom lip until you can’t breathe. “Gonna fucking kill me, Peach. Walking around in this slutty little costume. Almost came in my pants when you bent over.”
You smirk lazily as his kisses move down your neck. “Good, that was my plan.”
He makes another animalistic noise before shoving at your waist a bit harder. 
One hand disappears back into his pocket while the other travels up your fishnet stockings and settles against your cunt. The heel of his palm pressing against your covered clit as his harsh kisses dance beneath your ear.
“Shit, Har—” you gasp before you feel him tug your skin between his teeth. “Sir. Please…need…”
“I know,” he grunts, increasing the power of the toy until you’re both moaning. “Can feel it, Peach. Feels good, hm? Feels so fucking good. Bet you’re gonna cum in your pretty, little panties before I even touch you, yeah?”
You make another incoherent noise as his hand pushes the toy further into your pussy. The electric vibrations reverberate across his palm, doubling the sensation until your head just about drops back. Making the bunny ears slip to the ground, forgotten. 
“Good,” he hums, and you feel a bit of his fake blood smear across your neck. “S’a good girl, honey. Already close, aren’t you? What a pathetic little thing. Always fall apart so fast when I use a toy to play with you.”
You nod quickly in agreement. After all, he’s right. Vibrators have you coming faster than almost anything else – besides his cock.
And his mouth.
This is a fact he utilizes now, nudging the vibrator further into you until your legs begin to shake. You can feel it in your stomach, the first unraveling as it becomes stronger, and louder, and faster.
You fling an arm around his shoulders for stability before you’re disintegrating beneath him. Writhing and squirming and panting as he sees you through. 
“There you go,” he whispers, mouth brushing over yours. Wanting to taste your moans as you come down. “You’re all right, my love. Doing so good, hm? Gonna give me another?”
You nod faintly and he smirks before reaching beneath your corset top to find the decorative panties attached to your costume. 
He shoves them aside without pause before ripping the delicate fabric of the stockings almost fiercely. And far too easily for your liking.
He then retrieves the small toy from inside your cunt – smiling when he feels how soaked the silicone has become – before he’s dragging it up to your clit. Pressing the stimulating tip into your sensitive and swollen nerves as you suddenly gasp and go reeling.
“Shh,” he hushes, glancing over your face. “Can’t be too loud, hm? Y’know I love it when you scream for me, but we can’t let me hear, can we?”
“It’s…it’s Halloween,” you counter. “They’re used to screams.”
But Mr. Styles merely smirks. “Be that as it may…I don’t want to share your screams with anyone else. Not tonight.”
You feel your head grow fuzzier as he dips down to take your lips with his.
“Tonight…your screams belong to me,” he exhales against your tongue before he’s pressing the vibrator harder against your cunt.
You’re a mess. Soaking his hand, your outfit, the toy. Shaking almost pitifully while he finally releases the remote to press his palm to the back of your neck. Forcing your faces together until neither one of you can breathe without the other.
He was right, you are pathetic. So goddamn tragic as you begin to shake beneath the bullet. Already close to your second orgasm of the evening before he’s even had a chance to tease you.
But you don’t think he minds. He collects your orgasms like Pokémon cards. Wearing the number proudly until you’re nothing but a pile of limbs in his arms.
Two is only a start. And you know as long as he has this toy, he plans to force you into many more.
“Fucking shit, Peach,” he groans, forehead resting against yours as he glances down at where his hand is settled between your thighs. “Oh, that’s my girl. Always behave so well for me. Knew you would, yeah? Just like you promised.”
Again, you can do nothing but nod weakly. Still clinging to his body like a lifeline while he strokes you through the aftershocks.
“Okay,” he finally sighs, removing the toy and swiping his thumb across your clit. Collecting the arousal waiting for him just to bring it up to his lips. “Okay, honey, turn around. Bend over the desk for me.”
You whimper at the way he takes his body from you and from the very idea of what comes next. You hate that you won’t be able to see his face, but you adore this position. Especially because of the way he manhandles you.
Like now as his hands suddenly grasp onto your hips to fling you around so you’re facing his large, floor to ceiling windows.
The city is beautiful at night. Lit up like a prize, vast and seemingly endless. It’s one of your favorite things about his office and you smile to yourself as you take in the view.
But you aren’t afforded the chance to daydream long before he’s weaving his fingers through your roots and pushing you down until your chest meets his desk. Keeping you bent and pliable as he undoes his leather belt.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, squeezing your scalp as though to reward you. “Gonna fuck you quick. Can’t have Nadia come looking for you, can we?”
You whimper a response before you hear his pants fall to the floor, followed by a snapping of elastic as he pulls his cock from his briefs. 
“Let me have a look at you,” he grits, releasing your head so he can stand back and admire your dripping pussy. Pulling back the costume until your cunt is on display for his hungry eyes. “So fucking cute, Peach. S’all pretty and red. Just weeping for me, hm?”
“Sir—”
“Get all sensitive when I make you cum a lot, don’t you?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. “Your puffy little clit gets all swollen and achy, hm?”
“Yes…yes, Sir, please—”
“Just one more for now, yeah? Just one. And then I’ll take you home and do it right.”
There’s a racing in your chest that can’t be contained. A sharp thrill that lives beneath your skin. He’s everything. His voice, his touch, his intentions. Even his mind. It’s wickedly beautiful and you adore him more than anything in the world.
You feel his fingers smooth through your folds. Teasing you for only a moment before you feel his cock come into play. Repeating the action of pressing and slipping through the wetness that awaits him.
“Can’t tell you what this costume does to me,” he whispers, groping your side with one hand. Preparing you. “You, and this tight, little fucking top, and these goddamn tights. Everybody was staring when you came in. Fucking everybody and I could’ve killed them.”
You moan something akin to his name, but he’s not listening. He’s lost on you. On your body and the way it looks, spread out before him.
“Even this fucking bunny tail,” he snorts, and you feel him pinch the fuzzy ball on your ass playfully. “Sits so pretty on you, y’know. Just like that plug I got you.”
“Shit,” you mumble, stomach clenching at the memory. “Har—”
His hand comes down in a sharp strike to your left ass cheek as you jolt. “Uh-uh. What’s my name?”
“Sir,” you correct, eyes squeezing shut. “Sir, please…please fuck me. Need you so bad—”
“Do you, hm?” He lands another spank before smoothing over the area with calmer motions.
You nod. “You look so good, Sir. Can’t…can’t stand it.”
Even without being able to see him, you can picture his smirk. “Do I?”
“Yes,” you exhale, almost groaning from the thought. “Covered in blood, wearing my favorite suit. Even the way you did your hair. S’been so hard to keep my hands off you tonight.”
You hear a dark, rather sadistic chuckle. “You like the blood, do you?”
You whimper. “Know I shouldn’t, but…it makes you look so fucking hot, Sir.”
Another harsh smack to your ass. Louder this time. “You know how I feel about your cussing, Peach.”
“M’sorry, Sir. But it’s true. You’re so fucking hot like this.”
He spanks you a fourth time but he’s still chuckling. “I’ll remember that,” he murmurs, kneading the tender flesh in his palm. “Never thought my precious peach would have such dirty fantasies.”
“I don’t, Sir. Only when it’s you.”
And he seems to like this idea, cursing in the back of his throat before nudging the tip of his cock against your clit. Making you both gasp until he finds your hole.
The first push in is delicious. Slow enough to prepare you and ease you open, but it’s everything. Scratching an itch that makes your brain turn to mush. Until you’re nearly collapsing onto his desk with anxious whimpers. 
“Good,” he breathes from behind you. “Good girl. That’s it, my love. Let me in, just like that. You all right?”
Another faint motion of your head. One that almost concerns him as he laces his fingers back through your roots.
“Peach,” he grunts. “Know I need your words. And you will give them to me when I ask for them. So what’s your color?”
“Green,” you whisper, nails curling into the wooden table beneath. “M’sorry, Sir, I’m green. Just feels so good. Wanted…to focus. To feel you.”
You hear him sigh before he’s pushing in a bit further. “Then fucking feel me.”
He sits inside your cunt like he was always meant to be there. Warm and thick and the perfect stretch. Making the stars return to your eyes as you begin to cry out his name.
However, he releases your scalp only to reach around and smack his palm against your lips. Keeping you quiet as he begins his thrusts.
“Uh-uh,” he warns. “Be a good little bunny and stay quiet.”
The pace is slow at first. Just enough to drive you absolutely mad and you imagine the scariest thing about tonight is how easily you’ve become such a blubbering mess.
“Like it when Daddy’s mean, don’t you?” he calls, returning both hands to your hips. “Like it when I treat you like you’re nothing.”
You can feel the sticky substance of the fake blood smearing across your hips. Probably staining your clothes – an obvious mark of his touch. A mark you’d proudly wear for the rest of your life if he’d let you.
“So fucking wet, honey,” he hisses. “S’just drowning my cock, isn’t it?”
You offer a garbled noise.
“Yeah. Just dripping down me, baby. Begging me to do something about it. Begging me to fucking take you.”
Your entire body is shaking. Along with the desk and an assortment of papers and pens that become scattered with every sharp drive of his hips. 
And you can hear it. Can hear the sound of his cock slipping in and out of your pussy and echoing between the walls of his large office. Wet, and lewd, and almost pornographic in nature. It’s obvious how needy you are for him. How unhinged your body has become. Soaking him exactly the way he loves as he fucks himself into you.
You can feel the sweat beading at your hairline. Can hear your pulse thumping in your ears – in time to the music in the other room and the thrusting of his hips. Leaving you to do nothing but lay across his desk and take it. Take him, exactly the way he wanted.
“How about another, hm?” He squeezes your sides harshly before one hand leaves you. “Gonna give me another, my love?”
Nodding tiredly, you allow your lashes to flutter shut. Focusing instead on the sound of his voice and the rough touch of his fingertips. You can feel it building. Can practically taste the beginnings of a third orgasm. You’re powerless to the pleasure. Undone by the man behind you as he readjusts his stance and angles his cock up.
It’s wicked. The immense, overwhelming, and unfathomable coursing of lust between each joint, and muscle, and fiber. You can’t escape it, can’t fight it. Can’t even understand it.
That’s what you needed. That spot, that attention. Over and over and over, and he’s so good at hitting it just right. Only to drag his cock back out and leave you empty and wilted.
“Relax,” he orders firmly before a familiar buzzing reverberates between your ears. “Relax, Peach. It’s okay, honey. Just want one more.”
The bullet is snaked around your hip before it’s pressing firmly to your clit. Forcing the sensitive and swollen bud to succumb to the vibrations and bring you that much closer.
You cry out for a second time, hands scratching down his desk, but he only curses through gritted teeth.
“There you go,” he exhales, and it’s thick. “S’okay, I’ve got you.”
He’s a mad man. Deranged and borderline animalistic with the way he demands your body bend to his will.
“Sir—” You suck in a large gasp for air, but it’s useless. “Har, please—”
His large palm spanks down on your ass as punishment, but he doesn’t comment on your slip.  “I know. Almost there. Know you’re almost there, can feel you clenching, baby. Keep going. Feels so fucking good—”
“Can’t…can’t—”
“Yes, you can. Know it hurts, but you can do it. You’ll do it, come on.”
And you want to, you do. More than anything, but it’s almost too good. You can’t think properly, can’t seem to relax long enough to let the orgasm overtake you.
Then, he’s wrangling you up. Pulling you until your back is pressed against his chest while he nudges his nose against your cheek. Inhaling you with a groan before he trails a few open-mouthed kisses along your neck. 
And in the reflection of his office windows, you see your silhouettes.
You, in your stunning Playboy costume, tits bouncing up out of the corset with each thrust, fake blood painted across your face and neck.
And him.
The devastatingly wonderful man behind you. Dressed in the sexiest suit you’ve ever seen, gelled curls gone askew, and that same blood dripping down almost every inch of him.
And he’s pounding his cock into your cunt like there’s no tomorrow. Trapping you against his body, your heaving chest in one hand, and the vibrating toy in the other. 
“So good, Peach,” he whispers. “So fucking good. Need you to cum, baby, please. Right now. Cum.”
And you do.
You don’t expect it. Have no time to prepare for it. Don’t even understand it’s happening until that white-hot explosion is dancing down your spine and expanding through your stomach. All the way into your toes as you whimper his name and wither in his touch. 
He does his best to hold you up while maintaining the pace he set. Faster and harder until he’s spilling inside of you with a moan. Mumbling your name while a hundred praises follow suit.
The aftershocks of this one seem to drag on longer than most. But you both indulge in the floaty feeling as you work to catch your breath. Syncopating to each other’s inhales until your heartbeats become one. 
“Did so good,” he sighs, nuzzling his cheek to yours. “God, so fucking good. Feel like heaven, you know that?”
You smile lazily and settle into his arms, allowing your weight to rest atop his. “Well…it’s easy when you look like this.”
He chuckles softly and kisses your temple. “You really do have a blood kink, hm?”
“No, I have a you-covered-in-blood kink. I don’t care when it’s anybody else.”
Now, he reaches out to slide his finger under your chin and turn your face to his. Staring at you for only a moment before he kisses you. Hard and yet filled with an emotion you just might recognize.
“Want you to do something for me, Peach,” he mumbles against your lips.
You nod quickly.
“Want you to fix your little panties…go down to my car…and wait for me.” 
You feel your breath hitch.
He smiles.
“We’ve got some videotapes to make.”
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jarofstyles · 1 year ago
Text
Scarred
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Harry and Y/N work at a haunted attraction together- but no one’s ever seen his face.
WC-5.2k
Patreon
Warnings- mention of scars, bullying, anxiety, mention of blood, exhibitionism hint, slight angst and fluff
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When Y/N had first signed up to be a scare actor, she had heard a lot of things.
Be careful of guests with fear aggression. You may get punched.
Do not take candy from guests, there was an incident. 
Go for the people who are acting like they are too good for it. They make the best scares.
But the one she had thought was the most amusing? 
Everyone is hooking up. Be careful who you choose. 
Y/N had no intentions of hooking up with anyone. This had been a side job, a side hustle if you will, some money to pay off bills and let her get a head start on holiday gifts. She’d never anticipated that a scare attraction would have the amount of drama or hook ups that she had been exposed to. It seemed like people paired off, even her friends she’d made that had warned her in rehearsal runs, had found people to fuck around with. She had no plans on doing anything with anyone- until she’d met Harry. 
They had been in full costume when she’d met him. Skull makeup skillfully painted on his face, hair slicked back and some fake blood trickling down his temple. It was also splattered on his white dress shirt and knuckles, as well as the large axe he dragged along with him to make sparks on the pavement. He had a swagger to his walk, a smirk on his face as he approached Y/N, eyeing her up and down. 
Her own costume was of a crazed vampire princess. An elvira adjacent dress with multiple rips, loads more fake blood on her dripping down her chin and smeared around her neck and hands. The choker holding a cross pendant had been his area of attack, gently tugging on it with a hum as he got into her space. Even with the red contacts in his eyes, she could read them well. It was hard not to. “Look at that….” he mumbled to her, their faces nearing as he lifted his hand to expose his cross tattoo near his thumb. “We match.” 
That had been it before he walked away that time, but it wasn’t the end of it. It was only the beginning. 
The first time they’d hooked up had been in an empty dressing room. Her face in his neck as he fucked into her, trying to hide her moans as he had taken her deep, her leg held in his hand as she was pressed against the lit table. He’d been filthy, whispering into her ear about how he would have done this out there if she had let him, how much he loved to feel her wrapped around him, his makeup smearing on her face and vice versa.
“There we go… what a tight little thing you are.” His breath washed over her lips, keeping their faces close. His cock had gotten deep in her, deeper than she had ever experienced without it being too much, and she had felt like he’d fucked her brain to mush. Repeatedly getting at her most sensitive spot, finding it and keeping right at it. 
“Found it, didn’t I? So responsive. Teased me all fucking night, didn’t you?” He held her throat despite it still being sticky with the fake blood, watching her mouth open and panting. Her fingers held to the edge of the table and her knuckles pale, the slight wobble of her leg still on the ground cluing him in. “Do you know what I wanted to do?” 
“What?” Y/N whispered. “What did you want to do to me?” She was desperate to know, not able to hide the desperation in the slightest with how well she was being fucked. 
“I wanted to bend you over that bench. Brushed my stomach with those fucking nails… saying ‘oops’, like you hadn’t meant to. You did, you little slut. Just like you meant to push that perfect ass into me when you felt me come up behind you.” He hissed, tightening his grip on her throat. “Should have lifted up your skirt and taken you there. You were soaked for me then, weren’t you?” His grin was wicked, making her brain short circut. He was fully done in makeup despite it smearing near his mouth, and there was something so erotic about being fucked by a man in disguise. 
“Fuck- more.” She pleaded, gritty voice gracing his ears along with her whimpers. His hand was wrapped deliciously around her throat and his fingers expertly pressing right against the sides, showing his experience and honestly, expertise at the art of erotic choking. “Spit- spit in my mouth, please? Please I just-“ she was cut off by his snicker.
“You’re filthier than I thought.” He laughed, watching in pleasured awe as her mouth opened and her tongue laid out, eagerly catching the string of spit as he messily gave it to her. She could feel his cock twitch in her as her eyes hazily looked up at him, swallowing it with a slightly deranged giggle. 
“So dirty.” Her voice wheezed, opening her mouth for more. “Give me everything. I’ll be good, just- I want it all.”
Harry had definitely followed through in that promise. Hell, the man made her cum twice that first time, gently helping clean her up before they’d gone their separate ways. 
Y/N had yet to see him without the face makeup on. She’d caught him without the costume and seen the gallery of tattoos he had inked on his skin, but he always beat her there and seemed to like the game of having seen her face without her seeing his. In some ways, it was like a bit of foreplay to them both. Y/N never knew she had a kink that was mask adjacent but here she was. 
He didn’t even bother taking it off at the attraction, rather driving home in full makeup. Her friends had said they’d never seen him without it either, but the only thing they knew was his real eye color was green. Harry was a bit secretive and apparently had never hooked up with anyone in the past, despite working here for the last 5 seasons. 
“He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you.” Kristen mumbled to her as they did their makeup next to one another. In the reflection she could see Harry standing in a group with some other scare actors, but his focus was on Y/N. Seeing her find his gaze in the mirror, he didn’t look away. Instead, he winked at her, continuing his observation. Y/N felt herself heat under her skin, shaking her head as her hand trembled slightly as she lined her lips. 
“I bet he does. Come on, how big is he?” Her friend hissed, trying to gain some sort of juicy tidbit she’d been holding off on. 
“Big.” Y/N laughed, placing the cap back on her lip liner. “I don’t know any more about him than you guys do. I know what car he drives, that he doesn’t have any social media, has green eyes and a big dick. But he’s still a gentleman above all else, he always walks me to my car. But that’s about it.” She wished she knew more. Having hook ups happen exclusively at work was hot, but she’d love to be on a bed. And not have to rush. 
“I think he’s actually into you.” Kristen muttered. “I heard he was asking around about you. He hasn’t asked me anything yet but he asked Lila if you lived around here or if you travelled.” 
Y/N’s brows furrowed, meeting Harry’s in the mirror yet again. He rose a brow in return, narrowing his eyes at her with his smirk. “I don’t know why he’s asking other people that stuff when he can just ask me.” She replied, going back to filling her lips in with the lipstick. It irked her a little bit, she couldn’t lie. Y/N had tried to get more information on him but he’d sort of froze when she tried so she respected it and didn’t bring it up again. 
“Maybe it’s because when you both are together you’ve got each other’s tongues down your throats.” Her friend snickered, making Y/N kick her shin. That got her to stop, but it didn’t make it any less true. It was real, she feared. Every night, since they were in the same scare zone, it was like foreplay when they walked by each other. His hand brushing her back or her arm, whispering something dirty to her as he passed by, or vice versa. But still. 
At the end of the night, when Harry popped up out of nowhere while she cleaned her bag, she felt his hands grip her hips from behind. Her costume had been hung up on the rack, leaving her in athletic shorts and her tee shirt as his fingers dipped under the waistband, pulling her back into him and letting her feel his cock. It was in his jeans, his black tank top exposing his tattoos yet again as she looked at the hands feeling her up. “Heard you were asking around about me.” She said simply, allowing him to touch as she zipped up her bag. 
“I was.” Was his answer, lips brushing over the shell of her ear. “Pretty little princess is a bit of a mystery. I’ve found the answers to be satisfactory, though.” He sighed, making her skin flood with chills as he kissed the delicate skin right behind her ear. Y/N found it hard to think when he touched her like this but it was hard to pull away when his touch was something she craved. Even in her day to day before she went to work, she thought about his mouth and his hands, How he tasted. She had bruises from him and they were constant reminders. 
“What answers did you find?” She asked, leaning back in his hold and letting her ass rub against his length. His nose exhaled a harsher breath at the action, hands tightening on her as he groaned. 
“Well.. You live around here. You’ve got a cat. Work full time. Know your age, know you like banana taffy which, in my humble opinion, is vile. But I don’t know enough. I want to know more.” His deep voice was hypnotic, making her want to spill her life story to him, but looking in the mirror to see his face still painted made her pause. 
“I’m the mystery?” She laughed. “You don’t let anyone see your face. All I know about you is your name, your car, that you like ACDC, and you’re good in bed.” She huffed, turning around to face him. His contacts were out and the mossy green looked down at her, a grin lighting up his features as he replied. 
“Good in bed, aye?” 
“Harry.” She deadpanned, crossing her arms. “I’m serious. I don’t know much at all. Is this something you want to keep just here? Cause I’m a little confused why you’re asking around and wanting to know more when you’ve never let me see you without the makeup on before.” She could see him sober a little bit, body stiffening a little when he could tell she was serious. “It’s like you make it a point for no one to see your real face, which, it’s cool if that’s a boundary but I feel a bit at a disadvantage when you’ve seen all of me and I’ve barely seen any of you.” It felt a bit ridiculous to say, perhaps she was overreacting but it was something that she felt. She’d felt there was a bit of an imbalance.
Harry was quiet for a moment, releasing her from his grip as he ran a hand through his hair. He seemed to mull over it for a moment, making Y/N hope she didn’t upset him but it was a conversation they’d eventually have to have. 
“I’ve never done this before.” He finally mumbled back. “I like this job because it lets me escape the day to day. The stares I get normally, it's the stares I want. I don’t- I don’t want you to feel disadvantaged because of it.” Obviously that bothered him. His brows were furrowed and his stance stiff, which she felt slightly bad for but it was simply the truth. It confused her a little bit, but he continued. “I just like what I’ve got going on here, and I don’t want people to look at me differently or anything like that. As for you, for us… I don’t want to keep it just here, but it’s the excuse I’ve got to keep the makeup on.” 
Now she was very confused. Looking at him with it written on her face, she placed her hand on his arm for comfort as she tried to get his eyes to meet hers again. “What do you mean?” She asked gently, trying to approach the subject delicately. It was relieving to know he didn’t want to only keep it here, but it made her concerned to know something was holding him back from showing her his face. “You know, if you show me your face I’m not going to tell anyone else what you look like. If you want privacy, I respect that. It's not my secret or face to share.” Y/N hoped he would know that even in the short time they’d known each other. 
“No, I know- I don’t think you would. I just worry because-” He obviously didn’t like talking about it and it made him uncomfortable, as this was probably the most they’d talked without slipping into something sexual, but he seemed to take her concern seriously. “I worry that you’re going to see me without the makeup and be repulsed or something. All of my exes, well both of them, they said they were okay with me and then it got too much when people stared at me and- fuck, okay….” He groaned, taking a deep breath. “I’ve got a massive scar going down the side of my face. Goes through my eyebrow, over my eyelid and down my cheek. Some skin is fucked up on the side too, s’textured- I was in an accident when I was younger and it fucked it all up.” He breathed, making Y/N’s heart ache. Once he started talking though, he was going and she didn’t want to interrupt, so she just slipped her hand down to hold his and nodded for him to continue. “I’ve grown up being called all sorts of shit and a monster- hell, even coming here to audition, they thought I was in some special effects shit. They were mortified when I told them it was just my face after they said they’d want to make it more gory, but… I come here in my makeup and no one sees the scar. They just see me and they think I’m attractive, and even if it's a little weird, I can anticipate the staring cause it’s not my imperfection. It’s anticipated. Dunno if I’m running my mouth for a stupid reason, but-”
“No. It isn’t stupid.” Y/N said firmly. “First, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that, had to be hurt like that, and had people who hurt you because they’re cowards and can’t deal with people staring at you. That’s bullshit and it pisses me off.” She huffed, obviously irritated. “But I am not going to be repulsed or horrified. I like what I’ve seen of you this far, didn’t even think I’d hook up with anyone here if I’m honest, but you are extremely attractive, Harry. I’m positive that once the face paint comes off, that isn’t going to change. Scar or not. It’s how you carry yourself, how you talk. How you touch.” Her other arm lifted to wrap over his neck, pressing her body into his own. “If you aren’t ready to show me, you don’t have to. I won’t ever make you show yourself here either.” She motioned to the room around them. “ I understand, having an escape from that must be so nice but… I promise you, I’m not going to run away just because of a mark on your skin. I like you from what I know so far- even if it isn’t a lot.” Her voice was tender, trying to convey just how much she meant it. It could be such a good thing, at least in her opinion. They had incredible chemistry and got on and she wanted to see how far it could take them. 
Harry took a moment to absorb what she said, nodding hesitantly before he pulled her back into an embrace. It broke her heart to feel his shaky hand on her back. He didn’t seem to be afraid of anything but this, working in a place built for screams and monsters, his real face was his secret. Y/N didn’t like that people had made him feel ashamed over something he had no control over. “I-I do like you.” He said quietly, chin on top of her head. “I was even worried, y’know, for after the season was over because I like how I feel around you, but I’ve been scared t’show you. If you really want to see…” He was a bit braver with her face tucked into his neck, her fingers stroking the hair peeking from his beanie that covered his head. “I think it could be cool if you came over t’my house.” 
“Yeah?” Her face brightened and Harry swore right there that it would make it worth it. The underlying anxiety was still there but hell, Y/N hadn’t even blinked at the idea he maybe wasn’t as attractive as she thought underneath the makeup. “Okay! When?” Her body bounced in excitement and it made the pressure on his chest lift just a smidge. 
“Uh- tonight? If you want.” He offered. “Or tomorrow, I’m not like, super bus- I write from home as my other job, and I do on the side too- so I make my own schedule, it’s really up to you.”
“I’d love to come tonight.” The excitement was audible in her tone, the more she spoke the less he felt anxious. “Let me grab my bag. Uh, why don’t you text me your address.” She suggested, pushing some of his hair back. “I’ll follow you there but in case we get lost.” 
“Course.” He went to take out his phone but was interrupted by a pair of petal soft lips connecting with his, making him abandon his plans and inhale sharply as he reciprocated the soft kiss. His hand on the side of her neck, pulling her back in when she went to pull away and making her giggle. 
“There will be plenty of that once we get there. Let’s get this show on the road, yeah?”
—————
Harry’s place was cute. 
In a row of condos, his was at the end and she could see a fence hiding what must be a hard. Long rather than wide, she was impressed immediately as she pulled up behind his car. He had already arrived but waited patiently at his front door, seemingly already put his stuff away. 
Y/N wanted to coo at the decoration of the front porch of his place. There were a few carved pumpkins, a spider web, and purple and orange string lights hanging on the banisters. He obviously liked Halloween but she got her explanation when she started up the steps. 
“Got a niece and I watch her for my sister sometimes.” He began to satiate her ravenous curiosity. Y/N was dying for any bit of information about him. “We uh, we had a pumpkin carving night with her and my mum.” There wasn’t any embarrassment which she loved. The man in front of her seemed to love his family with no shame and that was attractive to her beyond belief, her wide smile pairing with her nod. 
“You get cuter the more I get to know about you.” Being openly flirtatious wasn't her norm, no, but she wanted Harry to actually see she liked him. She was sensitive to his insecurities and wanted it undeniable that she was into him, which wouldn’t be hard to prove. She really, really did. “Though I’m sad I missed out. I haven’t carved a pumpkin in years.” 
Not wanting to be presumptuous, her bag was left in her car but… she definitely did want to stay for a while. 
“That’s awful.” He clicked his tongue. “If I had a spare, I’d remedy that but… maybe another night.” The hint towards having more time with her away from the attraction made her heart soar if she was being honest, but she tried to hold composure so her smile didn’t look absolutely insane. 
“I’m holding you to that.” She controlled her grin as he stood up, opening the front door for her. Immediately she was greeted with a comforting home. It was the exact opposite of what she had expected as a bachelor living alone. Photos of what looked to be his family on the walls, the odd art piece, a hanging rack with his keys and a few beanies and a sweater. He had a wicker shoe rack and a woven red rug in the entryway, stairs immediately to the left and what looked to be a dining room to the side. 
“I’m sorry for a bit of a mess. I don’t really have people over much, so my dining room is my work space and… yeah. It’s got papers and shit.” He rubbed the back of her neck. “My office got small and I like to spread out.” It was a cute little quirk that she found to be fucking endearing. Seeing the neat stacks of paper and his laptop, what looked to be a light box? She wasn’t sure, but she thought she recognized it. He had a knit cardigan hanging off the back of a leather office chair on wheels, softening the look of it and making her wonder what he was like outside of work even more. He seemed to be… soft. 
The house smelled like apples and cinnamon and she saw a wax melter thing as they walked through and he led her towards the living room, a step down to the space from the kitchen. Hardwood covered in a few different rugs that should look bad but didn’t. They all fit somehow, even on top of one another. A soft looking couch and giant bean bag looking thing were there too, making her wonder which he preferred to sit in. 
“Can I get you something to drink?” He asked, standing with his hands behind his back. A slightly nervous thing he did. “I’m gonna go uh, take the makeup off.” It broke her heart to see his nerves come back like that. Her hand gently tugged on his arm, trying and succeeding to pull his hand into her own. 
“I’m fine for right now but, I just wanted to remind you that I do like you already. I want to get to know you, to see your face. Okay?” Her thumb brushed over the back of his hand, noting his knuckles were still split. He’d blamed it on the gym. “I know it’s still scary but believe me when I say that you aren’t going to scare me away, and I’m not going to tell everyone what you look like. You’re safe with me.” 
Her reassurance seemed to do a lot, his head falling from his stiff shoulders and looking at his feet as he sighed. Of course he was riddled with nerves. The one girl he actually liked had never seen him without his so-called mask, and he knew he could look jarring to people who weren’t prepared- but there was no use in wasting time. 
“Alright. I trust you.” Weirdly enough, he actually did. 
-
Hearing Harry’s return down the stairs, Y/N sat up a bit straighter. He’d been gone for about 10 minutes, 15 maybe. She tried to distract herself on her phone but it would be a lie to say that it worked. Her own nerves were acting out. Her biggest fear was reacting in a way he perceived as negative. He was trusting her with this, and she really didn’t want to fuck it up. 
Y/N had no idea what to expect besides a scar.  So seeing his face for the first time had really thrown her for a loop- because the scar held the least of her attention. 
Harry was hot. Handsome. Attractive. Every word you could use to describe a god of a man, that’s what she would use to identify him. 
His hair that was usually slicked back had been washed clean, damp waves falling slightly in his face. Paler skin than she had imagined, but it was still beautiful. His nose was on the bigger side like she preferred. His jaw and cheeks sharp, carved to perfection. If she could have compared him to anything it would be one of those Greek statues, or maybe what she had always imagined Apollo to look like. His skin was smooth and it looked soft, sans the slight stubble on his chin and around his mouth- she was familiar with that, though. So were her thighs. 
His eyes looked even greener like this, not hidden behind the elaborate makeup. His lashes were still slightly clumped together from the shower, and by the time he had hesitantly sat in front of her, she was itching to have the eyes look up and back into hers. 
The scar was noticeable, yes. It went down his face as he had previously described, the pinker skin with some puckering trailing down his left side. It made her heart hurt to know that this was the cause of his insecurities though, because honestly? In her opinion, it didn’t take away from his beauty. 
It wasn’t often that she would describe a man as beautiful, but he truly was. Her words escaped her for a moment, but as soon as she had a coherent thought, she took a breath. “Harry….” She began to reach a hand up before pausing. “Can I?” Motioning to his face. He hesitated before nodding, leaning forward. 
Her hands cupped both of his cheeks, looking over his face with a saccharine smile, feeling the heated skin under her fingertips as she traced over the raised skin. “You are absolutely fucking beautiful.” She mumbled. “Wow. You had nothing to worry about because… I’m a little shocked at how attractive you are. Knew you would be regardless but I'm kind of in awe of you.” She laughed, making him smile. She could feel it under her hands, pulling one away to make a discovery. 
“For fucks sake! You’ve got a dimple too?” She whined. “That’s unfair. You should get to choose between chiseled features and dimples.”
Harry was flushed, but he joined in her laughter. There was no part of it that felt inauthentic. A bit of him felt silly, actually, with seeing her react so well. He’d worked himself up, gotten so anxious and upset over the prospect of her seeing him and being horrified that he had almost denied himself of getting to know her deeper. 
“Yeah?” A shy tone tinged his voice making him want to cringe, but he truly was slightly shocked at how well she took it. 
“Yep.” She chirped, climbing into his lap, helping herself to him. His hands went around her body as she took a closer look at him, seemingly enjoying what she saw and it made him a little flustered. The look in her eye was of genuine desire and attraction, the same if not more intense from when she had flirted with him at work. It wasn’t a reaction he was used to- or one he really looked for. “Harry… can I be honest?” 
His stomach dropped to his feet, terrified for a mere moment before she continued at his jerking nod. “I think people stare at you because you’re fucking hot.” The blunt words were not at all what he expected, eyebrows shooting up at the opinion of hers. That’s… certainly not what he had thought she would say. “I’m serious. I’m kinda drooling over you. I have and do when you’re in your costume cause, duh, but you’re genuinely one of the most attractive people I’ve ever seen. And the scar…” her finger ran over it on his cheek. “It’s part of you. It’s attractive. To me, and I’m sure many others.” Her mouth turned downwards for a second. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to erase the trauma you had to endure from growing up with it. I’m positive people have bullied you and said horrific things. But I just think… more people probably find you attractive than you realize. And your ex girlfriends are absolute fucking morons, no offense.” 
The passion in her last statement had him sputtering out a laugh. She truly meant that! “I can’t say that’s the reaction I expected but, it’s better than I hoped.” He admitted, arms looped around her waist. Her eyes were drinking him in and admiring him, something he wasn’t used to. Maybe she was right about that, but he was used to and conditioned to believe his scar was ugly. Her approval wouldn’t necessarily fix that overnight but it definitely gave him a confidence boost. 
“I’m sorry I hid from you.” His voice was quiet, letting her explore his face. “I really… I really liked you and I was so scared that it would scare you off. I got in my head about it. I don’t like being known as the ‘scar guy’ when there’s a lot more to me but I knew that if people at work knew what I’d look like they’d see me as that.” Which, it was understandable. Y/N seemed to get it, nodding along in support. “I don’t think I’m ready to show my scar there. I kinda of like being someone else there, but…” he licked over his bottom lip. “I'd like for you to see the real me. If that’s something you’d still be interested in.” 
“Of course it is, Harry.” She insisted. “I’m only more into you now. Don’t get me wrong, your makeup is sexy and I love your persona there but… you’re right. There’s so much more to you that I’m dying to learn.” Her fingers pushed his damp curls from his eyes, exposing his face and tipping it up so she could brush her lips against his scarred cheek for a soft peck.  “So let’s start. Tell me who you are.”
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cherry-titz · 1 year ago
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Hi friends! @1800titz here. This is my contribution to the collaboration, and I’d like to start off by saying that I am so, so, so beyond excited to work with the immensely talented @cherryjuiceblues!! Thank you for working with me Soph :’)
We have loads of goodies planned, and we’d like to kick things off with Mr. Hitchhikerry. (Sidenote: he’s a little late to the party, this WAS supposed to be a spooky piece for Halloween but SHDJDJCJDJD don’t worry about it. Life got in the way a bit, but he’s finally HERE so WOOOO). A little idea based on this reddit post. This one has great big warnings. DARK HARRY. VERY DARK HARRY. With a piece like this, I want to really emphasize: this is purely for entertainment purposes, and there is 0 correlation intended to the real Harry Styles <3 just a spooky faceclaim.
With that disclaimer out of the way, here’s some content warnings: dom/sub themes, choking, (light) spanking, degradation (and praise!) ((some good ol’ LET’S PLAY SIMON SAYS)). THE WOOF WOOF is for humiliation purposes only <3 GREAT BIG WARNING FOR A DISTURBING CONFESSION OF INTENT TO HARM.
Also, I writhe in my seat as I write, wanting to put in lengthy context of prediscussion and safewords and aftercare and everything important I always talk about, BUT. You’ll see. He’s an …interesting character and I tried to keep hitchhikerry true to himself.
PLEASE DON’T HOOK UP WITH STRANGE MEN YOU PICK UP ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD AT NIGHT. PLEASE DON’T PICK UP STRANGE MEN ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD AT NIGHT. Enjoy ٩(◕‿◕)۶ (WC is 11K)
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She doesn’t do hitchhikers. 
Not figuratively, not literally. 
Y/N was raised outside of the scope of the seventies, post-Bundy and his hitchhiking antics, and since the evolution of serial-killer lore, she’s never been fond of a stranger hopping into her passenger seat and then cutting her up into itsy-bitsy parts to hang around his back garden like string-lights, or something. An ear there, a palm with crooked fingers there. Morbid stuff. 
Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers, but she doesn’t think about that, hurtling down some back-country road, a poorly lit vale through a field of tall, boundless grass. It’s not the first thought budding behind her skull when she sees his silhouette through the shone of her pearly brights — a blip by the line of tall shrubbery — even a good distance away. And from her distance, he’s just a little blip in a cream, hoodless sweatshirt, feet planted into a bed of patchy grass. Her first sane thought, as she squints through her windshield, has to do with why someone would be out on this road, at this time of night, with no feasible form of transportation, and how. As her Honda nears and passes some fork off, a dirt bend of clearing into the winding field of nature, the man’s hitchhiking, signature thumb morphs into a wave of his arms, and his foot steps out, toying at the edge of the road. It doesn’t quite breach the threshold, but her speedometer decreases enough for her to catch baggy denim, distressed at the knees, and a slow wave of his arms, raised. He doesn’t launch at her car, forlorn, as she passes — thank Christ. But even then, his frame swishes by, out of sight, coated by darkness. She casts her gaze to the rear-view, and the image of him scrubbing over his face with an exasperated palm shrinks in size the further she gets. 
The young woman gets about a hundred feet before she nudges the break with her foot to a halt, sighing as the car settles with a subtle lurch. She makes another glance to the rear-view. Now, she can’t see him, not in the shroud of night, but she squeezes her eyes shut for a second, and then twists the wheel until the car curves. A tire slips off onto gravel and grass with the U-turn, but she steers herself back onto the road and drives into the same direction she’s just come from. 
He looks surprised to see her reverse, form pivoted toward the same headlights that’d just passed him with a crease over his brow bone. Y/N slows and breaks as she nears, absent-mindedly pressing a fingertip over the lock button on her door. TV Girl is still playing quietly from her car speakers when she cracks the window, stopped beside him across the road, and beckons with her chin raised just enough for her cadence to seep through the opening, “Do you need help?” 
“Yes, yeah, I—“ the man makes a quick glance towards the side of the road where vehicles would be incoming, a sharp turn of his chin, and then a step towards her parted window as Y/N twists over the volume toggle. “I just— my car broke down,” he raises an arm and points towards the dirt clearing that slips into the field, “I was coming this way, and my phone’s died—“ 
He pauses, shaking his head down at his converse, his voice a baritone croon with charming, foreign dialect, “I know this is so odd, and you probably don’t want a stranger in your car. But f’you could just order an uber or something, I could give you the cash for it?” the girl watches his ring-clad palm disappear into the front pocket of his denim hastily, only to retrieve a wallet, “—If that’s alright?” 
Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers. 
And still, her pupils rove over the charming stranger, trailing from his soft dark curls, swiping over his lashes as his head ducks, down the slope of his nose, to the cushiony pink of his lips. Irises graze down his neck and catch a white tee under the collar of his cream pull-over, and they brush down his denim, to his battered, white converse. The young woman watches his hand stretch out, cautiously, a wad of neatly folded cash cupped by pads of fingers with short, yellow-lacquered nails. 
“No, don’t— …I can give you a ride,” Y/N tells him, her tone soft as her gaze wanders over his frame. 
A downward shift plucks at the corner of his plush mouth and his jaw flexes, a hesitant look shaping over his features, “It’s— I couldn’t— s’like a thirty minute drive, and I don’t wanna take you out of the way…”  
His large hand is still stretched out toward her, and she admires the cross inked over the back of his hand, on the fleshy area between his thumb and forefinger. Her brows pinch together, and the window whirs as the glass partition sinks. The girl raises her hand and points back with her thumb. 
“Are you going in that direction?” 
Wordlessly, the attractive stranger nods — a single dip of his chin. 
“I’m going that way, too. I can give you a lift.” 
Another look of hesitancy flits over the curly-haired stranger’s face, a soft, dubious touch to his facial features. He purses his strawberry mouth. 
“If you’re sure.” 
Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers. 
And still, she slips her hand over the unlock button, and the doors click to signal unshuttering as the man culls his wallet and stuffs the cash back in, sticking that back into his jeans. She watches him wind around her car, his gait trailing behind, and her eyes follow his side profile, bathed in the red of the brake lights, through the rear-view. The passenger door slips open. She rolls her window the rest of the way up. 
“Thank you,” the man tells her in his low baritone, raking fingers through his curls as he slides into the seat beside her and shuts the door. 
He smells heady and fresh — expensive. But it’s not overpowering, by any means. A blend of tantalizing notes; cologne blotted in increments that mesh well with his natural musk. The pleasant scent is the first thing she notices when he climbs into her vehicle. The second is the sculpt of his side profile — lengthy lashes over the crest of his cheekbones, his nose, a plush, pink mouth, a stray curl splayed over his forehead. He’s a little older than her, at least by a handful of years; there’s this innate, aged quality to him, and she can witness it in the shape of his features, in the soft dusting of stubble over his jawline. Y/N catches glimpses of his side profile discretely as the music track shifts, eyeing the bob of his Adam's apple as he cranes his neck back against the headrest. The screen over the center console reads 1:02 AM. 
“Long night?” 
It’s a shit attempt at small talk, but the young woman turns the wheel in her palms, hopeful that the man is interested in something more than an awkward silence, sparsely filled with the mellow keys of electronic-indie leaking from the speakers. She heard him expel a breath more than she sees it in her peripherals, and as the car embarks on another U-turn, he tells her, with laughter suffusing his cadence, “Yeah. Yeah, s’been a long night.”
She does make out that he pivots a bit towards her, and his tone is earnest when he says, “But it’d be a little longer without you, I think. Thank you, again. Feels like I can’t say it enough.” 
Her mouth quirks softly. The young woman keeps a haphazard left hand on the wheel, vision bouncing from the poorly illuminated road ahead and the phone in the cupholder. The LED display lights alive as she swipes her thumb over the lockscreen and toggles onto the maps app, cueing him by nudging the electronic in his direction. 
“Um. If you could just type in the directions— I’m sort of shit in these parts, to be honest.” 
She casts a brief gaze toward him and sees a soft divot pinch into his cheek as the corners of his mouth crook up. His fingertips, warm and rough — calloused — brush over the back of her hand with the handoff, and then his thumbs are working over the screen before an address and a winding blue line of directions with an eta of thirty-four minutes teems the screen. 
“Hi, by the way,” the man says in his honey-smooth cadence, “My name’s Harry.” 
“Hi,” Y/N grins, shooting a bashful glance into the attractive stranger — Harry’s — direction, before fixing her irises up ahead. “I’m Y/N.” 
“Y/N,” the man parrots — God. She could listen to him drone on about the most monotonous topics in that voice. He doesn’t. Instead, he uses that same timbre again to say, “S’a pretty name.” And she has to ignore the flurry of butterflies that swarm her innards at the entirely innocuous compliment and the heat that suffuses her cheeks. “Are you from around here?” 
“Ish. Sort of,” she slows at a curve through the field. Her brows pinch, “I mean, I’ve lived here for a bit now, but I moved from Oregon.” 
“Oregon? That’s sick. Any particular motive?” 
Y/N lifts a subtle shoulder, because there isn’t. She pauses before she answers. “Dunno. Just needed a change of scenery.” 
Harry twists the ring over his pinky and nods down at the motion, lips pursed with intrigue, “Adventurous.”
The young woman’s mouth crooks, because he’s, evidently, from the opposite hemisphere.  
“That’s admirable,” the man motions with his chin. 
Her mouth is still smiley when she rounds another curve, in the opposite direction, and mirrors his dialogue, “What about you? Any motive?” 
“My motive?” his inflection is cheeky and playful, “You don’t think I’m a native?” 
The girl makes a wry sound of amusement; an obvious inclination of disagreement. The handsome man grins, all raspberry-tinted lips and friendly teeth. “Just …visited, and never wanted to leave,” he declares with little expansion on the topic. Simple, short, sufficing. 
There’s a little moment of lull between them when she straightens the car out and the track slips into the chorus. 
Harry shifts in the passenger seat and asks, in that same deep timbre she could sink into and drown in, “Where are you headed from?” 
Where is she headed from? Y/N blinks at the road ahead, digits flexing over the steering wheel. Truth be told, it’s a late hour to be out and about, especially in this deserted neck of the woods. Every cozy little farmhouse in these plains, distant beyond the fields of grass, has lights off. No other car passes. 
“I was on a …date,” the young woman tells him. 
Harry nods and swivels in his seat to face her a bit. “Good date?” 
Y/N pauses, the fragments of the story rolling around behind her skull. And truth be told, …it wasn’t a very good date. But it wasn’t a date to begin with. In all honesty, she’s not about to tell this attractive stranger that she’d driven forty minutes for a routine hook-up with an old tinder match, only to be stood up outside his door. 
He was a character whose path happened to cross with hers for purely carnal purposes, and their flings were like rolls through seasons, rendezvous blotted into her timeline where either had a smidge to make room. She’s not going to talk about that. It’s piteous, basically. The young woman doesn’t risk side-eyeing him. This man seems like he’s well off in that department, and she doesn’t want to discuss her shit intimate life and the way that Cody decided, last minute, that he was more interested in going out for miller lites with his buddies than entertaining the idea of sleeping with her. 
He didn’t even have that impressive of dick game anyways — that’s the brutal candor. It wasn’t that he had this particular lack of satisfaction guarantee, but the sex was okay. It didn’t tick all the boxes or leave her fulfilled, not in the real sense, but it was sex, and it was decent. Maybe the most brutal part is the way she’d driven all the way to see him, even knowing that the sex wasn’t going to be top notch. 
Apparently, her silence stretches too long, and the pause gives away the answer she mulls tactics over hiding. 
“Bad date,” the girl hears from beside her — it’s in this thoughtful sort of way, like Harry’s slotting puzzle pieces together in the lull.   
Y/N shifts her fingers over the wheel, the sound of skin sliding over leather meshing with the starting notes of a Cage the Elephant track. Her thumb toggles over a button on the wheel. She skips it. 
“No,” the girl responds, eventually, but she doesn’t even sound fully convincing to her own ears. There’s this high note to her cadence, and she hears it in her own waver of honesty. She wants to cringe up, a little, at the sound. “Not …bad. Just. Well, you know. What about you?” 
For the first time since she’d gotten back onto the road, Y/N casts her gaze to him. A glimpse, a twist of her chin, enough to take in his side-profile for a smidge of a second, more in a way to incite switching the topic and pivoting the point of conversation than the inconspicuous stare she’d made appreciating his features. The corner of his plush mouth curves up, and he makes a little sound; a puff of air through his nostrils like he’s bridling mirth. 
“Was my date bad?” Harry says, in this playful sort of way. Like he’s teasing her. 
“No— your— whatever you—” 
Y/N huffs. She rolls her shoulders back against the seat, a heat teeming over her cheeks. Why was she so nervous? Why did he make her so nervous? Harry makes another sound of amusement, the cushion of his lips unsealing to display straight white teeth. 
“I was at a friend’s,” Harry expands, opting to stop drawing out the teasing, enough for Y/N’s shoulders (that’d grown rigid) to relax a little against the seat. “Was actually having a good night, believe it or not. And then, you know.” 
Unfortunately, she does know. He’s sitting in her car, after all. 
“Do you know what went wrong with it?” she ponders. 
“Well,” Harry the pads of his fingers over the door, and it takes every fiber in her not to sneak a glance at the motion, not to admire the yellow polish, washed with darkness, dim in the car, “the check engine light was on for a bit, to be honest. But— no,” the man pauses with a little simper, shooting her a glance, “Cars aren’t my specialty.” 
They talk about loads of things — she learns all about his friends and the sort of outing they’d had (game night it’d been, Uno, and he’d beckoned her opinion on a debate that’d arisen — whether a draw four could be stacked onto a draw two). That had spawned another conversation on card games —
(“Is it like Go Fish, then?” 
“No,” she snorts, “not at all.” 
“Not at all?” 
“There’s a board and it’s— more complicated.” 
“There’s a board,” Harry parrots, shifting with his elbow brace on the center console like an armrest, “And it’s just, like. Cards, like, in a deck of cards?” 
“You’ve never played cribbage?” Y/N repeats in disbelief.)
She learns about his job, and his cat, and his collection of vintage vinyls. He’s amiable, and he answers every question she directs his way with this smooth sort of charm. He’s easy to talk to, and the span of the drive cuts shorter and shorter through intriguing conversation. But she leads the way for the majority of the inquiries. 
It’s not until they’re at the halfway mark before he asks his own, rather than redirecting one of hers. 
“Can I ask you something?” Harry drums his fingertips over the plush of his mouth, and Y/N struggles to fix her eyes back onto the road once she’s spared him a glance. 
It takes her a second to hum out an agreement, too. 
“It was a bad date, wasn’t it?” 
The girl expels a breath and drums her fingers over the wheel, casting her gaze onto the screen of directions. 
“It wasn’t even a date,” she confesses, “he was like—“ she blinks, lashes fluttering as exasperation at the reminder leaks through, “A tinder hook up, and we didn’t even end up hooking up.” 
Before he can interject, Y/N tacks on, begrudged, “He wanted to hit the bars with his posse of Mag-con wannabes, instead.”
And then there’s this sort of pause that has Y/N thinking that maybe she’s overshared. The man with the sun-polished nails isn’t an old friend she’s having a gab with, catching up on the phone — he’s a stray man she’s plucked up off some deserted road, and if he judged her for her choices, it’d kind of be justified. Namely, the one where she’d driven out in the middle of the night for impromptu cock. 
And anyways, this all feels a bit surreal — the beginnings of a therapy session with a stranger who’d hopped into her sedan for a lift, filling the void of a psychologist in a great, big leather armchair.  
Except Harry sounds earnestly disbelieving when he says, “You’re kidding.” 
She purses her mouth and readjusts her fingers over the steering wheel. “He sort of …canceled when I was already at his door? Forgot to text me that the plans changed. That’s what he said.” 
“What a dickhead.” 
“Mm,” Y/N hums. 
“He’s a moron for passing up the opportunity,” Harry tells her. It’s not in an awkward way, or anything creepy, either. He’s got this air to him, she finds — an ability to make a comment like with effortless delivery of charm. He’s not even looking at her when he says it, only risking her a brief glance that she catches in her peripherals. She still side-eyes him from her seat in surprise, the edges of her mouth curling up bashfully. 
“M’serious,” Harry says, dimples pinching into place beside the upturned-curl of his plush mouth. 
And the thing is, Harry is so friendly. He’s kind, and interesting, and despite the way Y/N had assumed allowing for his presence in her car would be the world’s greatest chore, she’s pleased to be in his company. 
That’s why she lifts a wry shoulder and tells him, “The sex was bad anyways.” 
The man’s face pivots to face her, then. “Yeah?” he coaxes for expansion in his molasses-slow croon of a timbre. 
“It was just a little boring.”
“Boring?” 
“Not— maybe not boring. Just, you know. There was nothing…” Y/N drums digits over the steering wheel, “I don’t know.”
The man beside her clears his throat. 
“Was he a missionary in the dark type of bloke, then?” 
“Yes,” she responds, almost instantly. Because missionary in the dark is, perhaps, the best way to describe Cody’s sexual nature. Down to the T, practically. She can’t fathom how many times she’d lay there, hoping he’d switch up into something different, something where his hands weren’t resting shallowly on the bed sheets beside her shoulders, something where his face wasn’t tucked into the crook of her neck, his mouth biting back everything but soft hisses of air as his hips rocked at an mediocrely slow pace. 
Harry’s mouth quirks. 
“But not even that, it’s like. He wasn’t bad at foreplay, or anything. It wasn’t the best. But, you know. It was all sort of… plain.” 
The young woman pauses before she continues with an apathetic, one-shouldered shrug, “And there’s nothing wrong with plain. It gets the job done, and, you know. That’s what some people like.” 
There’s a shift in energy, from there. It’s subtle, but Y/N can feel it, and she wonders whether the morph is a one-sided experience. It happens with the honesty of the context, with the way she swears jade winds over her figure from beside, with the rasp of his voice beckoning something playful. 
“But that’s not what you like.” 
Y/N takes a second to answer. “No.” 
“What do you like?” 
Maybe that phrase is where it hits her. Where she recognizes that the subtle shift in energy is not one-sided. Not by any means.
Y/N risks a haphazard glance into his direction. 
“Not …that,” the girl laughs. It’s a nervous, giggly kind of sound, but it’s not because of him.  
It’s different now, she thinks. He’d been so timid at first — all bashful gazes through lashes glimmering under the beam of headlights, hesitancy shaping his features. Friendly dialogue — alluring, but curt in anything beyond friendly. This is different. This is blunt and forward. This is his eyes raking over her, this is his tongue swiping out over the plush of his pink mouth, this is his dimples peeking as the corners edge up.
“What do you like?” Harry asks again, a note of flirty, lighthearted amusement to his smooth cadence.  
Y/N sighs, the corners of her mouth tipping up. “I don’t know. Oh my God. Why are you interrogating me?”
Harry laughs. His brows rise, and he tips his chin down so the green sparkles at her. “You don’t know what you like?” 
“I don’t know,” she huffs, good natured. And then she gives. “Something… rough. Something exciting. I don’t know, pull my hair, make it hurt a little. Don’t… lay there in the dark and…” her speech morphs into giggles, “Groan into my ear about how tight I am while I’m laying there like a dead fish.”
Y/N doesn’t know how she ends up pulled over in some deserted parking lot. She doesn’t know how her headlights end up off, how the stranger’s hands sew into her hair, how his lips mesh softly with hers, hungrily. Well. She does know, but she doesn’t care about the details in between. Because he’s hot, and he tastes of mint, and the tips of his fingers press into her scalp and tug a little when they brush through, when he slips a palm over the nape of her neck through the work of his cushiony mouth. It’s thrilling, and it’s sexy, and it’s dangerous, she thinks, but that thought becomes clouded and pushed back to the dells of her mind. 
“Such a pretty little thing,” Harry murmurs when they disconnect, fingers splaying over her cheeks. Her heart hammers in her chest, and his irises trail after the motion of his thumb, bumpily dragging over the side of her lips, all the way to her cupid's bow. That same pad of his thumb pauses and tugs, drawing her bottom lip down to show the slightly parted seal of her teeth. 
And then he’s taking his thumb away and nudging the tips of his index and middle finger, coaxing, “Open your mouth, open your mouth.” 
The pads of his digits meet the tip of her tongue and prod in, brushing over her taste buds, until he’s tapping onto the center of the muscle and crooning, “Stick it out. Tongue out for me.” 
A little hum escapes her, plucking at her vocal chords when she complies, only for him to trace further with his fingertips and nudge until he strokes the back. He holds them there and makes a little motion with his chin and a soft tut when her irises stay pinned on him, glazing with a sheen of watery protest at the depth of the intrusion. 
“Ah— don’t you gag,” he tells her softly, every syllable of every word coated with these notes of dominance that almost seem …innate — like the headspace is a pair of shoes for him to slip into with ease. 
It’s filthy, it’s so filthy — this stranger’s fingers in her mouth, this man she’s never seen a day in her life, a complete, nameless stranger, not even an hour prior, prodding into the warm wetness behind her lips. And her, following his aimless direction, just to please him. She doesn’t gag through the way his fingers crook, her tongue twitching and her throat bobbing, her sight growing blurry with the coating of sheen. It’s worth it, immensely, when Harry hisses out a soft curse and groans softly, his brows pinched. 
It’s worth it when he takes his fingers away, and Y/N’s jaw is coated with her drool, when her tongue is still out, when Harry says, in this soft, strained voice, like it’s praise, “Christ, you’re a filthy thing.” 
She finds that this impromptu rendezvous sort of gives her whiplash. She’s parked in some empty parking lot with her lights off, and an alluring stranger’s just untucked his fingers from her mouth. Maybe someone would deem this a new low — having a shag with some hitchhiker she’s scooped off the side of a back-country road. But he’s eyeing her like she’s prey, and he rolls from one action like pages flitting and flipping in a book, and every detail keeps her on her toes. She can’t keep up. Y/N pants wetly, like she’s not sure whether to slip her tongue back into her strawberry mouth, because she’s not. 
Not until he swipes another thumb over the tip of the lax, twitching muscle and beckons, like he’s a little amused, “Aren’t you?” 
Slowly, her tongue retreats, and that’s when his hand slips and cups over her throat, and that’s—
Her pulse thunders like it’s straining to beat out from below her skin, and Harry adjusts his grip, that same, wet thumb drawing short, slow lines over the point like he wants to test the race of her heart, like he wants to know that the pattern has skyrocketed since his palm has made homage over her windpipe. The man hums, pupils trailing and lingering slowly. 
“Tell me—“ Y/N shifts in her seat, spine straightening out against the cushion, and something wracks down every individual knob when his blown gaze pins her the same way his palm pins over her neck, “Tell me you’re my filthy plaything.” 
The press of his hand isn’t harsh by any extent, not until she parts her lips to answer — that’s when he nudges a little firmer. A little harder. He cocks his head at her in this condescending way — like her stifled sound of surprise entertains him, like the subtle, almost unnoticeable jolt of her eyelids, widening, pleases him. Judging by the slight quirk at the edges of Harry’s plush mouth, it does. 
Her tummy coils with unanticipated desire. This feels almost scary. This feels like traipsing over a rope, like teetering over dangerous territory, and the sudden spike of adrenaline only has her thighs clenching together harder. Because this is sweet Harry, the friendly hitchhiker, in his cream sweater with his nice smile, and his charming dimples, and his loose, clean curls, with his warm palm cupped over her throat and the pad of his thumb digging into her pulse. He looks fucking hungry. 
“I’m—“ her statement’s muzzled by the press of his hand, an increase in only a slight increment. It’s enough to wrest a garbled sound from the back of her throat. He tips his head. 
“What’s that?” 
“I’m your…” she pauses when he presses harder, again, and this time’s enough to have her feeling lightheaded, her bleary eyes wandering over his face and every muscle of her face battling the light flutter of her lashes. She thinks a dimple peeks from his cheek. Harry lets up.
Y/N siphons breaths like her lungs have been deprived for ages, and not just partly for the timespan of a short fifteen seconds. Still, his palm is glued over the front of her neck — just there. His thumb strokes over her pulse gently. 
“I’m your …filthy plaything,” the young woman confesses in this pathetic little voice that’d have her ashamed in every other setting. But in this one, it doesn’t. 
Arousal creeps through every fiber of being, instead, crawling through her arteries and settling into her veins like a twisted, dark goo. It thrums through her and sinks through to the trench of her tummy, frothing as chills teem down her back. He’s got this glint in his eye, like a dance around a bonfire in the deep of the night — but it’s just a stray street light that casts its shone as a spotlight when he ducks forward a tad, just enough for it to. When he tips forward, his gaze growing half-lidded, lower and lower the closer he gets, it feels like he starts to siphon every breath from her own mouth as his cushiony lips ghost over her cupid’s bow. Even for the smidge of the second it takes for their mouths to mesh again, it feels like the movement is in ultra slow motion. 
The mold of their mouths together, this time, feels a lot less like she’s got her hands on the wheel — the first time had been almost testing, sweet — something soft that’d shifted into something headier, something firmer. This feels like something he guides, something he takes the clear lead in, from the pace of his hungry lips to the exploratory nudge of his tongue against the seam of her own mouth. Her fingers flex over the center console aimlessly, palm straying, and fingertips catching on a part of his cotton sweatshirt. They twist into the fabric softly when Harry’s tongue strokes over her own. A hand settles onto her thigh. It’s not her own.
“Get in the backseat,” he hums into her open mouth, squeezing over her flesh when she doesn’t immediately comply. He’s got this way of dulling her reflexes, crumbling the semblance of her mind to mush, and Y/N is convinced it has more to do with his touch than it has with the time of night, despite the way exhaustion wears at her tired muscles. “Get in the fuckin’ backseat.” 
When her arms strays and she reaches for the door handle, though, he squeezes at her thigh again, and hums out a displeased note of disagreement. “Not like that.” 
Bemused, Y/N shifts in her seat. A glint of something playful glows in the jade when Harry tells her, “You can find another way, can’t you, pet? Go on.” 
Y/N sits in confused silence for all of three seconds before the man sits back a tad and cocks his head, irises flashing towards the backseat with a playful, little grin quirking at his lips. Like he’s suggesting. 
It takes her longer than three seconds to clamber into the back from the driver’s seat, through the slot over the center console, but it satisfies Harry, evidently, judging by the way he palms over the globes of her backside through her stretchy mini-skirt. It’s not very graceful, and if she was less aroused she’d probably find it in her somewhere to be a bit embarrassed, but. She doesn’t. She wriggles over the cushion, instead, settling back. 
Harry has smarter ideas. He toggles the gear on the side of the passenger seat and sets the whole top of it back, like a makeshift day-bed, and scoots into the back of the sedan through the opening. And there’s not much leg room — not for the two of them, not with the whole back of the seat splayed — and there’s not much room for their heads, either, but they manage to squeeze back, and he’s gripping onto her shoulders and twisting her on his own whim before the young woman has a chance to shift around, herself. 
“Get—“ the way Harry manhandles her with a grip on her hips, (once he’s got her slumped, at least somewhat) — with ease, like he’s flipping a page in a book rather than rearranging her whole position in the cramped space of a sedan backseat — that lights something fiery in the pit of her belly. “Hands and knees, baby,” Harry tells her, grunting softly while her limbs scrabble over the pleather. He pulls her back into him, by the hips as she’s physically molded into it, parroting, quieter, “hands and knees.” 
“Itsy bitsy skirt… so easy to just—” Harry hums, this sort of mischief to his cadence — and it becomes blatantly obvious, the reason for it, when his digits creep under, from behind, and his colossal palms hitch it up, “Oops.” 
She’s wearing tights under it. They’re not the fleece-lined kind, despite the bite of chill in the air outside, but they are there, and Harry spans the pads of his fingers over the barrier like he doesn’t have plans to discard them the practical way. 
He doesn’t. The man stripes a fingertip down her core, from behind, over the fabric and the faint hue of cheeky purple that peeks through, and makes this devious sound of mirth when her whole body twitches. And then he draws the same fingertip back up, in the same line, and nudges a bit. 
“What am I gonna do with you?” Harry coos. The third, slow drag has her arching her hips back. “Hm? What am I gonna do?” He takes almost a thoughtful second, tongue peeking out to swipe out over the cushion of his pink bottom lip, before Harry splays his palms over her bum, “Pretty girl… pretty arse…”
And it’s so calm — he’s so calm, so casual, so nonchalant — Y/N doesn’t even sense it coming until he sighs, and then he’s digging the tips of his digits into the nylon, stretching it from her core, and just tearing. Casually. Nonchalantly. The sound of fabric ripping apart coaxes her jaw to slip open, and her pupils stick to the inside of the door, unblinking, as he just tears, and tears, and tears. 
And she’s not even upset, is the thing. She’s not irritated that this stranger’s just torn the crotch of her tights apart — she can’t be, not when he hums devilishly and strokes over her core, a layer closer. Maybe that’s pitiful. Maybe that’s sad, that she’s so fucking horny that she doesn’t care that her tights have been split open with no prior discourse on the topic, but this direction of impulse — the way she’s not even able to try and guess his next move, it kindles something hot and hungry. 
And if she ever has Cody to thank for anything, Y/N thinks maybe it’d be that he’d inspired her to shave and slip on a pair of decently attractive underthings. 
“These are pretty, too,” Harry tells her, thumbing at the crotch of the thong, just over one side. The young woman gives this dreamy little sigh and arches back up into him further. “What d’you want, sweetheart? Want me to give some attention …here—“
Her spine jolts when he nudges the pad of his index right up against her clit, lightly, over the purple fabric, “Maybe? Is that it? Eager girl.”
He draws a featherlight circle over it, and then another, and another until her thighs are trembling. The tip of his digit taps. She nudges back, and he takes it away altogether. An amused sound slips from his mouth.  
“Say please,” Harry demands. 
Y/N jumps as his fingertips trail to her inner thigh, crooking and tickling in the line they draw. 
“Please.” 
Again, he makes a disapproving tut, and Y/N rolls her cheek onto on a forearm, tucked over the seat. 
His eyebrows climb up his forehead, and his fingertips drift up and down the back of her thigh, drawing closer and closer where she needs him most with every lap. Each word is covered with notes of firm dominance. “Not like that. Like you mean it — like you’re pleading.”
Y/N mulls over the words, her heart thundering. 
“How d’you beg?” 
It takes a second for his words to sink in, but then when they do, she croons out, softer, more desperate, “Please.” 
There’s a soft sound of a breath being expelled, the seat crinkling quietly as, she assumes, Harry sits back on his haunches, head ducked. Like it’s not good enough. Her tongue traces out over her lips and she beckons, “Please, please,” each plea prompting a spiral of unfamiliar humiliation — glazed with arousal — to unfurl. 
“Please, please, please—“ each word emphasized with a rock back of her hips. And finally, he touches her. 
His palm cradles a cheek, and he doesn’t sound even slightly impressed. Instead, his voice comes out exasperated when he tells her, “That’s not convincing. You’re desperate. You want something — you need it, you’re pleading.”
“Please— please—“
“Louder,” he scoffs, “Beg. Beg.” 
“Please,” she tries, desperation creasing her voice strained on the syllable, and Harry drags fingertips, airy, across her inner thigh, from bottom to top. “Please, please, please—“
And finally, something clicks. Something slots together, at some point, when she ditches the inhibitions and her cadence starts to border on a delirious sort of desperation. Finally, something works. 
“That’s better,” Harry says softly, swiping his thumb over her clit, “Much better.” 
She doesn’t pick up on that, though, and she’s still begging, pleading, quietly. Quieter, quieter, quieter — the words growing more sparse the longer he spends time honing on her clit, the firmer his touch becomes. 
“Good girl,” Harry coos, his fingertips latching up under the hem at the crotch of her panties, before he tugs, “Good girl. You ask nicely, and I’ll give it to you. S’that easy.”  
He slips a thumb against her gushing entrance and drags it down, tracing careful shapes over the bud of nerves, before he tugs down on the hood and emphasizes on the new exposure by reigniting the touch with the thumb on his opposite hand. Two hand task — very dedicated. 
“S’this all for me?” the man teases, pinching her clit, lightly, between the pad of his thumb and the side of his index. He sounds a little self-satisfied when he declares, quietly, “I’m flattered.” 
Her lips part as a silent, breathy moan wrests from the back of her throat. It happens when the pad of his long middle digit prods at her entrance and nudges in. The thumb on his other hand sweeps, side to side, over where she’d most sensitive, and he stuffs into her further. And they are lengthy — his fingers. She’d seen them drumming over the center console, and smush over the raspberry tint of his lips, felt them coat her tongue, and felt them press against her throat. They can reach further than her own, crooking against her spongy walls, curling when he adds a second before straightening out and scissoring for the stretch. 
“Christ, you’re gushing,” Harry says, and as if on cue, the pornographic squelch of his fingers working crowds the cramped space, “Jesus— d’you hear that?” 
Y/N buries her face in her arms to muzzle the little sounds of bliss that he pries from her mouth. It’s not until he’s proper fucking into her with his digits, the pad of his thumb dragging tight, little circles over her clit, that those sounds escape her. And when they start, they pour in a flood. Because he works so expertly, so deftly — from the pace, to the angle, to the way he hones on her clit with his other hand, and the filthy dialogue he spews in his honey-smooth baritone. It’s everything, everything, and it prompts the coil in her belly to circle and squeeze, tighter, tighter — a telltale prior to its inevitable snap. She clenches over his fingers helplessly.
But then he just— stops. 
The nudge of his digits skirts to a stand-still within her, and his thumb stops drawing circles, and Y/N just squeezes over him like a silent plea. He makes this sound — this mirthy, deviously pleased hum, like her displeasure at his pause amuses him. It’s pure sadism. 
It’s not until she rocks her hips a bit, a shallow, desperate kind of back and forth, that the amusement seems to slip from his tone. 
“Don’t—“ Harry tuts sharply, taking his thumb off her clit altogether to grip at her hip harshly, “Stay still. Naughty, little minx.”
And she does. She stays still when his voice gets hard like that. There’s a bit of quiet between his snap and the subtle freeze-up of her rocking. Soft breaths sew through the lull, but then he talks again, his tone a little nicer. 
“We’re gonna play a little game, yeah?” 
That’s …intriguing. Y/N shifts over the cushion. His grasp over her hip has softened considerably, but there’s still this humiliating heat that swarms her face at the fact that the crotch of her panties is still tucked against her skin, that everything’s out in the open, that Harry’s practically ogling in lieu of touching her. 
“It’s a bit like Simon Says. Except, when you play Simon Says, you hesitate a little, right?”
The man’s thumb presses back to her clit, and she buries her face in her folded arms. 
“And I don’t want you to hesitate. I’ll tell you something to do, and—“ 
His fingers sink into her, and her shoulders grow tense from the bliss. Y/N muzzles her groan. 
“You’ll do it. Sounds easy enough?” 
It does. It’s easy enough instructions, and when Harry pats at the same hip he’d been clutching over and beckons, “Hands back here,” Y/N obliges easily enough. 
Her cheek presses to the cushion, cool against the warmth teeming beneath her skin, and she lets him manhandle and move her splayed fingers to his liking, arms stretched behind. 
“That’s good,” Harry croons in his low timbre, the warm, lewd praise of it drawing chills up the nape of her neck, “Now spread a bit for me.” 
Y/N does that, too. Her finger pads nudge and press into her flesh, coated with the tights, and her digits crook as the tips dig in to splay — to follow his direction, to please him. And it’s shameful, a pinch in her shoulders as her arms reach back, fingers twitchy, imprinting into her own backside with little divots as she opens herself up for him to do nothing. But his satisfied little hum sends an unfamiliar sense of accomplishment spiraling through her veins. The way his warm palm rests on and pets over the back of her thigh along with it feeds something new and starving. 
“Good girl. There you go. See? S’easy.” 
Y/N makes a little sound into the seat, and her fingers flex as Harry pumps his own digits, a steady rhythm of in and out, paired with a hum from him that sounds absolutely pornographic. 
“Such a good girl,” the man tells her, fingers crooking, but the praise isn’t enough to muffle the bemusement that wracks her when he says in this devious hush, “Let’s try another. Bark.” 
Bark. 
It takes a second for the command to register past the immediate threshold of the pleasure curling in her belly as he strokes at her spongy walls. And when it does click together, his word settling past the membrane of bliss, her initial thought is that she’s definitely misheard him. Because that’s …sort of a ludicrous request. The young woman sounds strewn between groggy and muzzled when she cranes her neck a bit over the cushion and beckons with a confused hum. 
“Bark,” Harry repeats, “like a dog.” Simple and nonchalant. 
Bark like a dog. She’s midway through creased brows, a strained raise of her head, and a baffled what, before the man stills his fingers and takes a grip over her wrist, sliding her hand away. 
And then he smacks her, hard, with his palm on one side, in the same place where her digits had dug in to spread herself open. 
It’s loud, and it stings, and it sends a shockwave through her nervous system, strong enough to have everything buzzing on alert as her forehead pastes to the seat and the parted gap of her mouth struggles to mute a gasp. Maybe the most surprising part is that the hurt feels good, that the sting morphs into something else as it fizzles and ebs, that the hammer of her heart spikes this famished, unfamiliar arousal coursing through her when he doesn’t even bother stroking over the bruised skin. It’s definitely hard enough to leave a ruddy mark under the tights, and Y/N blinks down at the faux leather, wordless and a little gobsmacked. 
And then Harry sighs in this way that’s so …disappointed. And the calmness of his inflection, grouped with the irony of the harsh hit… that has a chill climbing up her spine. 
“That’s not how you play the game, pet.”
He says it in this eerily nonchalant note of disdain, like he’s not just casually tattooed the shape of his hand onto her backside with a blow. Like he expected better. Like it’s a little mishap they’ll gloss over. She doesn’t even realize she’s still got a vice clamped over his fingers until he shifts the digits in her, coaxing her core to flutter around him. Harry sighs again. 
“Did you forget the rules, baby?” he asks, cadence soft and basked in condescension. The man strokes over the heated skin, the same spot where Y/N is sure a subtle welt has peaked to the surface below the thin veil of the sheer tights, “I tell you to do something and you do it, right?” 
Her knees are starting to ache a little, a soreness settling into the joints, but she doesn’t even mind it when his fingers pump again, slowly. 
“That’s how the game goes. Right? I need an answer.” 
She makes a soft sound. A little sound that’s not protest. A little sound that’s not outright agreement. It’s a whimper into a void, but everything about him and his touch lights something alive in her. And she wants more. She’s dizzy off of it when she manages out a breathless, “Yes.” It’s a short word that comes out in a breath, like she’d been holding the air in her lungs. 
Maybe that’s why she’s dizzy. 
“Are we on the same page? Let’s try again, then. Bark.” 
Y/N shifts over the seat. The hand he’d moved has splayed helplessly to her side, and the fingers curl and uncurl as the weight of the suggestion hits her. Because that’s— it’s humiliating. It’s demeaning, and it’s strange, and the fact that he demands it has the tips of a fire licking up at her insides. The young woman makes an uncharacteristically pathetic noise. 
Harry sighs. 
The split second of hesitation is enough, apparently, for another slap, just as hard, in the same spot. It has her rocking forward and clenching over his digits again. Harry’s quick to correct her posture with a hand on her hip, guiding her back in a way that lacks gentleness. 
“I said, bark.” 
This time his voice is harder. Meaner. Y/N gives. 
She gives because the tips of his fingers prod at this heavenly spot inside her, because her skin smarts in a way that has her practically drooling, because she’s dizzy, and hungry, and desperate. Her thighs are quivering when she gets out a half-hearted woof, her lips shaping over the word like the task is a chore to get out. 
“Better—“ another slap, aimed lower onto the back of her thigh, has her hips jutting and the straight line of her spine twisting up, “—but not what I’m looking for. Try again.” 
She doesn’t even aim to please, is the thing, when her yelp overlaps with another smack. But it morphs into something surprised and deliciously pained, and evidently, it’s enough, judging by the way his touch smooths over the stinging skin.
“Oh, baby,” Harry tells her, his fingers stroking like he’s smudging the pink-tinge of bruising, “That’s pathetic.” 
And it dawns on her then, that there’s no winning with this game. When he tuts and tells her, absolutely patronizingly, “So desperate for it, she’s barking like a stray.” 
It dawns on her that she doesn’t want to win. She doesn’t care, because his filthy dialogue, as demeaning as it is, just draws her wetter and closer. As if to highlight on it, Harry crooks his fingers and tacks on, “You’re leaking all over the seats, pet.” 
And she is, she’s sure. It’s a dirty game he plays, and she loves every part of it and more. It has her writhing when he draws circles over her clit, it has her aching for more when he guides her hand back to her backside with a squeeze and a wordless coax to keep spreading. 
“Gonna let me fuck you?” Harry pulls the digits out, dirtying what’s left of her tights and smearing sticky wetness over the back of her thigh, “Hm? Gonna let me—“ his belt clinks as he unbuckles it, and then comes the soft sound of a zipper, its teeth unlatching, “—fill you up?” 
“Glovebox,” Y/N mumbles, hips shifting back when he pets at her thigh. 
His pupils flit, sticking to the back of her head, before they jump back down to his handiwork. Harry’s tone sounds absent-minded and mirthy when he asks, “What’s that?” 
“There’s condoms in the glovebox,” she expands, a little louder than her prior murmur, bracing on her forearms to cast her gaze back at him over her shoulder. 
And he looks rugged in this boyish, youthful way, then, is the thing. The corner of his mouth jolts, lopsided, and a stray tendril has flopped over his forehead. His hands are on the undone buckle of his belt, and his fly’s down, and he sounds absolutely amused when he says, “Are there?” 
There are. 
“You’ve prepared for this, then, have you?” Harry sets a palm onto her hip, squeezing as a dimple pinches into his cheek, “Condoms in your glovebox …like a proper dirty whore?” 
Coyly, she blinks, cheek nuzzled to the seat, and she watches him stretch his arm out for the glovebox as he knees away. 
“I’m always prepared,” Y/N settles on, softly.
The glovebox slips open. There’s rummaging — his torso turns to face it entirely, and then he gleans a shining, golden little packet, tucked between the pads of his digits. The young woman wriggles her hips. There’s this glint of fiery …something. Something playful, something lewd, something hungry in the jade, when he clambers back over, steadying himself with a palm on her tailbone. It coaxes her spine into a pretty, sharper arch.
“You do this a lot, do you?” Harry teases, “Pick up strange men, let them fuck you?” 
She hums in agreement as the man takes the little gold square, snug between his teeth, fingers working quickly, pushing buttons through slots and tugging his cock out. 
“Maybe I do.” 
He tears at the wrapper with his teeth. She knows, because his next words come out a little muffled. 
“Is that right?” 
It’s not. It’s so out of the norm, so far from the usual, but Y/N would be a masochist to string out the arousal that’d built between her thighs in lieu of letting Harry span his palms over the globes of her ass in the backseat. Harry, with his cheeky smile and his sunshine, short-trimmed nails. Harry, with his denim-tethered bulge dragging over the back of her thigh and his filthy tongue shaping crude dialogue.  
She doesn’t see him as he tuts from behind, but she can picture it; his palm cupped over the base of his shaft as he rolls the condom over and then presses the tip against her teasingly. 
“Wanted to be fucked like a dirty whore, is that it?”
Her “yes” stretches and ebs and splinters into a whispery hiss when Harry nudges forward and stretches her out. And then he’s beckoning for her hands, one hand splayed over her hip and the opposite coaxing at her shoulder, tugging and jolting in gentle nudges, mouth shaping over firm, “Hands, hands, give me your hands — behind your back— that’s— just like that.” 
Barred from scratching at the seats with his firm, warm grip binding the joints hostage, Y/N presses her cheek to the cushion. She slumps into his willpower, gives into him, the smush of her face sweaty on the cushion, jolting with every rock forward. The young woman clenches over him helplessly. Soft sounds slip past her lips, pried out by the nudges of his hips, over and over, again and again. Her fingers stiffen and flex, and the arch in her spine shifts when the head of his cock bumps that delicious ridge so deep in her — and it’s like Harry senses it, the way her entire body grows taut like a string. He goes at that too, prodding, again and again, until a whine plucks at her vocal chords. Every shallow jolt of his hips sends waves of paralyzing bliss licking over her insides. Every nudge forward has her slumping more. And when he talks, Y/N barely registers it over the rush of blood in her own head. 
There’s been little things that fall from his mouth — soft curses and hisses as he slides in, hums and groans when he bottoms out, readjusting his grasp over her wrists. Words, though — now he’s saying words. They’re still in that gentle baritone, this sort of luring croon. 
“Come on, baby. Come on — got a stranger’s cock in your pretty, little pussy—“ Harry’s voice catches on a strained note as he pulls out—
…A sigh as he rocks back in, “—and …you’re not gonna struggle?” 
A warmth stems from his grasp, behind her back, and as if on reflex, her digits crook and flex. The danger of the words don’t even register. Because, yeah, he’s right. She’s got a stranger holding her restrained, rocking up against her, and all that peaks in her at the filthy dialogue is a bud of deranged arousal. She doesn’t shoulder forward though, doesn’t try to pull her hands apart, doesn’t sag forward, not even a little, too concerned that even a minute shift will alter the delicious intensity of the angle. 
“Not even a little bit?” Harry tuts, grinding forward, one more time, slow, and then he squeezes over her wrists hard and picks up in pace. Just until he settles into a hard tempo of short, deep thrusts, and her shoulders are aching from the way he pulls her arms back. 
His words blanket her with this patronizing sort of humiliation — the kind that has her spongy walls pulsing over his length and chills erupting from the nape of her neck to the creases between her shoulder blades. “You make it so easy.”
So easy for a stranger to fuck her — so easy, pulling over in some desolate parking lot. So easy, letting him wrap a palm over her throat and stick his fingers past her lips. So easy, following his every command for the reward of his hips pummeling against her own. 
And it’s easy to get close with the way he works into her, tip bumping into a spot that sends waves of pleasure coursing through every millimeter of her nervous system. The kind that has every muscle stiffening to stone until the wave ebs. It’s so easy to lurch higher and higher, closer and closer, when his touch digs into her joints, rendering her helpless to his crude affections. When strained grunts and sordid words fall from his mouth, when his other hand slips from her hip and knots into the hair, at the roots, on the back of her scalp, only smushing her cheek into the seat with more pressure. 
“Fuck,” Harry groans, the pace of his thrusts stuttering as he picks up the tempo into something merciless, his digits flexing into her hair and his body weight sagging onto her frame. 
Every time his balls slap against her clit, teasing where she wants that attention the most, she feels the spring draw tighter, lips smushed to and gaping against the seat. And then he readjusts his grip, lets one of her hands free while he keeps the other pinned, and he coaxes, “Touch your pretty clit, baby. Make yourself cum all over my cock.” 
Y/N makes it to the crest before he does. It’s her fingertips sloppily winding loose shapes over the bud of nerves, it’s his cock hammering down into her, it’s the pinch in her shoulder, and the way Harry’s grip grows harsher over the hand he still has pinned, the closer he gets himself. The way his digits are still flexed at the roots of her scalp, the way his moans and curses are garbled with pleasure with each pump. The way her helpless fluttering, when she tips over the peak, draws this long, sordid groan from him as he cranes his neck back. And then he slows, ducking his chin to watch below through slow thrusts. 
“Dirty girl, cumming all over a stranger’s cock,” Harry swipes with a thumb where the mesh, toying at the seam of her hole when he goes deeper, again, slow. 
And then his grip on her wrist gets hard again as his fingers flex, and he holds onto her hip and guides her in a steady-paced, back and forth bounce over cock. He chases his own releases, every motion rough, and full of control, and so brimmed with this unfamiliar hunger. She’s mush by the time his head tips back, and he gushes ribbon after ribbon into the condom. She’s mush when his grasp over her wrist grows lax, when he knees back clumsily on his knees, when he discards the condom, wrapping it into the confines of its wrapper, when he fixes her purple panties back over her crotch and strokes over the back of her thigh with an amused huff. 
“Alright?” Y/N vaguely hears Harry say from behind when she doesn’t instantly sit up, his voice bordering on amused. 
That’s. Yeah, Y/N thinks. She’s great. There’s still this rush of blood in her ears, and an ache in her joints that interweaves with the soreness of her muscles, but it’s all in such a good way. She makes a barely coherent hum of agreement and rolls her shoulder forward, planting her palms onto the seat to sit up and glance at the time over the display in the front of the car. It’s nearly three in the morning now, and it hits her then, that she’s so tired. She’s so tired, she feels like every piece of her energy had been strewn up and pulled tight on a rope, and now it’s all wasted away. 
Harry gets it. Or he seems to, at least. Sleep beckons her with a whispery croon and a soft touch. The corners of his mouth crook up, and he pats at her hip. 
“Hop up, pet. D’you want me to drive the rest of the way? S’just a little bit, now.” 
Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers. She doesn’t let strangers into her car in the middle of the night from some empty road, she doesn’t fuck them in the backseat, and she certainly doesn’t let strange men drive her car to some unfamiliar location, only lacking being undisclosed from its visible street name on the GPS. Y/N doesn’t do any of that. But she nods weakly and lets their roles flip. She’s mid-raising the back of the passenger seat by the time Harry jogs around to the driver’s seat and slips in. 
In the rear-view, her reflection greets with her unshed tears and bloodshot eyes, mascara smudged below. He turns to face her and strokes a hand down her thigh. He picks the same hand up and sets it onto the gear-shift. Switches to reverse. 
The first thing he says from the front of the car, strawberry mouth quirking as his eyes direct to the back-up camera, is, “I’m sorry about your tights. I hope that was alright.” 
When they pull up to the motel, Y/N doesn’t ask questions. There’s only been a span of, maybe, ten minutes passed between the parking lot and their final stop of the night before Harry pulls into a parking spot and shuts the car off. 
He tells her, “This is my stop.” 
Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers, and exhaustion wracks at every sinew of muscle in her body. She half-expects him to wordlessly hop out of the car. He doesn’t. The man fixes her with a smile, and says, “Could I get your number, maybe?” 
It’s not an odd request by any means, but if she weren’t so tired, maybe she’d ask more questions. Her pupils would wend over the shoddy motel sign, and the shit cars parked beside them, and she’d wonder what the hell they were doing parked in front of some abandoned-looking motel. She’d ask why this was his stop, and not a home. Instead, she pulls a napkin from her glovebox and digs for a pen. She scribbles her digits and hands them off. In the brush of the cool air, from the night, when she clambers out to swap spots with him, she wraps her arms about herself. When she takes a seat into the driver’s side, she expects him to walk away. He doesn’t do that either. Instead, she rolls her window down when he beckons, and Harry leans onto the car and tells her, “Get home alright, yeah?” 
It’s a miracle when she hobbles up the steps of her apartment complex, when she pries open the front door and crashes into her sheets. The blankets envelop her like a warm hug, and she doesn’t even bother pulling off her tights. 
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It’s a week before she gets a phone call. There’s no texts, and the morning after, when she’s greeted with radio-silence, she thinks that maybe she’d dreamt the whole thing. 
Her tights, ripped at the crotch, prove otherwise. 
She’s in bed, days later, when her screen lights up with a call. It’s an unfamiliar number, and curiosity peaks before she swipes over the answer toggle. 
“Hello?” 
A gap of silence, a breath, and a familiar, smooth baritone on the other end of the line. 
“Y/N.” 
There’s a little sound of the bedsheets stirring as she freezes up. He’s caught her off guard. A little laugh plucks at his vocal chords, tinny on the other end of the line, like he’s amused by the stretch of lull. Her lips part, the corners of her mouth inching up as she hears a sigh from him that seeps in all the way to her eardrum. But she doesn’t have time to contemplate what to say or how to say it, because he doesn’t let her get a word in before he’s talking again. 
And his next words are not a playful jest at her lack of response, or anything friendly, really. In fact, the confession, said so nonchalantly, causes chills to erupt down her arms. 
“I was going to kill you that night.” 
The chills aren’t the initial reaction. The initial reflex is the crook of her mouth to morph bemused, the pinch between her eyebrows, and this sullen feeling of dread that twists up in her stomach. A laugh bubbles in her chest, because, what the fuck? 
But then he keeps talking. 
“Thought about draining the life from those pretty eyes the second you rolled your window down,” the voice on the other end sighs, and it’s got this sort of …reminiscent quality to it. Like he’s tracing the steps of the night back to its starting point. Reliving it when he tells her, “It’s such a thrill, you know. Taking that from someone. So intimate.” 
The young woman doesn’t make any sounds, kind of appalled by the sick joke. Because it is sick, it’s disturbing, and it’s a twisted way, at the least, to strike up a conversation if he’s …looking to do what they did again. This isn’t the Harry she’d met on that night. This isn’t the same one who’d worn the cream sweatshirt, and talked all friendly with this smooth, wholesome charm — this wasn’t the man she’d let into her car, this wasn’t the man she’d let do all those filthy things to her, in the backseat of her sedan. This doesn’t feel like the same man at all, and she wishes she’d been aware of the sick sense of humor to his character before she’d let him …violate her. Y/N’s just about to budge in with a disgusted comment, tell him off for calling her so late at night to mess with her, but he beats her to the edge of the gap, yet again. 
Except this time, he sounds sort of frustrated, and the phrase comes out like a scolding, the tone of his cadence firm and irate. “Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to talk to strangers? …Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to trust strange men on the side of the road? S’just …bloody stupid.” 
He laughs. It’s this soft sort of chortle she’d been so charmed by that night — it’s identical, except then, it was this sweet sound full of wholesome mirth. Now, it feels cold. Odd and detached. Surreal.
“But you… you made it so easy,” Y/N listens to every word that comes through the line, hanging onto every syllable of the empty threat as dread churns her stomach. His words from that night crowd behind her skull. You make it so easy. “So friendly, so sweet. Just wanted to chat on and on. I was going to kill you, and you wanted to have a shag—” 
Harry tuts. Her heart hammers behind her ribcage, and she only realizes that her breathing has slowed and that her grip on the smartphone’s grown white-knuckled when it shakes against her cheek. She’d let him drive her car. She’d let him get into her car, she’d let him lure her into pit-stopping in a deserted parking lot, she’d locked the doors, and dimmed the lights, and let him open her up with his fingers and his cock. And then she’d let him drive her car, and take down her number. There’s a moment of mortifying silence.
Harry sounds deadly serious when he tells her, “Don’t you ever pick up another hitchhiker.”
The line goes dead. 
Y/N calls back. The number she reaches belongs to a payphone, unanswered.
786 notes · View notes
lilystyles · 12 days ago
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pearl.
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this series is currently ongoing!! a @lilystyles festive fic!
y/n takes a much-needed break revisiting her eerie little hometown, where she is greeted by an unsettling aura tied to a string of mysterious disappearances. she lands a job at the quirky rosie posie antiques that holds the history and secrets of her home. there she crosses paths with the enigmatic harry, a man with an inexplicable urge to walk her home. y/n throws herself headfirst into the town secrets, will she uncover the truth before she’s the next notch in this psycho killer’s belt?
or author y/n meets her new writing muse, but he's an odd creature.
nonhuman!harry x author!reader
* * * * *
black pearl
y/n gets a job at rosie posie antiques, where she meets niall and harry. something off is happening around town, but y/n can't quite put her finger on it. and harry will not stop walking her home. (7k)
silver pearl
y/n listens to harry sing for the first time, and harry feels tensions rising as the full moon begins to rear its ugly head over the little town. (7k)
more coming soon!
happy harryween angels! <3
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dxnny-art · 13 days ago
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justmeinatree · 1 year ago
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A Wet Dream Just Dangling
Summary : vampire harry wants to eat you out.
TW : smut, period sex, oral (f receiving)
Word Count : 1.5k
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“c’mon, darling,” harry coos, laying in bed, tangled up with you, using the softness of your tummy as a pillow. “don’t have to be shy with me.”
“harry,” you giggle, biting your lip, “never in a million years would i have thought of doing this.”
“hmm, i could wait a million years, but i’d really rather not,” he grumbles, fingertips gently stroking your skin. “you know it’ll make you feel better, my love.”
“s’embarrassing. and really awkward,” you groan, stuffing your face in a pillow, fingers carding through your boyfriend’s hair.
“nothing to be embarrassed about. totally normal thing,” he turns his head, chin pressed into your skin, peering up at you. “besides, s’not like it’s my first time.”
“that doesn’t exactly make me feel better,” you giggle. 
when you met harry, and inevitably fell deeply in love, you knew there would be a learning curve to dating him. the whole vampire thing being a bit of an adjustment for you. 
in the last 6 months, you’d gotten used to the feeding part of dating him. a weekly, sometimes twice a week, occurrence, that you’d grown to honestly be excited for. the intimate part of it all wasn’t lost on you. if anything, it made you feel closer to him.
so far, the idea of period sex hadn’t come up. that is, until today. your cramps were a little worse than usual, and although you know that sex has helped to alleviate them, you also know that he’s not just asking for sex. he’s asking to eat you out.
“beautiful girl, you’ll love it,” he hums, pecking over your stomach, tongue darting to take a few tentative licks of your skin. 
your taste invades his senses immediately, fangs poking out on their own accord, gently scraping against you, just enough to make a trail of goosebumps follow their path.
“harry,” you whine softly. he knows that whine, knows that what he’s doing is working. and the lower he makes his way down your stomach, kissing, sucking, licking, tasting, the more he can smell you. smell the blood, smell the arousal mixing in. his mind starts going hazy, only able to focus on blood, blood, blood. but more specifically your blood.
“please,” he mutters so softly you barely caught it, fingertips dancing by the waistband of your sweatpants, lips and tongue and fuck, so much harry, ghosting over your hips. “please, will you let me, my love ?” little puffs of warm air tickling your skin.
“do it,” you sigh contently, setting your reservations aside at the pure desperate neediness to his tone. you’re not sure you could have ever imagined your big scary vampire to sound so soft and small, it made you give into him even quicker than usual.
the next moment flies by in a flash, your pants ripped clean off you, legs spread wide, thighs held open with his hands, an animalistic growl echoing from harry’s chest, fangs on full display, dropping down to breathe you in.
“fuck, fuck,” harry groans, his temple resting against your inner thigh, eyes locked on your cunt. you were absolutely soaked. your hormones on overdrive from your period, plus well, day 2 of your period, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen something so fucking beautiful. 
his tongue tentatively pokes out, taking a lick at your sopping folds, harry’s eyes rolling back. “fucking christ, my beautiful girl, can’t-“ he shakes his head, taking another lick, “can’t hold myself back. stop me if it’s too much.”
and with that, he delves in. face instantly pressing into your cunt, tongue darting into you, licking at your inner walls with purpose.
you struggle to keep up with the quickness of it all, your body reacting to harry before your brain has a chance to keep up. with your back arching, a loud moan echoing through the room, you grip into his hair, pressing yourself more into his face.
you can feel the vibration from his groan, your pussy clenching on his lapping tongue. you can feel the bluntness of his fangs encompassing your heat, a slight sting from time to time, when they scrape particularly roughly. you can feel the nipping of his nails in your skin, thighs aching from his strength holding you spread open. 
with your period long forgotten, cramps seemingly swept away with the flick of harry’s tongue, you keep rolling your hips into his face, causing his moans to increase.
harry’s mind is reeling, so far gone, overtaken with the continuous flow of blood. he doesn’t have to pace himself, doesn’t have to worry about taking too much. he can slurp up as much as he likes. add in the sweet taste of your arousal, and all he can focus on is more, more, more.
his eyes flick up to meet yours, the darkest crimson you think you’ve ever seen looking back at you. you note the deep red smeared over his pale porcelain skin, and you feel yourself tug on his hair harder, the sight making your skin prickle. you weren’t sure how this scene could ever be so beautiful, but here it was. and it made your stomach clench. 
you can see the moment harry knows you’re going to cum, his eyes looking at you in recognition, cunt throbbing on his tongue, his mouth moving north for a moment to suck and flick at your clit. instantly, your orgasm crashes over you, back arching, legs trembling against his hold.
and harry’s ecstatic to lick you through it, scooping up the bubbles of blood, a guttural moan vibrating from the depths of his chest, his tongue migrating south again, face following suit.
without a moment to breathe, harry being hyper focused on blood, languidly stroking his tongue up and down and up and down through your slit, from entrance to clit, lapping up the blood, the arousal, the overwhelming sense of you, you, you.
“harry,” you whimper breathily, trying to compose yourself post orgasm, all while still having his tongue scooping from deep inside you. you couldn’t budge your legs at all, no matter how hard you tried to close them, your entire body prickling with heat every time he’d stroke your sweet spot.
your whines fall on deaf ears, harry much too busy with his face buried in your cunt. it was moments like these where he loves that breathing isn’t a problem he needs to worry about anymore. 
so he continues on, sucking and slurping, getting completely lost in the seemingly endless supply of sustenance. so much so, that you’re almost certain he’s completely missed the fact that you’re cumming again.
your moans had gotten increasingly loud, body trembling and wracking in his hands, fingers pulling tight on his hair. your cunt was clenched hard around his tongue, but his muscles were strong, and it didn’t stop him one bit. growling pants coming from between your legs, he flicked his tongue over and over and over against your inner walls.
body covered in a sheen of sweat, you were panting, whining, so fucking overstimulated. and yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop him. even with your third orgasm looming, the coil in your stomach tighter than it’s been all night, almost painfully so, you could not stop.
your hips try to lift off the bed, muscles stretching and tensing all at once, an explosion of heat and tingles spreads through you, your cunt at the centre of the storm.
harry groans happily, his mouth working you through your third orgasm, hands sliding from your inner thighs, around to the small of your back, holding you. 
instantly, your legs close on his head, a moan vibrating from harry’s mouth, his hold leaving your back, sliding over your bum, up the back of your thighs, to press your knees into your chest.
and for the first moment since his escapade began, he pulls his mouth away from your pussy, looking at it, admiring his beautiful girl’s most intimate parts. he knows he’s pushed you to a limit, doesn’t have to ask, he absolutely knows you well enough by now. 
he still, however, unable to help himself, takes a gentle lick all the way up your slit, your body flinching in response. “m’sorry, darling. just so pretty.”
heat rises to your cheeks, wiggling your hips, trying to get away from him, as embarrassment, shyness creeps up on you.
and again, knowing you so well, harry notices, shaking his head, pecking against the back of your thigh, knees still pressed to your chest. he takes another gentle lick up your cunt, groaning, “don’t know why you even bother with pads and tampons. fuckin waste of money, if you ask me.”
……
Masterlist
tags : @gorlsinmultifandoms @cc-horan
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lemoncrushh · 1 year ago
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Kiss Me Deadly
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SUMMARY: The annual Halloween party at the local pub has Y/N excited when she decides to invite her boss at the University, Mr. Styles. But she soon begins to second guess her decision when Harry starts acting odd. Is Harry Styles really who she thinks he is? Will this Halloween be a fantasy come true…or the kiss of death?
WARNINGS: mentions of blood (I mean, it's a vampire fic lol), smut (oral - female receiving).
WORD COUNT: 6.4k
A/N: Happy Halloween! Sorry for the delay of this story. I had hoped to get it out last week, but I had some weird life-altering things happen that have occupied my mind. Hope you enjoy. FEEDBACK IS LOVE.
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Harry removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting the large book on his desk. Rising from his chair, he called out to his assistant.
“Time to lock up, Y/N. I wanna get out of here before eight o’clock.”
“No problem, Mr. Styles,” she said, closing her own book in front of her.
Pursing his lips, Harry shook his head. Y/N knew what the look was for. For weeks now he’d been insisting she call him by his first name. But being his assistant, it felt odd to her, unnatural.
Not to mention the horrible crush she had on him. Truth be told, Y/N had a massive crush on him long before she ever took the position as his assistant. But up until then, he’d only been Mr. Styles to her, the attractive English TA with a British accent.
When Mr. Styles and Dr. Osborne had initially told Y/N about the position and that she’d be perfect for it, she’d been completely surprised. Teacher’s Assistants didn’t usually have their own assistants. But the university had a large English department, and Dr. Osborne insisted that more help was needed. Therefore, Y/N had been spending Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings this semester assisting Mr. Styles, and in turn, assisting Dr. Osborne.
“How many times is that now?” asked Harry, sliding his glasses back onto his face.
“Times?”
“Times I’ve told you to just call me Harry,” he commented with a frown. “Mr. Styles makes me feel so old.”
Y/N chuckled, “You’re not old.”
“‘Course not. I’ve barely got a few years on you.”
Trying not to blush, Y/N took the stack of books in her arms and turned toward the shelves to put them away.
“So why are you closing up early tonight? Hot date?” she joked.
Y/N heard Harry snort before she turned around and saw the strange look on his face. Embarrassment? Had she pried where she shouldn’t have?
“Not exactly.”
“Oh.”
“I have plans…but I wouldn’t exactly call it a date,” he added.
“Ah. I see.” Although she didn’t.
Y/N didn’t know much about Harry Styles outside of his job at the university. She always wondered who or what he went home to every night. Didn’t know if he had any social life, anything about his likes or dislikes that weren’t English related. He seemed to keep to himself, and Y/N respected that. But it didn’t mean she didn’t fantasize sometimes…
“Y/N,” she heard him say, breaking her from her reverie.
“Oh, um, yes?”
Harry chuckled. “Wow, you were zoned out. I asked if you were ready to go. I’ll walk you out.”
“Oh. Yeah!” Y/N stammered. “Hang on, just have two more books to put away.”
Shelving the last book in her hands, Y/N grabbed the two on her table and quickly put them in their places. Walking past Harry to the coat rack, she grabbed her jacket, getting a whiff of his delicious cologne. Y/N wasn’t sure what it was, and was always afraid to ask him. But every single day he smelled divine. Nothing like the boys in college.
“Ready,” she announced, slipping her arms into her sleeves and grabbing her shoulder bag.
Y/N followed Harry down the steps to the entrance of the English building. Spotting her friend Lauren across the pavement coming out of the library, she waved and called her name.
“Have a good night, Mr. Styles,” Y/N paused, “I mean, Harry.”
She caught the twitch of his lips underneath the dim campus light before he said, “You too, Y/N.”
“That guy you work with is so hot,” remarked Lauren after she and Y/N had both ordered drinks at their favorite local pub.
“Who?” Y/N asked, accepting her beer from the bartender, “Harry?”
“You call him Harry?”
“He asked me to,” she said. “But I still call him Mr. Styles.”
“Jesus, that’s even hotter!”
Y/N laughed, nearly knocking over her glass. “Well, you’re not wrong. He is hot. But he’s very reserved.”
“Ooh the nerdy, quiet type! I like! Maybe you need to pull him out of his shell.”
“I dunno,” Y/N smirked with a shrug.
“C’mon. I bet you’re just the girl to do it,” Lauren insisted.
“And how do I do that, pray tell?”
“Ask him out!”
“I can’t just ask out my boss! There has to be rules against that sort of thing, right?”
“Hmmm,” Lauren nodded, taking a sip from her own beer. “Maybe casually suggest something. Like coffee, or a drink after work. In a social gathering type place, like here. Oh my God!”
“What?”
“The Halloween party! He probably knows about it - he might even already have plans on coming!” squealed Lauren.
“I doubt it,” Y/N shook her head.
“You never know. It’s mostly a school event anyway. You don’t even have to ask him out on a date, just tell him you’ll be there and he should come.”
“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Y/N muttered, chewing her lip.
“I know! I have brilliant ideas,” Lauren declared.
Despite the unusually warm night, Harry could see his breath in front of him, instantly dissipating into the air. He pulled the collar up on his black coat as he continued down the pavement. Stopping at the corner of the pub, he could hear the music and chatter from inside. But there was only one voice he wanted to hear. Only one person whose blood he could already hear pulsing through his eardrums.
The smell was intoxicating - her smell. His mouth began to water as he peeked through the blinds of the old family pub. He found her quickly, sat at the bar with that friend of hers, the one who’d ruined his plan.
He had hoped to follow Y/N home after leaving the English building. Watch her climb the steps to her flat and let herself in. He’d done it a few times before, but he wouldn’t call it stalking. He just enjoyed her aroma, the rushing of her blood through her veins. Then when he was sure she was home safely, he’d turn around and walk home.
This particular night, however, he had thought perhaps he’d get the courage to walk up to her. Maybe act as if it was a coincidence that he was in her part of town. He’d even conjured up a lie, saying his plans for the evening had gotten canceled, if she seemed happy to see him. Then he’d ask her to join him for a drink. A glass of wine perhaps. But not at this noisy pub, no. Somewhere secluded, more…romantic.
Blasted Lauren, or whatever her name was. He reckoned he’d have to wait for another night. But…time was running out…
Lauren and Y/N called it a night after only two beers. Y/N was tired and Lauren had an early shift at the shop where she worked. After giving her friend a farewell hug, Y/N crossed the street and headed for home. She noticed a bit of a fog, thinking it suitable for this time of year. Halloween was only a few days away. She hadn’t originally planned on going to the party at the pub, seeing as Lauren had a date and she didn’t want to be the third wheel. But now the prospect of asking Harry had made her change her mind.
Making a list of possible last-minute costumes in her head, she suddenly heard something behind her. Turning her head, however, she saw nothing but empty pavement. Continuing on her way, she’d almost reached her building when she heard something again. This time, she turned swifty, seeing only a cloud of pillowy smoke. Thinking it odd for the fog to circulate in that manner, she felt a chill run down her spine. Her eyes shifted from side to side as her body stood frozen.
“Hello?” she called out meekly.
When she got no response, she slowly turned back around, only to run into a tall frame of a man. She nearly screamed when two hands grabbed her shoulders, but her words stalled when she looked up into a pair of familiar green eyes.
“Oh! Mr. Sty- Harry,” she breathed. “What…what are you doing here?”
“I’m terribly sorry, Y/N,” he said, squeezing her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Still trembling, her heart beating loudly, Y/N blinked and nodded. “It’s…it’s okay. I thought someone was following me.”
“Oh, well now I do feel terrible.”
“No,” she swallowed, placing a hand over her chest. “Don’t, really. I was probably just paranoid. What with the fog and all.”
“Ah, yes. It is quite a foggy night, isn’t it?” Harry gazed around.
That was when Y/N noticed he wasn’t wearing his glasses. She chuckled nervously as she felt Harry’s hands leave her arms.
“So what are you doing here?” she asked, bracing herself to hear Harry reveal details of his evening.
“Well, I…” he echoed the nervous chuckle, scratching his forehead. “It’s rather embarrassing actually. My plans got canceled.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” Y/N remarked.
“I’m not,” Harry grinned.
Y/N felt the blood rush through her veins at the way he smiled at her. She’d seen him smile many times, but this was different. It was as though a sudden spark had ignited behind his eyes.
“I know there’s a popular pub nearby,” he added. “Fancy a drink?”
Y/N’s eyes widened. Was he seriously asking her? Now?
“Well, I…” she muttered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I um…actually just came from there. Had some drinks with a friend.”
Harry caught himself before saying, “Oh, right.” Don’t be daft, Harry. She can’t know. Not yet. Instead, he cleared his throat. “I see.”
God, you’re a moron, Y/N scolded herself. He’s asking you out and you’re saying no?
“But you know…” Y/N quickly thought on her feet, “I may have a bottle of wine at my place. It’s just up there.”
“Really?” Harry cocked a brow as he turned his head in the direction she pointed.
“Sure. That is, if you’d like to come up.”
Would I? “Um, yeah, that sounds…great,” Harry nodded.
Y/N tried to conceal her delight, giving only a casual grin as she turned toward her building. She could feel Harry’s presence behind her, his shadow taller than hers underneath the streetlamp. It made her feel safe, but at the same time a tiny bit apprehensive. She had never invited Harry - nor anyone from the university for that matter - up to her apartment. She didn’t even think he knew where she lived. And yet…here he was. Just when she’d been thinking of him.
When she reached her front door, she scrambled for her keys, dropping them on the ground.
“Shit,” she cursed, but before she could bend down to retrieve them, another hand held them out in front of her.
“Oh. Thanks,” she whispered, her eyes meeting Harry’s who was already standing beside her, his body so close that she almost gasped.
“You’re welcome.”
Y/N didn’t miss the way his tone was so incredibly low, she felt it vibrate in her chest. She also didn’t miss the way his gaze didn’t leave her face, even when she inserted the key in the door.
“I really need to use the restroom,” she announced as soon as they were inside. “I’m so sorry. That beer I had earlier went right through me.”
“No worries,” Harry chuckled.
“Have a seat,” Y/N gestured with a smile. “I’ll be right back.”
As soon as she had shut the bathroom door, Harry slipped out of his coat, placing it on the armrest of a nearby chair. He then walked casually around the room, inspecting knick knacks and books on the shelves. Spotting a photo in a frame, he picked it up, Y/N’s smile gazing back at him as he felt a sudden rush. As though he’d been shocked with electricity, he quickly set it back on the shelf.
“Sorry about that!” he heard Y/N sing behind him.
He turned with a smile. Somehow in the few seconds she was gone, she had managed to make herself look even more…inviting. She wore an oversized jumper with the University logo on it and a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants. She couldn’t have looked cuter if she had been dolled up for a night out. But as she stepped closer to him, Harry got a massive whiff of her aroma and nearly stumbled backwards.
“So…wine!” she pointed at Harry with a giggle before turning for the kitchen.
“You know,” Harry swallowed, “we could take a raincheck if you like. I know you’re probably tired and…” His words stalled when he saw the disappointed look on her face.
“I just don’t want to put you out,” he finished.
“Oh, you’re not!” Y/N insisted. Then she reached for glasses in the cupboard, softly adding, “I’m actually glad you’re here.”
“You are?”
“Mhm,” she nodded, sucking in her lips. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Really?” Harry raised a brow.
Y/N felt the color rise on her face as she poured the wine. “I assume you’ve heard of the Halloween party?”
“I have. It’s at that pub, right?”
“Right. Are you going?” Y/N hesitantly handed Harry a glass.
“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip before making eye contact. “Um, hadn’t really thought about it, honestly.”
“Oh.”
“Why? Are you going?”
Y/N sighed as she leaned against the counter. “I wasn’t planning on it, but…my friend Lauren’s going, and her boyfriend Josh. A couple other people I know said they probably will…so…”
“You don’t have a date?”
Y/N stood up straight, her eyes wide. “Oh, it wouldn’t have to be like a date or anything,” she explained hastily. “Just…you know…thought you might like to go.”
“Ah,” a smirk grew on Harry’s handsome face. Damn it.
“I mean, I’ve never really seen you outside of school other than tonight, and…you totally don’t have to-”
“I’d love to,” he interrupted.
A loud exasperated breath blew from between Y/N’s lips. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Harry continued grinning as he walked around the kitchen counter to stand next to Y/N. “I like Halloween. And I like you.”
Y/N’s eyes widened as Harry came closer, his last words hanging in the air. She was almost unsure if she’d heard him correctly. But when he lifted his wine glass to his lips, took a sip and lowered it revealing another smirk, she knew she had.
“You-you do?”
“Of course. I thought I’d made that pretty clear, no?”
“No,” Y/N shook her head, “actually.���
“Shit. I must be terrible at this then.”
Y/N giggled, covering her mouth. “No. I’m horrible at reading signals, I think.”
Harry’s smirk grew into a wide smile. “Well, I reckon that’s out there now. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Y/N echoed, lifting her glass. When she lowered it, she looked at Harry. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you without your glasses.”
“Yeah? Well, I…” he patted his chest, “have them in my pocket. I only really need them for reading.”
“Oh.”
“Of which we do a lot,” he added, wiggling his brows.
“Yeah,” Y/N chuckled through a sigh. “Well, you look nice. But you look nice with them, too.”
“Thank you.”
Y/N gestured toward the couch, and Harry followed, taking a seat next to her. As soon as he sat down, however, he got another intoxicating whiff of her aroma. He could tell she was nervous, her heart pumping fast. Closing his eyes, Harry took a moment to get his bearings.
No, not yet, he thought to himself. It’s not time yet.
“This is pretty good wine,” he heard Y/N say. Opening his eyes, he saw her gazing into her glass. “I’m not an expert, but I saw it at the liquor store and the guy there said it was good.”
“It’s delicious,” Harry agreed. “You made a good choice.”
“I have to watch myself though,” Y/N giggled, sitting back on the sofa. “I could easily get drunk on this.”
“Yeah?” Harry smirked.
“Mmm,” Y/N nodded as she took another sip. “I can already see myself going there, and I haven’t even finished one glass.”
Harry chuckled as he took his own sip, a rather larger one than hers. Then setting his empty glass on the coffee table, he scooted closer to Y/N. He could feel the heat radiating off of her, hear her pulse beating in his ears.
He watched her face as he reached for her wine glass and set it down next to his. Her beautiful, pouty lips matched the crimson shade of the wine, and his urge to taste them amplified. Lifting his hand, he ran his thumb across her bottom lip until she delicately opened her mouth, inviting his thumb to graze her tongue.
The contact nearly had him on his knees, his desire more than he could bear. Running his tongue along his teeth, he could feel his fangs emerging. He had to taste her. Now.
Now! Or get out!
The voice inside was getting louder. So much that he almost didn’t have the nerve to stop it. So he did the only thing he could do. The only thing that could possibly be done in that moment if he didn’t want to expose the truth.
No, not yet!
Snapping his hand back, Harry quickly rose from the sofa.
“I…I should go,” he said, his throat dry and harsh.
“Oh!” Y/N gasped as she looked up at him, ashamed and bewildered. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no, don’t be,” Harry shook his head and grabbed his coat. “You did nothing. You’re…you’re enchanting. I just…I have to go. We’ll do this another time, yeah?”
“Okay.”
Y/N followed Harry to the door where he paused for only a moment to look back. She noticed his eyes were glassy, almost clear, bright. She took a step back, astonished.
“I’ll um…see you Monday,” Harry said, lowering his gaze. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
Before she could reply, he was gone, like a cloud of smoke in the night. With a sigh, Y/N shut the door.
What had she done wrong?
Monday afternoon was going by slowly. Y/N looked at the clock. It was barely after five. Harry hadn’t uttered a word about what had happened Friday night. In fact, he was being his old self, very cordial and professional. It was driving Y/N crazy. She snuck a look in his direction as he concentrated on his laptop.
Fuck, Y/N sighed to herself. He’s so sexy with those glasses. And the sweater vest? Kill me now!
Harry suddenly looked up from his computer, his eyes locking with hers as if he had heard her thoughts. His lips began to do that little twitch again as Y/N dropped her pen, an obtrusive clattering sound when it hit the floor.
“What?” Harry finally asked with a smirk.
“Um, nothing,” Y/N scrambled, reaching down for her pen.
God, just ask him! Y/N screamed inwardly. What are you waiting for?
Sitting up at her desk, she noticed Harry had resumed his work, typing on his keyboard. With a sigh, Y/N clicked her pen as she tried to concentrate on something else. Something other than the taste of his stupid thumb on her bottom lip and the way his eyes had gone bright as he’d looked into her soul.
Suddenly, Harry chuckled. The sound was low at first, and Y/N wondered if he was reading something humorous on his laptop. But then the sound grew, and he turned his head to look at her.
“What is it, Y/N?” he asked again.
“What do you mean?” she stared, startled.
“You’re clicking that pen like a mad woman. Something’s up.”
Sitting up straight, Y/N slapped the pen down on the desk. “Sorry. I was just…wondering if you’re okay.”
“Me? I’m not the one acting crazy,” Harry joked.
“I mean…after Friday…”
“Oh…” Harry sighed, sitting back in his chair. Then removing his glasses, he rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, about that, I-”
“It’s okay,” Y/N interrupted, clearing her throat. Though she’d asked the question, she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for an answer. At least not the answer she figured she was about to get. “That was probably a mistake. Mr. Styles.”
“Y/N, no,” he shook his head. Then rising from his chair, he walked toward her, stopping at her desk. “Don’t think that. I just…”
His words trailed off as he surprised Y/N by perching himself on the corner of her desk.
“I like you, Y/N,” he confirmed. “I wasn’t lying about that, and it wasn’t the wine. I just feel the need to…take things slow with you.”
Y/N smiled softly. “I understand.”
“I shouldn’t have run off like that though; that was unfair to you. And I apologize.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Good,” Harry beamed. “So we’re still on for tomorrow?”
“Mhm,” Y/N nodded, biting her lip. “I hope so.”
“Brilliant. I’ll meet you there, yeah?”
Before Y/N could nod again, Harry leaned forward and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Then he placed a soft kiss on her lips.
“That’s to make up for Friday,” he remarked, his mouth only a whisper away from hers.
“Oh.” Y/N could barely breathe.
“Your lips are delicious. Like that wine.”
Pressing another kiss to her mouth, Harry let out a low, deep groan. Y/N’s chest shook as she was finally able to inhale. When he backed away, she opened her eyes to see his were still closed. She watched as he swallowed hard, his jaw set.
“Harry…” she managed to squeak.
He opened his eyes slowly, and that’s when she noticed. Instead of the glowing crystal shade they had been Friday, they were a deep, dark shade of midnight. Startled once again, she hastily scooted back, her chair scraping against the floor.
“Y/N,” he croaked, slowly blinking. “Please don’t be frightened of me.”
“Your-your eyes!” she gasped. “They k-keep changing.”
“Oh,” Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. They do that sometimes. When I get…excited.”
“Excited?”
“Nothing to worry about, darling,” he reassured her, rising from the desk. “I’m sort of a…freak of nature.”
Y/N could detect the humorous tone in his words. But still, she remained in her seat, a bit frazzled.
“C’mere,” he said, holding out his hand.
Y/N took it hesitantly, allowing Harry to pull her to her feet. Lifting a hand, he lightly brushed her hair from her shoulder. Then she felt him touch her neck, his large hand gliding across it.
“So lovely,” he cooed, his voice just above a whisper. “Delicate, like a China doll.”
When he pulled her closer, she could feel his breath on her cheek. Then he nibbled at her jaw, sending a wave of desire down to her core.
Holy fuck, what is happening?
She gasped when his tongue met her skin, his other hand gripping her waist. She dug her nails into the front of his sweater, not sure how or where to hold on. As he began to suck on her delicate flesh just beneath her ear, she cried out in pleasure.
“Harry…”
Almost instantaneously, Harry pushed her back against the bookshelves. The thud caused a couple of books to fall off and onto the floor, but Harry continued with his seduction. Y/N lifted her leg, wrapping it around Harry’s in order to feel the friction she now so needed. Running her hands through his hair, she heard him growl in her ear.
“Y/N…I need you.”
“Me too,” she gasped.
When she pulled him even closer, tugging on the waistband of his trousers, however, Harry froze. Then he let out a guttural cry, like a wounded animal.
“Aaauuuuggggghhhhhh!” he screamed. “No!”
Pushing himself away from the bookshelf, he stood before Y/N as she remained still, her eyes wide. Harry appeared to be shaking, as though he was willing himself not to go further.
“Harry?” Y/N whispered.
His eyes shut tight, Harry shook his head. Then gritting his teeth, he motioned toward the door. “Go.”
“What?” Y/N asked incredulously.
“Goooo!” Harry shouted.
“Harry, what’s wrong?”
Folded over at his waist, Harry looked like he was trying to catch his breath. Her fear magnified, thinking something was terribly wrong. Y/N stepped forward, reaching for him.
“No!” he cried.
“Harry, you’re scaring me…”
“Just go. Please. You’re dismissed.”
Quickly, Y/N grabbed her jacket and bag and ran for the door. Turning back, she saw Harry, his back to her as he gripped the edge of the bookshelf. She didn’t dare run back to him, though deep inside she wanted to. She was afraid, not for her own safety…but for his.
Y/N stepped out of the English building into the cool evening air. The sun was just beginning to descend. Before making her way to the parking lot, she looked up at the building, to the window she knew was occupied by Dr. Osborne’s department. She saw no sign of Harry. In fact, the lights had been turned off.
Crossing the street, she felt a cold chill down to her bones. What had just happened? Was Harry ill? Or was he really a ‘freak of nature’ like he’d said? Perhaps he was not the sweet, nerdy guy she’d pinned him to be. Maybe he had some serious demons. Though she felt concerned for him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.
Harry watched her through the pub window again. She was dressed as an angel, of all things. This was too easy, too perfect.
But he might as well have had his eyes closed. He could hear her blood pumping through the glass. Her pulse was so loud, he could barely contain his excitement.
This was it. This would be the night.
“So you’re sure he’s not coming?” asked Lauren as they sat at the bar.
Y/N wasn’t going to show up herself, but she’d already put together an angel costume that she didn’t want to see go to waste.
“I mean, would you?” Y/N raised a brow.
She’d told her friend about the two episodes with Harry, and how both times he’d backed off. She didn’t go into details, though. Nothing about the eye color changing, or how he’d told her to leave. Some things were better left unsaid.
Lauren shrugged. “You never know. He might still show up.”
Josh returned from playing darts with his friends, declaring a new round of drinks was required.
“I think I might sit this one out,” remarked Y/N.
“No, girl, c’mon!” whined Lauren. “We’re here to have fun tonight. No matter what.”
“Okay, fine,” Y/N rolled her eyes.
“Two kamikazes over here!” her friend called out.
When Lauren swiveled around on her stool, Y/N caught the look of awe on her face. Then with a grin, she poked Y/N in the arm. Turning around, she spotted Harry entering the pub, dressed in black from head to toe.
“Yes, Daddy!” Lauren remarked under her breath.
“Harry!” exclaimed Y/N. “You came!”
“I told you I would,” he declared, stepping forward. “And I intend to keep my promises.”
“Look at you, man,” remarked Josh. “Great vampire costume.”
Harry looked down at his coat. He knew his fangs weren’t showing. Not yet. He checked his nails to be sure. Nope, clean and short. Raising his head, he heard Josh cackle.
“I mean, it’s subtle. But the eyeliner and clear eyes are effective.”
Ah. So it was the eyes. He couldn’t help that much. They had been glowing since he’d smelled Y/N’s blood. He’d let the lad think he was wearing makeup. It was Halloween after all.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” said Y/N, her sweet voice ringing out like the angel that she was.
Harry’s lips curled up in a smile. “Me too. Brilliant costume.”
The sound of Lauren clearing her throat cut through the moment before she handed Y/N her cocktail.
“What are you having, Mr. Styles?” she teased, giving Y/N a wink.
“Harry, please,” he insisted. “A glass of merlot would be divine.”
“Divine? Oooh, listen to this scholar!”
Y/N made a face, then turned back to Harry.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show up. After yesterday.”
“Yeah, I need to talk to you about that,” he said, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “But later, okay? In private?”
“Okay.”
After Harry received his merlot, everyone made a toast. As soon as “Thriller” began to play, Lauren cheered, pulling Josh off his stool to dance with her.
“They had a head start,” Y/N commented with a giggle.
“No, I’m late, and I apologize. But I can catch up,” Harry winked.
The evening progressed, the foursome sharing laughs and cocktails. Some other people from the university recognized Harry and came over to say hello. As the clock ticked on, however, Harry knew his time was getting limited.
“I need to talk to you now,” he told Y/N. “Walk with me?”
“Oh. Okay,” she slipped down from her stool and announced her departure to her friends.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Lauren teased before waving goodbye.
“Are you okay to walk?” Harry asked once they were outside.
“I think so,” she smirked. “You may need to carry me.”
“I could probably manage that,” Harry chuckled.
The cool night air seemed to help, however, and by the time they rounded the corner of the pub, the couple was holding hands.
“I had a great time,” declared Y/N. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Me too.”
“So what did you want to tell me?”
“First, I wanna show you something.”
Harry squeezed her hand, guiding her to the left behind the pub. Y/N chuckled to herself as she heard the beat of “Time Warp”, the volume getting lower before she and Harry came to the local park.
Harry gestured toward a bench, taking a seat next to her. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself.
“Are you cold?” asked Harry.
“A little. I didn’t bother with a coat because…you know, wings.”
“You’ll be much warmer soon,” he commented.
Y/N turned to give Harry a look but noticed his eyes were focused on the sky.
“What is it?” Y/N inquired.
“Just looking at the moon,” Harry replied. “It’s mystifying, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…I guess.”
Harry could feel his eyes changing already, his teeth sharpening in his mouth. Running his tongue across them, he swallowed hard.
“Do you ever wonder if you’re destined to be something else?” he suddenly asked.
“Um…yeah,” Y/N blinked. “All the time.”
“What would you do if you were immortal?”
Harry turned his head then, and Y/N noticed his eyes were dark, like they had been in the English office. She instantly scooted back on the bench, nearly falling off.
“Please don’t be frightened, my angel. I mean no harm to you.”
“Harry, what’s….what’s going on?” she croaked, her own eyes unable to tear away from his.
Harry reached his hand out, his nails now long with pointed ends. Y/N gasped, her mouth wide open.
“Let me show you, Y/N,” he coaxed, grabbing her hand. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, my love. It’s our destiny.”
Before Y/N could reply, Harry’s mouth covered hers in a deep kiss. He could feel her struggle to break free for just a split second before she melted into the kiss with him. Cradling the back of her head, he deepened the kiss further, his tongue wrestling with hers. He felt her moan against him, and that pleased him.
She grabbed hold of the lapels on his coat, pulling him closer. Wrapping his other arm around her waist, he held her tight as his mouth continued to devour hers. He heard her start to whimper, and he couldn’t help but chuckle low. His angel. She needed him.
Y/N gasped as Harry’s mouth moved to her neck. She felt him nibble along the delicate flesh, her senses reeling. Suddenly, he groaned in her ear, his voice deep.
“It’s time, my angel.”
Time? Time for what?
Before the words could escape her lips, she felt a sharp sting followed by the most blissful, orgasmic sensation she’d ever experienced. The blood in her veins seemed to rush so rapidly, and so loudly that she could hear it, like waves crashing in her ears. She threw her head back as Harry held onto her, his mouth never leaving her neck.
She thought she called out in ecstasy, though she was unsure if it was only in her mind. She grasped at Harry’s arms, needing to feel him, to hold him for fear of falling.
The pleasure began to heighten even more, Y/N’s nails digging into Harry’s coat until she was suddenly cloaked in darkness, as though the world had gone black. 
“Y/N…”
She heard the soft, low coo before she opened her eyes.
“Wake up, angel,” he said.
“Harry…” she whispered, her throat dry. “What…?”
Feeling her tremble, he pulled her close. “Shh, baby. Everything’s okay now. I’m right here.”
“Where are we?” she inquired, gazing around the dark room, filled with lit candles.
“My bed,” Harry grinned.
“Oh.”
And just like that, Y/N didn’t even question it. Being in Harry’s room, with him in his bed felt…natural. Almost like deja vu. Lush linens, the smell of plums and incense. Her warm, naked body next to his. It felt familiar. It was right.
Seeing that Y/N was now content, Harry smiled wide. Then sliding his hand up her side, he cupped her breast. Her eyelids fluttered as she let out a long moan.
“Ah, you’re ultra sensitive now, hmm?” Harry commented as he ran his thumb across her nipple.
“Harry…mmm…”
Rolling onto her side, she pulled him into a kiss, needing to feel him. She sucked on his tongue, grabbed his hard cock. She was hungry with lust.
“Easy, baby,” he panted. “We have all the time in the world.”
“But I need you now,” she explained with a pout.
With a raspy chuckle, Harry laid her back on the bed, hovering over her luscious body.
“I wanna taste you first,” he insisted.
Biting her lip, Y/N nodded. Yes, taste me.
His long body slithered down hers until he was facing her hips and thighs. Her scent permeated the sheets, and he found a moan rising from his throat.
My delicious angel.
Y/N let out a loud cackle when Harry lightly tickled her bare skin along her hips. Harry grinned, knowing her sensitivity was accelerated. But it was not just his touch that had her laughing. It was the mere awareness of everything. Being in the moment. The utter bliss and sexual desire was almost more than her senses could handle.
Harry could hardly contain his desire either. He needed to taste her, to feel her writhing underneath him. But he also wanted to take it slow.
He rutted his head against the inside of her legs, like a dog wanting to be petted. He felt her nails dig into his hair, grabbing his curls just before he began to nibble on her thigh. As her moans got louder, ringing in his ears and throughout the room, Harry wondered how long he could hold out - or better yet, how long she could hold out.
With wild abandon, he let himself be the freak of nature he claimed to be. He heard her squeal before her expletive.
“Holy shit, did you just bite me?”
“Maybe,” he chuckled low. “Did it hurt?”
“Actually…no. Do it again.”
With another grin, Harry ran his thumbs across her bare flesh along her inner thigh.
“I love your skin here,” he commented. “It’s so soft and supple.”
Then lowering his head again, he let his fangs graze down her leg and back up. He felt Y/N tremble beneath him, a small cry rising from her throat. Then very gently, he pressed a little harder, barely piercing the skin.
Y/N moaned in pleasure as Harry licked the area clean, tasting her sweet blood on his tongue. Then he moved his tongue to the task at hand - what he’d come for. Centering his mouth over her mound, he let out a cool breath, tickling her. She squirmed beneath him, her desire silent but apparent. She craved him just as much as he craved her. Then lifting her hips, he brought his tongue to her clit, giving it one quick flick before diving in.
If there was one thing Harry knew he was good at - other than his knowledge of English literature - it was eating pussy. And now that he was a creature of the night, he could do it for hours, for days. Of course, having a sweet angel like Y/N beneath him was all he needed now.
Y/N’s moans began to subside a bit, but Harry knew it was not because she wasn’t enjoying it. On the contrary. She was so enraptured by his talent, she could barely breathe.
Sweet little kitten. He almost felt sorry for her, but not really. He knew this was what she wanted, what she was destined for. He’d felt it the first time they’d met. Her wide-eyed stare when she thought he wasn’t looking. Her cute little shy giggles at every stupid joke he made. The intoxicating aroma of her blood rushing through her veins. And when she’d finally invited him up to her flat…
“Oh my God…” she panted, her nails digging into his head. “Oh!”
Harry hummed against her cunt, tasting her sweet juices. He knew she was close. He’d let her come this time. She needed it. Needed that release. Just this once. Next time he’d make her ride it out longer, because he knew she could.
As his lips took hold of her clit once more, sucking gently, Y/N gasped. Then crying his name, she gushed and came on his tongue, just like he’d wanted.
Her orgasm lasted longer than any she’d had before…not that she could recall even one in that moment. Her chest heaved with breaths as she tried to come down. She felt Harry’s body climb up before he laid down next to her.
“How do you feel, my angel?” Harry cooed.
With a deep, long sigh, Y/N gave a wide grin.
“Perfect. Absolutely perfect,” she replied, fluttering her eyelids open to reveal her crystal clear eyes.
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THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! xo
taglist: @daydreaming-laur, @musicforastylesrestaurant, @lillefroe, @be-with-me-so-happily (so sorry if I forgot anyone!!)
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gurugirl · 22 days ago
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The Mushroomer | friendly ghost!harry
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Summary: Y/n moves into a small house in the woods and she soon realizes the house is haunted. But it really turns out to be not so bad at all to have a ghost when he's as kind as the one living with her.
A/n: Harry's a sweet ghost - so nothing scary here. But it is a little sad (with a happy ending). Also, I took some artistic liberties on what ghosts can do with this one shot so you may need to suspend your disbelief a bit. xoxo
Word Count: 11.5k
Warning: smut, talk of depression & suicide, loneliness (Harry's a sad ghost but Y/n makes him happy)
✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨
Y/n had been living in the small house in the woods for only a couple of weeks when she started noticing strange things. She'd be typing on her laptop, cozy and focused when suddenly the tea kettle would whistle, breaking her out of the moment and scaring the life out of her. Somehow, not only would her tea kettle be on the burner but it was magically filled with water -both of which she had not done.
Or like the other evening when she was getting ready to settle into bed and she remembered she needed to turn off the lights in her kitchen so she grumpily got up and padded into the living room to see with her own eyes as her kitchen lights shut themselves off. It was nice to not have to walk all that way (which really wasn't all that far) but the creep factor of that happening was quite substantial.
But there were a lot of little things she'd been side-eyeing that made her wonder what was going on. However, she couldn't ignore it that morning. The way the blankets next to her were raised up as if someone were lying underneath them with her.
She had just woken up and her eyes were bleary and tired but the drizzle of morning light shining in her room made it clear that something was in the bed right next to her. Reaching toward the human-sized lump she blinked her eyes slowly and the moment her hand came into contact with the wool it suddenly deflated and dropped to the bed. She sat up and looked around the quiet space of her small room with her heart pounding in her chest.
"Is someone here?"
She was answered with silence. Pulling the blanket back she found exactly what she imagined. Nothing.
But then the kettle was going off and she jumped from the bed, quickly putting her slippers on her feet before dashing into the kitchen to shut off the burner.
"What is going on? Is someone here? Just…" She put her hands over her face in frustration as she groaned and when she pulled her hands away, there was her favorite mug sitting out for her already.
She remembered emptying the kettle and cleaning her mug and putting it away the night before. This was all impossible.
But she was in the mood for a hot cup of tea so she reluctantly grabbed the mug and that's when she saw her tea ball inside already filled with her favorite English breakfast tea leaves.
Pouring the hot water into her mug she peered around the kitchen, "Thank you. If there is someone there. This was nice. But… kind of creepy."
So, Y/n's day was off to an interesting start, and even though she'd been experiencing strange things and there was a small part of her that wondered if perhaps she had some kind of friendly ghost in her house, that day she was especially present and keeping her eyes open for anything odd.
Which led her to do some research on the old house she'd bought. She wondered who'd lived there before her. She only knew what was public. The property tax amount, and how many times the house had been bought and sold over the years (that number was surprisingly high). And that made her wonder if there was a connection. Had others been experiencing strange things in the home too? Had they been so spooked that they left, selling it to the next person to start the process all over again?
Of course, nothing that was happening was scary. Not really. It was strange, yes. It got her heart rate up a few times… but in the end, everything had been friendly or harmless gestures. Helpful even.
She didn't get much writing done that day, but rather she did find some interesting things online. It took her some time to get down to any names of people who'd lived in the house before (she didn't find many), but there was an old article from 1999 about a young professor who lived in town who died after going mushroom picking and eating the wrong kind. The article was more of an informative warning kind of story but there were some details that caught her interest.
The man would often forage for mushrooms being somewhat of an expert, but even with all of his knowledge he still mistook a bad one for a good one. Supposedly he died in his home all alone. And he was called by the name Harry. It didn't say where Harry lived exactly just that he was a professor from the area and he'd lived in the woods.
And that story led her to other smaller accounts of Harry the teacher and mushroomer who lived in the woods. She was so fascinated by the little bits of information she found that she hadn't realized the sun was already setting. She'd been at her desk reading what little she could find about this mysterious man who died in 1985, likely in the very house she was sitting in. He was 30 when he died.
"Mushrooms…" she spoke to herself as she recalled the mushrooms carved into the top of the banisters on the porch.
Closing her laptop she flicked on a lamp and then turned on her front porch light to double-check the wooden banisters and sure enough, mushrooms.
She placed her hand over the tops of them and bent to look at the work. It was crude, not carved by a wood maker but maybe an amateur. Perhaps Harry himself had carved them. Over the years, of course, the wood was aged and worn from the elements but it was clearly meant to be the shape of a mushroom.
She made a mental note to buy some varnish to cover them and make sure they didn't erode further. To keep the artist's work intact.
"I like these," she smiled and looked around herself, not sure if the ghost, or whatever it was, might be watching. She knew she might be losing her mind, entertaining such thoughts, but what else could it be? Surely something was afoot. Luckily, whatever it was, seemed to be kind and liked to get her tea started for her.
Y/n turned on her radio as she made cucumber and cheese sandwiches and hummed along. She'd peek behind herself every now and then in hopes of seeing something but that night nothing more came. Just when she was beginning to find the whole idea of having a ghost exciting, he suddenly wanted to be quiet.
✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨
She wanted to sit outside to write that day. Took her hot tea with a little honey that morning and an English muffin with a jammy egg and extra butter. Then she piled the wooden bench with blankets and a couple of pillows and spread herself along the space and began to write.
Y/n loved her solitude. Loved the quiet and the freedom to live her life as she wanted day to day. She might call herself lucky that she didn't have to work a traditional 9-5 job but being a writer and trying to keep on schedule with her publisher was quite difficult at times. But she wouldn't trade the stress of getting her work done on deadline for anything. Especially not when she got to enjoy such peace in her life.
She wasn't rich. Not even close, but she did alright for herself. She'd been able to buy the adorable little house in the woods all on her own after all. So she was grateful for her life.
Content.
When she heard rustling leaves coming from the side of the house she stopped typing and kept her ears perked to listen. It sounded like a large animal moving through from the woods.
Getting up slowly and as quietly as she could she carefully stepped toward the edge of the porch and looked down at the side of the house to see nothing but dried brown leaves.
She was still hoping to see her ghost. Hoping he'd show himself –if there was a ghost (though she was almost certain by then). But everything had been quiet since before she ate dinner the night before.
Pursing her lips, she was a little disappointed that she still had not seen anything substantial yet. But as she turned to walk back to her bench, there, atop her closed laptop was a mushroom. A freshly picked mushroom. She wasn't sure what kind it was but it was clearly wild with a bit of dirt still at its base.
Plucking it up between her pointer finger and thumb she laughed as she moved her eyes all around her, "Is this from you, Harry? Harry the Mushroomer? That's what they call you, you know."
She walked down the steps of her porch to the front yard with the mushroom in her hand and peered around, "Thank you for this, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable eating it. Didn't you die because you ate the wrong kind? Accidentally poisoned yourself?"
Y/n knew that if anyone could see her they'd think she was a crazy woman talking to herself like that. Luckily she had no visible neighbors.
"Well? Are you gonna show yourself or just keep doing little things like this? It's okay if this is it. I don't mind, but it's hard to talk to you when I can't hear or see you."
In almost an instant there was a figure at the limn of her eye and she turned to see a tall man looking at her. She waited for a moment before speaking as his appearance seemed to slowly fill in… like he was being painted to life before her eyes.
He pointed at her hand, "It's safe. I promise."
She looked down at the mushroom in her palm and then back at the man, "Are you… Harry?"
He stepped back, the lines around him seemed to fade and Y/n reached toward him, "Don't leave! Please. I'd like to talk if you can."
"I can't leave."
"You can't… Because you're stuck here? Attached to this house?"
He nodded, the vibrant color of his skin filling in again and she noticed his eyes were a soft green like the moss in the small pond up the path.
"I'm sorry. It must be hard to be stuck like that."
"It is."
"Did you carve those mushrooms there," she pointed toward the banister.
He nodded again. She didn't know if that's just how he was, quiet and shy. Or maybe it was because he was not used to interacting with people anymore.
"Um… thank you for the mushroom. And for the tea. You seem to like to help."
He looked like a real man standing in her front yard with his brown shoes in the dead leaves that were scattered about. He wore a cream-colored sweater and khaki pants.
"I do like to help. You can eat that. They were wrong."
"Who was wrong? About what?"
She watched him blink and look toward the porch before he motioned to the house, "May I?"
Y/n grinned, not quite believing what was happening but fascinated all at the same time, "Of course. It's your house, Harry."
He looked at her for a second, the smallest bit of a smile spread across his face before he nodded and began to move up toward the porch, Y/n following behind him.
She stopped and watched him walk toward the wooden bench and sit down, as if he were too weary to stand, though she never imagined ghosts feeling tired like that. He stared out toward the trees before he spoke, "I did it on purpose. It wasn't an accident."
She stitched her brows together and wrapped an arm around the wooden post at the top of the steps, "You poisoned yourself?"
He nodded, still staring toward the yard and trees with their changing leaves, "I wish I hadn't but I was sad and I wanted to stop feeling sad. And then everyone thought it was just an accident. A mistake. But it wasn't."
Y/n stepped toward him cautiously, not wanting to scare him off, "Can I sit next to you?"
He looked up at her before moving his mournful eyes back toward the woods. She took that as a yes, so she carefully sat on the bench next to her sad ghost.
"Why were you sad?"
He shook his head slowly, "Lonely. But it's much worse like this. No one wants to talk to a spirit. Everyone gets spooked."
"You can talk to me. I'm not spooked," she spoke quietly and he looked at her again, brows softening as she continued, "If you want we can be friends."
"Why?"
"Why what? Why am I not spooked? Why do I want to be your friend?" She raised her brows.
Harry didn't answer, though. He only kept his gaze on hers. She figured his why was to all of the above. He wasn't used to people anymore.
"Well… you've been very welcoming toward me since I moved in. Kind even. Getting my tea ready, that was clever," she laughed and watched as his shoulders seemed to relax, "That's not spooky. It was helpful. And I like that you wanted to be nice so I'd like to be your friend."
"Okay. Just know… I can't leave. So if you feel bothered the best I can do is step outside or into another room. People have tried having the house blessed. A priest came in once and tried to get me to leave. I wish I wasn't stuck here. I hoped that somehow that would work, with the priest, but it didn't. I'd rather be gone but instead, I'm trapped, halfway here and halfway there."
"So, you're the kind of ghost that can pick things up and –well you also look like a real man too. To me you do."
He shrugged, "I don't know. I guess. I've never met another ghost."
The pair sat on the porch together for nearly two hours. Y/n was intrigued and had quite a few questions but she also told him about herself. At one point Harry could see she was chilled so he handed her blanket from underneath him and helped her drape it over her shoulders.
She couldn't imagine how a man like him had found such a fate. Every now and then when he spoke she noted that he had a natural charisma, a charm that certainly had caught the eye of a few ladies at one time. He was smart and kind. And she couldn't help but notice how handsome he was too. But mostly he was sad. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him if he'd let her. Tell him he wouldn't be alone anymore and that it was going to be okay.
When she made dinner for herself she used the mushroom he'd picked and he told her where she could find more of them. That they could forage together if she were up for it. He made her tea and told her that she liked her tea the same way his mother did.
It felt like she was talking to someone she knew a long time ago and that they were just reconnecting after years of being apart. It took a bit to warm up but once they got going Harry was a regular conversationalist. She could picture him as a professor in front of students relating his biology teachings to a story about being chased down the street by a pack of wild dogs.
He was funny. Y/n liked Harry a lot. She hadn't really gotten any work done that day but there wasn't a part of her that regretted that.
When the sun had gone down she turned on all the lamps and let Harry sit in her comfy chair near the wood-burning stove (that he installed all by himself in 1981) and take his pick of book to read from her bookshelf.
She finally wound up getting a decent amount of writing done with Harry just there reading. It was nice to have a companion with her. She loved her peace and quiet but it was easy for her to adjust to Harry being there. Maybe because he had been there all along.
When she was getting tired and couldn't write anymore she looked over at Harry and noticed that he was still fully immersed in the book, "I think I'm gonna go to bed. Um… you can do whatever you want. And no need to hide or anything. Okay? I like you around."
"Oh. Yeah. Of course. I'll just be here. Won't bother you."
Y/n smiled at him as she stood up, "You're not a bother. I'll see you in the morning?"
He smiled and nodded at her, "Thank you."
✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨
"So you do sleep at all, Harry?" Y/n asked him as she poured hot water over her tea.
"Yes. That's mostly all I do. I like to be unconscious. Pretend I'm not here."
Y/n felt so sad hearing the way he spoke. Even in death, he seemed to be depressed, sad.
"And where do you normally sleep?"
He shrugged, the book he had been reading from the night before was in his hand, "Wherever. In the bed sometimes."
Y/n looked at him, squinting her eyes, "Next to me? Like you did the other morning?"
He looked down and nodded, "Sorry. I won't do it again. Just like to feel like I'm not alone and when you're sleeping I know I won't scare you because you won't even know I'm there. But," he looked up at her quickly, "I've never done anything weird. I would never. It was just to be closer is all. Not in a weird way-" he shook his head and grumbled something under his breath, "But that still sounds weird to you I'm sure. I meant no harm."
She reached her hand toward him, almost not expecting to feel anything but when her finger grazed the fabric of his sweater she was startled and stepped back. But the moment Harry realized she'd gotten spooked he was gone in an instant. The book he'd been holding lying on her tile countertop.
"No. Harry don't leave, please. I… just didn't expect to be able to touch your sweater. It's… I promise it wasn't because I was scared of you. Please come back. I'm sorry. This is all new for me and I was surprised is all."
She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see him, but he was hazy, not quite there, "I don't want to scare you. I'm used to just staying in the shadows, Y/n. I don't think I could bear having you be frightened of me."
Moving toward him slowly she put her palms facing out to him in conciliation, "I'm not frightened. I promise. I just didn't realize I'd feel it when I reached for you. I want you to stay. I like you here. I like your company. I like seeing you. And now I'll know better than to be surprised when I can feel the wool on your sweater next time."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded, putting her hands down to her side, "I'm sure. And I don't want you to be skittish around me either. You don't need to disappear like that. Let's just get used to one another okay? But I'm not frightened. I think I already prefer you to most people I've met, in fact."
That got him smiling and it almost appeared like he was blushing as he looked down at the floor, a dimple scored into his cheek.
Quite the handsome ghost when he was smiling. He blinked his eyes as his form became tangible again, corporeal.
She took a deep breath and reached for him again, slowly that time, placing her palm up for him to reach out toward. She watched as he lifted his hand and gradually pushed it forward until she could feel the whispy brush of his skin on her fingertips before he pressed his palm over hers. Like a real person, with skin and everything.
"I can feel you. Can you feel me too?" She asked.
He nodded as his grin spread, "Yes. That's nice."
"It is nice. See? Nothing to worry about."
"Nothing to worry about," he repeated, his eyes on hers.
"Can we rewind? Go back to what we were just talking about before I got all jumpy? About you sleeping in the bed?"
"Okay."
She moved her fingers around his hand and squeezed it gently, "If you ever need to be close, it's okay if you come to sleep in my bed with me. This is your house too, Harry. It was your house first. I don't want you to feel lonely in your home. Just because you're… well, a spirit, that doesn't mean you deserve a life of isolation. I'm your friend now. Okay?"
"Okay. Thank you."
Y/n found that having Harry around somehow inspired her and kept her focused. She'd gotten more work done than she had in a very long time. Perhaps it was just that there was another presence there with her, watching and paying attention. Somehow it seemed to keep her on task. He was quiet most of the day. He'd read or take walks outside and bring mushrooms back when he found them. In the evenings they'd chat and she often caught herself wishing he was a real live man because if she were being very honest he had all the qualities she'd want in a partner. But on top of that, he was tortuously handsome. And it seemed the more she knew of him the more attractive he was.
He was quite humorous at times, a natural storyteller. And it seemed he enjoyed making her smile. He listened to her talk as well and remembered every detail of every word she spoke. Like she was worth listening to. It's something she didn't often find with other people.
Sleeping next to him at night was also increasingly difficult as now there was a sentient and conscious being lying next to her when she was feeling a bit lustful (as did happen on occasion inevitably). But there was little she could do to satiate herself in her bed when Harry was there too.
So she wound up changing her schedule slightly, to have her showers at night and find relief under the warm stream of water before she climbed into bed with him, who took up a lot more space than one would assume a ghost would.
He was always perfectly polite. Too polite maybe. But then again she had no idea how that would work with him anyway. Yes, she could feel his skin and touch his clothes and once had the pleasure of running her fingers into his hair… but certainly they couldn't… get intimate?
Though, she'd imagined how his lips might feel or those big hands on her hips or her waist. She'd imagine his eyes peering at her as he undressed (she'd never seen him remove any clothing but she often wondered what was under his clothes). She knew it was wrong. Felt guilty for thinking about him like that.
But she was a warm-blooded woman with certain needs that every other woman had just the same. And Harry, ghost or not, was easy to look and he was even easier to trust.
He was sweet.
And she was ovulating.
So even taking care of herself in her shower didn't quite scratch the itch by the time she got into the bedroom to find Harry already sitting with the blankets over his lap and his back against the headboard and his nose in a book. It was like having a really hot friend who lived with you who you knew you could never do anything like that with.
"Feel better?" He asked her as he closed the book and watched her take off her sweater.
She didn't remember telling him she hadn't felt good before her shower. In fact, he hadn't ever asked her before if she felt better after her shower so it made her wonder if he was paying closer attention than she realized. Could he tell that she had a change in mood? That her hormones were fluctuating? Surely not.
"Um, I think a little better," she smiled and slid into the bed, wishing she could climb into his lap and lift up his sweater to feel his skin. She was curious about him and wondered if there was more to explore with him. Was there anything under the clothes? Did he ever have those natural human urges he likely had when he was living?
"You seem a little tense. Would you like a tea? I think camomile is good for helping you calm."
She sighed, "I'm just… yeah. A tea sounds good. Maybe that'll help."
Harry left her alone in her room and she watched as the light in the kitchen gently spread out and illuminated the hallway off the bedroom. With a few minutes to herself, she reached into her soft night pants and rubbed over her panties. It was risky and she knew he might return any minute but she was hidden by the covers over her lap.
And it felt good. Obviously, the shower had been nice but there was something about doing it in her own bed on a dry surface that was her favorite. And she was already wetting the material of her underwear as she pushed the fabric aside and pressed her fingers directly over her clit. She could be quick.
A quiet gasp fell from her lips when she began hitting the right spot, fingers quickly swiping back and forth, body heating, heart pounding.
But then he was there at the door with a steaming mug in his hands, standing still like he'd been the one to see a ghost. She was covered up but by the way he was looking at her…
She slowly moved her hand away and smiled, "Uh, that was fast. Thank you."
He placed the mug on the table next to her bed quietly and looked away from her, "I can give you some privacy. I'm sorry."
Oh. He knew what she was up to. She'd been so stupid to think she could rub one out fast enough without him realizing.
"No, I'm sorry. I… since you've been around, or since I knew you were here I have to kind of… God, I'm embarrassed," she put her face in her hands and groaned.
"Don't feel embarrassed. It's normal. Nothing shameful about any of that. I was a biology professor after all."
Y/n looked up at him, "You're always too nice, Harry. I feel so awful. You probably don't even… well… you know. Things are different for you now than when you were alive?"
He cocked his head to the side, "Things are different yes. But if you mean in terms of feeling stirred, aroused… I can -still. But it's been a very long time."
She swallowed, unable to quite comprehend how that was possible, "So… you, as a ghost, can like feel that way? Does your body react as well?"
He puffed out a laugh and looked down at the wood floors below his feet, "Yes. Mostly. I still have all the feelings and emotions within my consciousness as when I was alive. And yes, I feel it and it can be visible if I let it."
Visible. That did nothing to quell her growing curiosity.
"That's… I guess I don't really know much about spirits, but I'm surprised."
"To be honest, I don't know much about myself like this either. I just know I still feel emotions and physically can feel…. excited. And that I can only go as far as the perimeter of the land this house is on. If I step past the boundary I wind up back inside the house. You're the first person I've really interacted with. Everyone else was terrified. I don't blame them."
"You can come back if you want," she patted the spot on the bed next to her. "If I didn't make you uncomfortable. I'm good now I think. Sorry to make this weird."
"Are you sure? I can leave for a bit–"
"No. No, I'm over it now," she took a sip of the tea he'd made her. He always seemed to know exactly how to make her tea.
Harry pulled the blankets back and settled into bed next to her before she flicked off the light on her lamp.
"I'm sorry I interrupted."
"Don't be sorry. You did nothing wrong."
She wished she could ask him to hold her. Just to be in his arms, to know what that would feel like. And she was sure that if she asked he would because he was so kind. But he'd just caught her playing with herself and she felt like a pervert and she was sure he'd wonder what her intentions were. Hell, she wasn't even sure of her own intentions at that point.
So, she closed her eyes and tried to push down how embarrassed she felt and the subtle ache between her thighs. Perhaps she'd get on birth control so she wouldn't ovulate anymore. She felt out of control, led by her id, her hormones calling the shots.
Eventually, she found sleep, and for a while, she forgot all about her misdeed and her aroused state in exchange for much-needed rest.
But upon waking she found that she'd snuggled into Harry tightly. Her cheek smushed against the sweater over his chest and his arms were placed around her back. It felt like waking up in the arms of a real man. It was soft and cozy. She felt warm and safe.
She knew he could sleep. He told her as much so she wasn't sure if he was awake or not which was her reason to keep still and bask in the moment. As much as she loved her solitude, it hadn't dawned on her until then how much she missed human contact. It was lovely to feel him so close like that. He felt solid as if he had a real live body.
Slowly the light from the sun began to brighten her room as the morning grew later. She probably should get up but it was so hard to peel herself away from Harry. Not only did she not want to wake him, she wanted to enjoy him holding her for as long as she could.
"If you need to get up you can."
She startled, tilting her head back to look up at him, "I didn't know you were awake. I didn't want to -wake you."
He was cute. His face half-covered with her pillow as he looked down at her, "I know. But I am awake. You can stay here like this for as long as you like, though. I don't mind."
Harry adjusted his face into the pillow, pink lips set in a soft smile as he kept his eyes on hers. He was beautiful and she could think of nothing better to do in that moment than to reach her hand up to his neck and stretch up toward him so she could give him a quick peck on his mouth.
Maybe it was her sleepy brain or just the soft moment they were enveloped in together. Perhaps it was the way he was looking at her that did it. But whatever made her do it felt like something she needed to do. To feel.
And then he kissed her back. It was like kissing a man. A real live man. His palms slid over her back softly, upward to her shoulder blades as he continued moving his lips with hers. Gentle and slow. Sleepy.
It did nothing to make her hormones calm. Which just led to her sliding her hand down his sturdy chest and to his hip. She wouldn't take it too far, she was just curious what the skin under his sweater would feel like as she edged the tips of her fingers upward and he was still real underneath too. Taut skin and sinew over muscle and bone. Moving her palm higher up his stomach she found herself quite pleasantly surprised by the way he felt under her hand.
But he stopped abruptly, sitting up and clambering out of bed, "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did that. You… I'm really sorry."
She looked up at him from her spot on the bed and blinked her tired eyes, "Why are you sorry? I kissed you first."
"You did?" He shook his head, "I thought I started it. I'm not used to this. I don't know what I'm doing." He ran his hands into his hair and stepped around the bed toward the door, "I'm sorry. I think I need to… just some time to think."
She watched him walk away out of sight, blindsided by what had just happened. Of course, the whole thing was wild. It was insane even. He was a ghost. It wasn't like they could be together. She wished things were different, she really did. She needed to pull herself together. Harry had real feelings, he'd told her as much.
Taking a warm shower she tried to reason with herself about what had happened. But the more she considered it all, the more she wondered what a future would look like if she were to fall in love with a ghost. She didn't want to indulge in those thoughts but she couldn't help it. She didn't like being around people and rarely needed to leave her little house. Would it be so bad to just be with Harry? He was lonely and needed companionship just like she did and she really enjoyed his company. He seemed to be the perfect companion, the only issue being that he was technically dead. And she had no idea how a physical relationship would work but she was beginning to think, after that kiss, that was in fact possible.
She could stay "single" forever and if anyone asked why she never married or dated she'd just say she preferred to be alone. No one would need to know about Harry.
Y/n shook her head as she dried her hair. She was losing it. Why was her mind going there? Yes, maybe she was a little lonely at times, and he was kind and nice to talk to, and he was clearly a very attractive… specter. But he wasn't a living man.
Opening up her laptop after having made herself a tea, she tried to ignore the pit in her stomach. Harry hadn't come back. Or if he had he wasn't showing himself to her. Had it really been all that bad for them to kiss? Probably. She shouldn't have done it. And now he was the one who was spooked. She couldn't blame him. It'd been a long time since he'd had a person to even talk to who knew of his existence and the one that he finally does show himself to winds up developing silly feelings for him and wants to kiss.
Y/n hardly got any writing done that day. Harry stayed away. The house was quiet. She didn't want to push him to show himself or to talk to her. If he needed space, she'd give it to him.
✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨
She figured that the worst part about having a ghost was knowing he was there but not knowing where he was or what he was seeing her do. If he was even watching. Harry didn't return that first night nor the following day. He didn't sleep next to her in bed and he didn't prepare her tea.
She started to wonder if he was going to come back at all.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I hope you can forgive me and come back. I promise I'll never be so reckless again. I just had a lapse in judgment."
Her phone rang, startling her from her speech to her ghost. She had an inkling he was there and listening.
"Hello?"
It was her cousin Sil. She had promised to bring over a small kitchen table, something Y/n didn't have when she first moved into the house.
"Oh, tonight? Sure. Um… yeah. I'll be here."
She would be happy to have a kitchen table and chairs finally but she wasn't really up for company. Hopefully, Sil would be in and out quickly, though getting to her house in the woods was quite the drive.
"Harry, my cousin is coming to drop off some furniture. I'm just letting you know," she looked around the space and the room was empty and quiet still. Her heart dropped as she sighed.
But she had to stop moping and pull herself together before Sil arrived. She put on something a little nicer and swiped a little mascara onto her lashes before spritzing herself with her favorite perfume. Then she filled her kettle with fresh water and pulled down a couple of mugs and plates and then sliced up strawberries and cantaloupe.
She kept herself busy until she heard a knock at her door and put on a smile before opening it to see not only Sil, but a man wearing a thick flannel just behind her.
"This is Memo. He offered to help with the table. It's kind of heavy."
"Oh, of course! Thank you! And it's nice to meet you, Memo."
Y/n propped open the door and then she and Sil got to work carrying in the chairs as Memo shimmied the table inside on his own. When everything was set up in her little kitchen she was quite pleased with the way it looked.
"I love it. Thank you so much, Sil," she pulled her cousin in for a hug and then reached for Memo's arm and squeezed, "And I appreciate your help. Thank you."
"Your house is amazing. Ever get lonely living out here by yourself?"
Y/n looked up at the man and shrugged, "Um… not really. I like the peace out here. It's great for inspiration."
"She's a writer," Sil interjected, "Already has two published books and one on the way. She's the famous one I was talking about."
Y/n laughed and put her hand up, "I'm not famous. That's an exaggeration…"
"Well, she's a published author and her first book sold almost, what… like 50,000 copies?"
"That's average at best. I'm not… I'm lucky but I'm not anywhere near famous," Y/n looked at Memo and then at her cousin. "It pays the bills. And I love it, so…" She turned toward her kitchen counter, wanting to change the subject, "Would you guys care for some tea or coffee? I've got fruit sliced up as well?"
"I could go for some tea. Thank you, Y/n."
Memo smiled at her softly and her cousin raised her brows with a nod, "Sure. We'll stay a little longer."
Y/n prepared tea and placed the fruit and plates on her new kitchen table before joining Sil and Memo to sit. She learned that Memo was Sil's neighbor and when Y/n commented that she thought they were cute together Sil quickly corrected her cousin, "Oh, we're not… No," she laughed. "He's just a friend."
"I'm as single as they come," he winked at Y/n before taking another sip of his tea.
She found that to be a strange thing to say. Was he suggesting something? Y/n didn't know but she definitely wasn't interested. Her mind was still on Harry and wondering where he was, if he was watching everything.
When the fruit was all eaten and their mugs were dry Y/n got up to place everything in her sink and Memo followed, "I can help. Let me wash the dishes."
She looked back at Sil who was grinning, a raised brow in her direction. Y/n shook her head and rolled her eyes. Maybe it was a setup. She'd be nice but there was no way in hell–
"What the… shit!" Memo stepped back from the sink quickly and turned, his arms out exasperatedly.
He had water all over the front of his flannel and Y/n covered her mouth to hide her laugh.
"Something just… I turned on the water and it was like the stream just sprayed out right at me. Got all over my shirt!"
Sil stepped passed Memo and turned off the water then turned it back on to check, "Seems okay now. Maybe it was just air in the pipe or something?"
"Sorry. That has never happened. Would you like a towel?" Y/n offered.
"Yeah. If it's no bother."
When Y/n walked into the hallway to grab a towel she felt someone behind her. She brightened up as she turned, hoping to see Harry but found the other male standing there with her, plucking at his shirt.
"Here," she handed him a white towel, "I'm really sorry about your shirt."
Memo nodded as he dabbed at himself, "Yeah it's just water. My shirt'll be fine. Just a little embarrassed."
Y/n laughed, "Embarrassed? Why?"
"Got my shirt all well and startled everyone. Especially in front of a pretty girl. Little bit of a hit to my ego."
Y/n's brows stitched together, "Oh. Well, don't worry. I really don't care–"
"Would you… Well, we're about to leave and I thought maybe I could give you my number or something?"
There was no way she was going to call Memo or entertain anything more with him. But she decided to play dumb and just go along with it. She'd take his number and then lose it. Not that he wasn't a good-looking guy. And he was probably perfectly nice (he seemed nice). In a different world, one where she was more outgoing and liked to meet new people, maybe she'd actually be interested.
"Uh…"
Suddenly the hallway light flicked on and her TV came on in the living room, volume all the way up. The lamp in the corner flashing on and off and then on again.
Y/n quickly slid past Memo to turn her television off, one hand cupping her ear as she aimed the remote at her TV.
Sil looked spooked as she stepped out of the kitchen and then Memo suddenly rushed in, tripping as he cursed, "What the fuck?"
Everyone stood in shock staring at one another when all the lights in the house went off and Memo gasped, "Shit! What is that?!" The sound of someone running into her coffee table and something slamming into the wall had Y/n rushing to flick her lights back on.
Memo was swinging into the air on his ass next to the wall, "Something just pushed me against the wall!"
Sil put her hand out to help Memo stand up and then looked back at Y/n in worry, "Is this place like… haunted? What was that?"
She shook her head, "I don't know. You guys should probably leave, though. I'll clean up. I'm really sorry about this."
Memo stepped toward Y/n, "You need to come with us. It's not safe. It felt like someone grabbed my shirt and pushed me… slammed me! Whatever it is, is very strong and very angry."
Shaking her head she looked from her cousin to Memo, "No. I'll be fine. I promise."
It took a little convincing for Sil and Memo to accept that Y/n wasn't going to be leaving with them with Sil pouting and giving her a long hug outside, "Are you sure? I'm going to call you when we get back. I'm really worried about what just happened in there."
"I'll be fine. Okay? You don't need to worry about anything."
When they were down the street Y/n let out a breath and closed her eyes. She knew exactly what had happened in there.
It was Harry. Her gentle, easily spooked ghost, who had somehow flipped a switch and scared the shit out of Memo and her cousin.
When she stepped inside she straightened out her coffee table and looked around the living room, "Harry? Please come out and talk to me. I need to see you, okay? I'm not mad about what you just did but I think we need to talk about it. About why you did that."
She was startled when she turned and there he was. She had expected to need to plead with him for a little longer.
"I'm sorry."
Looking up at him Y/n shook her head, "Why did you do that? Was it because you didn't like him? Memo?"
He nodded, "I didn't like how he was looking at you when you'd turn away. Like you were a piece of meat or something. He was flirting with you."
She smiled, "You didn't like him flirting with me?"
"It's just that… I don't know," Harry turned and ran his fingers into his hair, "I'm stuck. I don't get to have anything good but people like… Memo," he spat the name like it was bitter in his mouth, "Get to enjoy whatever they want." He turned to look at her again, "He could have you if he wanted. It's so easy for him."
"Well, you're wrong. He can't have me if I'm not interested, which I'm not. Not my type."
"He's not?"
She shook her head, "No."
Harry groaned and looked down at the floor, "Doesn't matter anyway, does it? No matter how I feel about anything, about you… I don't get to have you. I don't get to fall in love and live happily ever after. I've made it so that I'll suffer in sadness forever. This is what I deserve for what I did to myself. Might as well watch you fall in love with another man while I'm at it."
Stepping toward him, she slowly reached her hand out toward his, "Hey, look at me."
She swore it was like looking at a real man. His eyes were so green and so sad as he placed his gaze on hers. "Is that what you want? That we could be –together?"
"Doesn't matter what I want."
She took his hand in hers, "Yes it does. It matters. You matter to me. And to be honest," she shrugged, keeping her eyes on his, "As long as I'm here and you're here, I don't think I need anyone else."
Frown lines carved in between his eyes as he looked down at her hand, "You can't say that. You don't know. I can't give you what you need."
"And what is it you think I need that you can't give me?"
"A real relationship. I couldn't meet your family or… anyone. I couldn't –touch you. Not really. I know this doesn't feel the same," he squeezed at her fingers. "It's not warm. It's not real. And if you wanted to have a family… well obviously I can't give you that either."
"Your hand feels pretty real to me, Harry. It's not quite as warm as if you were flesh and blood but you're firm against my skin. I feel you. And that kiss… I can't stop thinking about how nice it was. I liked that. I like how you did it."
"Really?"
A wider grin spread over her face as she watched the edge of his lip quirk upward, "And I've never wanted kids anyway so I don't care about that."
"You don't?"
Shaking her head she smiled, "Never. But we haven't known each other all that long so you wouldn't have known that about me. You also wouldn't have known that I don't really like going out unless I have to. It's why I bought this house. To be away from people. But I do get lonely so when I met you it felt like a special gift."
"When you moved in it did feel different for me too. I wanted to be your friend right off."
"See? We can be friends. We can maybe even be more. I know it's weird probably… I'm not particularly normal, though. But… I was already imagining what it might be like. You and me. It's not perfect but life isn't perfect and maybe we can find some happiness together."
Harry had been jealous of Memo, Y/n had figured that much. He hadn't really hurt him, just scared him. And in a way, she was glad that he was spooked and left relatively quickly so she didn't have to take his number and then sit in that awkward moment where she didn't give him hers back or have to explain later to her cousin why she never called him.
What would she use as her reason? Well, she'd probably simply just say she wasn't interested. But knowing Sil, there would be some pushback – You don't even really know him. He's the sweetest! Give him one date…
The real explanation, which she'd be unable to express, would be that she had already met someone and she wanted to find out what would happen with it. That the ghost that lived in her house with her, the one who'd pushed Memo, was warmer, sweeter, smarter, and more handsome than Memo by leaps and bounds.
Not that Memo wasn't a catch. But Y/n liked Harry much more. Even if he was a ghost. And maybe him being a ghost was better for her in a way. Of course, she was insane. Perhaps if she were a more well-adjusted person with healthy relationships she'd be interested in living men. But most men made her uncomfortable.
"What if –we just see?" Y/n placed her hand on his arm over his sweater as she kept his hand in hers, "Would that be okay with you?"
"I just don't think I can satisfy you how you need."
"So far you've done a great job of making me happy. I haven't felt this way about someone before. It's unconventional, yes, I know. But so what?"
He turned to face her, "So what…" he mimicked her words before he moved his hand to place at her hip. She could feel the weight of it on her side, "I can kiss you again?"
"Yes, Harry. Please do."
He leaned down slowly before she felt his nose bump into hers and then his lips press over her mouth. And it was sweet and emotional. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close as if he realized suddenly he couldn't let her get away.
It was different than kissing someone with skin and warm blood and saliva on their tongue. But she could feel it. Feel him pressed into her, his body his mouth, his hands on her back. She could feel his neck on her palm and it might have just been better than any other kiss ever. Because it was Harry she was kissing.
She felt him open his mouth and close his lips around her bottom lip, felt him poke his tongue against hers… so different but still it was real and so nice. He was conscious and he was kissing her and holding her.
Y/n pushed her hand up his neck and let her fingers card through his hair, whispy silk between her fingers. Every bit of him had mass even if it didn't feel quite the same, it was so close and that only excited her, made her insides light up and liquify.
She could tell he really seemed to enjoy it too, small moans fell from his throat as he brought a hand up to her jaw and kissed downward to her neck. Like he knew what he was doing. But he did know, didn't he? He was once a man, living on earth, meeting women and no doubt had at least some experience.
Y/n couldn't imagine that someone who looked like Harry would have trouble in that department. So he knew what he was doing.
And when he moved against her hips she felt a solid lump under his pants poking against her. Even though he said that it could be visible and that he could feel aroused, it still surprised her. Especially that she could feel it. A decent-sized lump. And she wouldn't classify that as just a lump either… more like the bulge of a man who was nicely endowed.
Her body was hot. She needed more. Gripping onto his back she pasted herself against him, letting him curve around her as he kissed her neck and her jaw. He was better than any man she'd met already. Sensual and full of emotion.
When he placed his mouth back against hers she realized that her back was pressed into the wall. She hadn't even realized they'd moved at all. With a moan, she raised her leg and hitched her thigh over his hip. Part of her thought that might deter him or make him stop. Maybe he'd be too shy or he'd tell her they didn't need to do that, but what happened instead was that he went in harder, hips glued to hers as he reached down to grasp her thigh to keep it in place.
And now the swollen bulge was pressed over her dress right where her pelvis was and he rocked against her.
"Oh god… Harry…." her words were mushed into his mouth as he kept kissing her.
"Y/n…"
"Let's go to bed."
Again, she thought perhaps it might be too much for him. That he'd try and slow down or maybe he'd back away… But she gasped when he picked her up and held her under her thighs and brought her to the bedroom. Like he'd just been waiting for permission and the shy and conflicted man from earlier was all but gone.
Her head was placed on her pillow, with his palm under her neck as he smothered her mouth with his. Y/n moved her legs apart for him and he settled against her, using his free hand to clasp over her hip.
It felt so good to be with him that way. It was exciting and soft and it made her insides ache. Reaching down for the button on his trousers he parted from the kiss and looked down at her hands as she pulled his pants open.
"I don't know if… it's gonna be different. I haven't done this before. Like this."
"It's okay. Will it feel good for you?"
He nodded, "Yes. I can still feel like that. Just don't know what'll be like for you."
Y/n bit her lip and pushed herself up, "I'm gonna take off my dress. Okay?"
"Okay. Should I… I don't know what to do."
It was funny that only moments before he was carrying her to the bed but now he was unsure of himself once again. She figured it would take some getting used to, "Can your clothes come off? Is it possible?"
"Yes. Should I take them off?"
Y/n smiled and cupped his cheek, "If you want to. If you want to find out what it'll feel like with me. It's up to you."
He nodded and pulled at his sweater, bringing it up over his head and Y/n reached for his torso, smoothing her hand up to his pecs and shoulders. He was fit and looked strong. Tattoos on his chest and his arms. It wasn't what she expected exactly. She had seen the peek of tattoos on his hand but hadn't imagined he had many more. She'd been wrong.
Lifting herself she slid her dress off and unplucked her bra to get rid of the uncomfortable thing, tossing them to the floor as she watched him bring his pants down. He had on blue boxer shorts. She didn't want to let her mind go there, but she wondered if those were the last clothes he wore as a living person. Most likely.
He looked at her, searching her face and then his gaze dropped over her body. Her breasts, her tummy, her panties. She reached for his hand to place on her breast, "What does it feel like?"
Harry blinked his eyes closed, "It feels real." He reached up with his other hand to cup her opposite side and softly massaged, opening his eyes to watch as his palms smushed and slid over her skin.
Y/n inhaled as she let him group and knead. The gentle fondling was perfect.
Harry adjusted his position, bending his knees as he leaned in and looked at her, mouth nearing her nipple, "Can I?"
Nodding she placed her hand in his hair when she felt his mouth on her tit. She could hardly tell the difference. It wasn't wet and warm but his mouth was on her. He switched sides and focused on her nipple.
"Fuck… Harry that feels good."
Looking up at her he pulled away, "Does it?"
"Yes. You're really good. I like this. How do you feel?"
"I like it too. A lot. I feel…" he shook his head, lips parted, "Like a man. Like I'm alive again."
Y/n reached down for his thigh and ran her hand upward, "Can I touch you too?"
He looked down at his lap, blue boxer shorts tented from his erection as he nodded and shifted to his knees so he could bring them down and off.
And fuck if he just didn't look completely real. Like a live man with a big cock and soft green eyes looking at her for approval.
Y/n got to her knees and dragged her hands down his chest and over the silky bits of hair, "You're very handsome. I've never seen a more attractive man, Harry. Everything about you…"
When her palm found the underside of him there was weight to it. Bulk. She was having a difficult time understanding it all. That he wasn't flesh, nor alive, but that he was conscious and he was solid. The moment her palm dragged upward on his length, fingers curling around his shaft he sputtered a deep moan.
"Feels good?"
He nodded, "Just like when I… from a long time ago."
"When you were still alive? When you had a woman in your bed with you?"
He nodded again, "Yes."
"Good. I want to make you feel good."
He moaned again as she worked her fist over him. He was long and he had girth. A very nice cock for a ghost, she laughed to herself about how her inner dialogue was working itself out.
"I want to make you feel good too," he placed a hand at her hip over her cotton panties and she smiled at him. Of course, he did. Harry seemed like a giver. That much she did know.
Releasing him from her hand, she peeled her panties off and Harry quickly pushed her down to the bed and tucked in between her legs, hands sliding up her inner thighs, "You're so pretty."
Y/n giggled and turned her eyes to her ceiling. No one would ever believe she was doing something like this. Hell, she hardly believed it herself. When she looked back at Harry she pulled his hand to bring up to her center, "You can touch if you want. In fact, you can do whatever you like. I trust you."
His lips parted as he grazed his fingertips through her labia and kept his eyes on her pussy. Soft strokes up and down like he was inspecting until he slid his pointer finger up to her clit and looked into her eyes as he started to circle, "You're getting wet. That feels good?"
A laugh puffed from her lips as she nodded, "It feels so good. You make me wet, Harry."
His brows pinched together as he leaned over her body to kiss her, fingers still gently circling her bud. She reached down to stroke him in her hand, making him moan into her mouth.
He thrust into her hand softly as he pressed a finger inside of her. She inhaled sharply, "Yes…"
"Yeah?" He panted against her mouth, finger tucked inside of her thrusting as she pumped him the best she could with the angle.
And he might have been a ghost but when he added another finger the gushy sound her pussy made couldn't be mistaken. As if something solid was plunging into her. Which made her certain his dick would be the same. Better.
Pushing at his chest he backed away from the kiss as she pulled his shaft, angling his tip at her mons, just above where he was pumping his fingers into her, "You can if you want. I think it'll feel good."
He didn't say anything but when he pulled his fingers out and grasped around his cock, hand over hers he kept his pupils pinned to her eyes as he dragged his tip through her pussylips and down to her opening.
The moment he began to penetrate they both dropped their mouths open. It felt just like it should. Two people connecting with their bodies and their emotions. The friction felt different inside of her but she could feel the weight and the circumference of him slowly sliding into her walls.
As he blew out a harsh breath, she could feel it on her neck. It wasn't humid nor warm, but she felt the draft against her skin as he buried in.
"Can you feel me?"
Y/n reached her hands around his back, "I can feel all of you. Keep going."
He dropped his hips down against hers, pushing himself in and then easing back, dragging through her insides deliciously.
"I can feel how wet it is around me. So warm… Squeezing…"
She panted as she placed her feet flat on the mattress and rolled up against him, her clit pressing into his pelvis as he rocked into her so gently. So easy and so soft, but the swollen length inside of her was anything but soft. She felt every inch of it as he worked in and pulled back.
"It's so hard. Harry, you feel so good," she mewled before he pushed his lips against hers again.
Her old bed creaked in time with his languid pace. He held her tight, one hand at the back of her head and the other wrapped under her back as he fucked himself into her warm, gummy channel.
As fantastic as Y/n felt she imagined for him it was even better. He could feel her temperature and the moisture of her arousal, he could feel the tightness of her around him as he drove into her and surely he could feel her heart pounding in her chest.
She was in heaven. Y/n would swear off men forever if she could have this with Harry. They could have soft, lazy days together in silence, go mushroom hunting together in the afternoons, and have deep conversations about the world and biology and books they'd read… then go to bed together every night with full hearts. She'd be satisfied with him. It didn't matter what people thought of her. The strange woman who moved into the woods to live alone, never married or had kids, never had an interest in dating…
He grunted as he began to plunge in harder. He was feeling it. Just like any man would. His release, whatever that might look like for a ghost, was coming. She lifted her hips against his thrusts as he wound his lips around her slowly. The faster he moved his hips and worked into her the louder her mattress squeaked under her.
She gasped as he ground into her, swiveling his hips and groaning into her mouth, "Right there…" She panted.
If he kept his pelvis against her clit she'd come, "Don't stop. Just like that…"
So he rocked against her like she wanted, pelvis pasted to her clit as he tucked in deeper and filled her insides with his sturdy mass. She felt his hand move down, fingers wrapping around the back of her neck as she ran her tongue against his.
With their bodies glued together, Harry's big cock stuffing her and his hips down against hers she began to shake. He flexed his glutes and thighs as he continued sliding into her, raking against her walls, patting against her softly when her metal headboard started to hit her wall with every other plunge.
Harry stopped abruptly but Y/n draped a leg over his low back and pressed her hands into his bum, "Keep going. I'm gonna come…"
Shifting against her he prodded into her guts that time, making her hiss as he dragged his lips down to her neck.
"Oh fuck…" she moaned into the dark room as he plowed into her tummy, sucking on her delicate skin between panted breaths.
She loved how it felt to have him curled around her like that, arm holding her close, hips pressed against hers as his thighs pushed against the underside of her own. She loved how he did it so tenderly but so needy.
Because it'd been a long long time since he'd had sex. The poor guy had been moping in the shadows for so long, he deserved a warm pussy to enjoy. He deserved her.
When she started to come her lips parted and she sobbed his name. She also hadn't had sex in a long time. Not with another person anyway. And Harry was just as much a man (more so even) than what she'd had in the past. He grunted against her neck as she arched into him, her pussy clenching and sucking him in as she released around him.
He whimpered and then moaned loudly and suddenly he pulled his arm from under her back and took both hands to hold her hips down as he pounded into her, the frame of her bed slapping into the wall and creaking loudly as he came. His big cock was pushing into her depth, bulbous head dragging into her guts as he orgasmed. He gasped and panted as he rutted in and then stilled his hips as he bottomed out inside of her.
She rather enjoyed the way he manhandled her at the end. Holding her down so he could fuck into her to finish himself off like that. The gruff noises he was making and the pinch of pain she felt from having something so hard and so big drill into her tummy was actually quite pleasant. Satisfying.
And just as if he were alive and needed oxygen in his lungs, his chest was heaving as he looked down at he, letting go of her hips, pulling her up into his arms, and dragging her into his lap.
"Are you okay?" He asked her as he kissed her cheek and placed his palm on the back of her head.
She wrapped her arms around his torso, "I'm so good. That was so good, Harry."
He looked at her, holding her face in his hands, "It was?"
Nodding she ran her fingers up his back, "The best."
✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨
Y/n would have loved to tell everyone about her boyfriend. About how happy she was and how amazingly well they got along. But she couldn't. Because if she did some of the more nosy ones (her mom for example) would want to meet him. Would want to invite him over for a family dinner so everyone could meet him.
And when she'd have to tell her mom that he wouldn't be joining them for dinner she'd be convinced that he was a lowlife. A deadbeat. Which was the furthest thing from the truth.
No. He's not a flake. He's a ghost.
So, she just told everyone she was happiest single. That men were garbage anyway (that was true).
She was happy. And so was Harry.
"I feel like this is what I was supposed to do. Meet you in the afterlife. Well, my afterlife. So our timelines would fit together."
Y/n grinned and dropped a mushroom into her basket, "I think so too. We were meant to meet, weren't we?"
Harry smiled and looked up at the sun poking through the canopy of the trees above, "It's all I ever wanted."
Y/n took his hand and looked up at the trees with him. Most of them had lost their leaves as the weather was turning chillier. This was the time of year, Harry said, that his favorite mushrooms were out. Chicken of the woods and oyster. She was going to saute them with butter and eat with the pot of lentil soup she had started before they went out to forage.
Squeezing his hand and leaning into his arm she turned her gaze from the trees to her handsome ghost, "It's all I ever wanted too."
✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨
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harrywavycurly · 12 days ago
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I know SC girl made Harry dress up to hand out candy at her house tonight 🎃🥹
Hii loves!! Oh she totally made him dress up, so I hope you enjoy this totally small blurb about it!💖
-find all things Southern Comfort here✨
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“Sugar!” Harry doesn’t even mind the fact that you’re shouting for him from the kitchen while he’s just a few feet away from you sat on the couch in your living room, he just finds himself smiling at the way your voice sounds when you’re excited. “The door!” He just nods as he gets up and reaches for the candy bowl that you’ve placed on the coffee table, the very one he’s been sneaking little treats out of all night while you’ve been off baking a few new batches of cookies for him to take to the studio tomorrow.
“M’on it sweetheart.” He assures you as he takes a step towards the front door with the bowl in his hand and he thinks he’s just about made it without you noticing something missing from his attire but he’s quickly mistaken when he hears you clear your throat. He looks over his shoulder and sees you pointing to the very thing he purposely took off and placed out of sight after the last visitor, hoping you wouldn’t notice but of course you did because you notice everything, that’s one of those teacher things Harry has come to learn.
“Forgetting something honey?” Harry just shakes his head as he rubs his lips together while taking a step towards the living room and grabbing the white sheet off the armrest of the couch with his free hand and quickly tossing it over himself so the holes line up with his eyes making you smile. “Don’t forget your glasses sugar plum!” Harry grabs the sunglasses off the table by the front door and puts them on before quickly rushing to answer the door.
“Trick or Treat!” Harry smiles at the little girl who’s dressed as some sort of Princess but he knows she can’t see it. “I like your glasses.” She says as he places a few pieces of candy into her bucket but before he can say anything she’s turning and running off down the stairs giggling at the light up ghosts you have scattered amongst the pumpkins you have decorating the steps.
“Now before you say anything about my manners she ran off before I could thank her properly.” Harry explains when he turns around and sees you leaning against the wall near the front door with a grin on your face.
“Well ghosts are spookier when they don’t talk.” You state as Harry takes the glasses off and places them on the table by the door along with the candy bowl. “You make such a cute ghost honey.” Harry feels his cheeks get warm as he takes the sheet off and drapes it over the edge of the table before taking a few steps towards you.
“You think so? Because my girlfriend is actually the one who made the costume for me and at first I thought she was a bit nutty because it’s just a sheet with two holes cut out and a pair of sunglasses.” He watches you roll your eyes as he places his hands on your hips and gives them a little squeeze. “But if you think I look cute then I’ll happily wear it more often.” He gives you a playful smirk as he looks down at you while you place your hands on his chest as you get on your tiptoes making Harry lean down so your lips are next to his ear.
“Call me nutty one more time Styles and those will be the only sheets of mine you’ll be getting under tonight.” Harry’s grip on your hips tightens as your hands slide up his chest to his shoulders as you whisper in his ear. You place a kiss to his cheek before dropping from your tip toes and sliding your hands back down to his chest giving it a playful pat before you wiggle out of his hold so you can go back to the kitchen and check on your cookies that are in the oven. “Love you honey.” You shout from over your shoulder as Harry just stands there for a moment.
“Love you too baby.” He says with a chuckle as he makes his way back to his spot on the couch, you shoot him a playful wink when he looks at you before sitting down and he can’t help but smile because by some odd miracle you’re actually his girlfriend who’s baking him and his bandmates cookies and making him dress up like a ghost to answer the door to trick or treaters and he just loves you.
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hstylestuff · 1 year ago
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give me credits pls
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freedomfireflies · 1 year ago
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Freaky Fun Masterlist
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Eeeee hi!!
So, I thought it might be kind of fun to do some Halloween/Spooky Season inspired extras and blurbs for each of the main Harry's we have!!
None of the extra's and stories will be related to the current timelines! Just a quick fun peek at what they all might get up to for Halloween!!
All one-shots, blurbs, and extras can be read as standalone's!
*These stories will contain Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*
Longer Extras:
~ American Psycho* | One for the Money
The one where you and your boss, Mr. Styles, have a little bit too much fun at the office Halloween party.
~ Scream* | Mine
The one where your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, plans out a Fall Day of Fun. Scary movies included.
~ A-Mazing* | 404
The one where you and Harry find yourselves lost in a corn maze together.
~ Tease Me* | Teach Me
The one where you and your best friend, Harry, are invited to a Haunted House. But ghosts aren’t the only fun thing about this party.
Blurbs:
~ Bite Me*
The one where your boyfriend, Harry, is a vampire. And you wish you could feel what he felt.
~ Wake the Dead* | iFall for Harry
The one where you and Harry sneak into an abandoned cemetery at night.  And things get a little spooky.
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haylor-stuff · 8 months ago
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like or reblog if you save
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