#harry styles teaser

[freedomfireflies]

you again teaser!!

!!!! EEEE!

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on your door. "Dot?"

He's back.

Confused and slightly excited, you swing it back open to find him braced against your frame. He’s quiet as he studies you, brows woven together in what appears to be deep thought before he strides back inside your apartment and begins to pace your floor.

"Okay," he begins. Strained. "Okay, tell me...tell me this isn't just me. Tell me this isn't just in my head."

You shut the door.  "What do you mean?”

He looks at you before frantically gesturing between your two bodies. "This. This thing we’ve been doing all afternoon. Tell me it's not just me. Tell me you feel it, too.”

And you're almost certain you know what he means, but the implication of it scares the shit out of you.

So, you simply tilt your head. "Har...feel what? I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Us.” He stares at you. “Us, there's something...there's something different here. Something that wasn't here before."

"Like...?"

"Like...like the way you look at me," he says, eyes on yours as you feel your heart begin to race. "You never used to look at me that way."

Your lashes flutter, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of the way you've begun to gawk at him. Have you been looking at him differently?

"And the way you speak to me," he continues. "Talking about needing someone to take care of you. Someone older. Someone...more mature."

You swallow.

He takes a step closer. "And all day, you've just...you’ve found a way to brush your hand against mine. Or your arm. And you laugh at everything I say, even when it isn't funny. And I know you. I know this can't be what I think it is, but...you gotta tell me I'm not going crazy. You have to tell me it's not just...me."

And you realize now that you have an easy way out. You could brush off the accusation and tell him that it is just in his head. That he's your sister's ex-boyfriend, and he's your friend, and that you would never make a pass at him.

But then you say, "…what if it wasn't just you?"

[gurugirl]

Boss!harry | series preview

This is a Patreon-only series!

Summary: Harry's your boss and you're trying really hard not to develop feelings for him.

Warning: This is an angsty series y'all!

His warm hand smoothed over your hip and curled around your side as he scooted in closer.

You weren't sure what to expect when he'd wake up. You thought maybe he'd be right back to business, take you back to your car so you could go home and get yourself ready for the day. You hadn't expected that he'd be kissing up the column of your neck to your jaw with hot puffs of breath falling from his mouth and spreading over your skin slowly like melting wax.

You also hadn't expected your body's immediate reaction to him. The liquid heat pooling between your naked thighs and the way your nipples tightened underneath the cotton of his t-shirt. When he slid his hand underneath the fabric and up your tummy to your breast you rattled a moan that sounded like desperation. The way he squeezed around your sensitive tits was something you had no idea you needed. He practically worshiped your nipples and the soft plush skin of your breasts the night before.

The blankets tangled around your ankle as you rolled to your side to face him and he pulled you in by your thigh, pressing your naked core against his morning wood.

Fuck.

It was one thing to have a wild night with your excruciatingly handsome boss, but it was another to do it again upon waking before you were meant to be at work and pretending like nothing had happened.

Pretending. You could pretend. You'd have to because he made it clear the night before that this wasn't a thing. That this was just sex and you'd need to keep it quiet. That it wasn't going to happen again. It couldn't.

Which meant the way he touched you was just sex, just something for that moment. The way the remnants of his palm prints burned into your skin left behind something that would turn hollow and bitter the moment you left his front door made your stomach curl into itself.

You swallowed down the loss before it had even arrived. A one-night stand with your boss was a bad idea and this was why. Harry would be fine after (he could have anyone he wanted) and you'd be left reeling and abandoned. Again. Because this is what men did. You were only good for as long as they saw fit. And after this, Harry wouldn't want or need anything more from you. Why would he?

"Y/n…" he breathed your name against your lips, "Already shaking and I've barely touched you, baby. God I just wanna eat you alive."

He would eat you alive too. Chew you up and spit you right back out. But you wouldn't stop him from doing it. You couldn't stop it because if that's all it could be you'd take the last bits of what he'd offer and be on your way.

It was a sleepy morning, hazy, blurry, soft… Harry's hands and his tongue worked down your body until he'd found your pussy and he slowly, lazily ate you out until you were coming and crying.

And that time, when he fucked into you, it was slow and steady. Slippery wet. Your bare breasts were pressed into his chest as he licked into your mouth and the embers grew and sparked until they caught and your body was at the edge of surrender.

"Fuck your pussy feels just right," he groaned as he dragged himself through your walls, coating himself in your arousal, your scent.

You whimpered and stuffed your fingers into his hair as he ground his pelvis into your clit. The perfect angle, the perfect cock. Too bad he wasn't the perfect man. You couldn't have him. For obvious reasons.

Your throaty moans were swallowed by his mouth, his length smashing into your guts with a wet slapping sound as you both moved together as one. Sex and sweat and heat and the imprint of desire.

He was soft; his words, his cadence, his hands… but the thick and heavy organ moving into your tummy was anything but soft; stiff, masculine, and rigid, it stretched your insides wide open. He needed the room and your body accommodated every inch of him. Gushy.

When he spoke against your ear, the hitch in his voice was almost whiny, like he was the one who was going to feel the loss. Like he was going to be left hollow and you were the one eating him alive, "Baby… shit. Right there?" He nudged into you and stilled himself so you could feel what he meant. Right there. Yes. Right there. Tight and spongy, the pulse emanating from your cunt was wrapped around him, a rhythmic beating that tremored down through his cock and into the veins and nerve endings. Connected.

You stuffed down the dribble of emotion that swelled in your throat and threatened to break from your waterline.

It's just sex. You're a sexual being who needed a good release. It's just sex. You don't need him. It's. Just. Sex.

But it certainly didn't just feel like sex when his soft green irises found your gaze and he held it as he languidly rocked into you. He dotted kisses along your face and then he'd watch you for a moment and it was going to have you mixed up because it was so intimate. So tender of him.

Maybe if he'd flip you around and fuck you from behind and give you a nice spanking it'd feel like just sex. He'd done that the night before (among other positions). Had you drooling into his mattress as he plowed into you from behind, a couple of good swats on your ass as he said filthy things to you. That felt like just sex. Good sex, but still.

So the soft and slow morning fuck with gentle kisses and an easy, damp tongue over your parted lips, his eyes connected to yours as he moaned and slid his thumb at your temple – that was not just sex and you didn't want it.

Well, you did want it. You really did because you wanted to find someone that would do all those things. But you wanted that for good. Not just for the night.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" Harry sponged a kiss to the edge of your mouth.

"Yeah. I'm okay," you were breathless and on the edge of tears. A ridiculous girl.

"Does it hurt from last night? Was it too much?"

Swallowing you blinked your eyes and he was still softly caressing your face with his thumb like only a lover would do.

"It… a little. I feel fine now. You're so gentle so it's okay."

"That's why I'm being careful. Thought you might need it softer this morning. Are you sure you're okay?"

Too attentive. Too thoughtful. Too present. How were you going to separate your romantic nature from your carnal one? How did all the other women do it? You were sure he was like this with every girl he brought to his bed.

If you'd like to see more consider joining my Patreon if you haven't already! xoxo

[1800titz]

POMEGRANATE | Hades!Harry

>13.1K on patreon

Something pops. The world stretches apart into static. A bird croons overhead. You open your mouth wide as it wracks through you, but nothing comes out as your surroundings shatter like glass. Instead, the casing of your teeth can only echo what he murmurs into the gap. A word you can barely hear through the haze as bliss tears you apart. “Persephone.”

CONTENT: nipple play, pussy inspection, size kink(!!!!), slight humiliation, dom/sub undertones, p-in-v, anal play (if you squint), praise kink, slight degradation, spanking-ish (mostly just cheeky ass smacking)

preview

How do you come to terms with your own undoing? You always thought death would come quiet and sharp. Easy like a whip-crack. You wouldn’t have to wade the sticky deluge of awareness. 

It would happen in a split second.

But you know it. Get it. This nauseating instinct burgeoning in your guts isn’t paranoia. It’s not the whisper of a footstep in a shadow. The dark alcove you pass in the city, feet moving a little faster to fall back under the yellow sanctum of a streetlight. Something bad can happen here. 

This is the bad thing— the worst thing— this is justified fear. You feel it itching like nausea on the back of your tongue. Worming its way into your thunderous heart. 

You thought you knew what it was like to be scared. But this twists in your chest and snakes to your stomach, coiling up and sitting heavy like a rock— 

You are dying, and you are aware of it. 

Something strange kicks in along the moribund stretch between here and there— the cognizance that cobwebs in little cracks across the foundation. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

A sense of urgency. Late-onset hypervigilance (something you should have had on the road, with your hands on the wheel and your foot lingering in that safe-space between gas pedal and brake). You’ve never had to coach yourself into clambering off your deathbed before, but you’re distinctly aware that if you don’t start talking yourself out of it, you’ll fold yourself into the covers. 

When he speaks, the sound is wedged into the twinging paradox of familiar and distant, all at once. Archaic— some sense of knowing buzzes along your bones. It sounds like homecoming to a place you’ve never been. 

A place you don’t want to go.

The man leaning over your battered center console, your deformed gearshift— you, blinking up at him weakly—

Is an uncanny farrago. 

Past the blurry vignette of your eyeline, the fuzzy streak that ruptures along the center, he looks almost human. Miming the perfect pastiche, down to the mussed coiffing of his hair, the ridging, pink line of his mouth. The flat, indifferent shapes of his face; the slope of his nose, the score of his lips. All entirely bereft of… emergency. Dread. Anything reasonable to the discovery of a sedan with its hood crumpled against an oak trunk. You, sandwiched between your tilted driver’s seat and the mangled steering wheel. 

Instead, he stares down at you with the kind of undisturbed calm you’ve only found before a storm. The mirage of nirvana-like quiet along the cloudless sky, the tired, unmoving wind. 

He’s the most handsomely apathetic man you’ve ever seen. Sculpted from marble and soft, borrowed flesh. 

The kind that almost doesn’t belong. Too… simple. Just the mold of something familiar for you to grasp. The costume doesn’t bend itself enough to fit his shape, and so the imitation loses itself somewhere along the seams. 

It’s the perfect example of beauty sewing herself into peril.

The biggest giveaway are his eyes. They’re bleary star-shapes through your gaze. Over-saturated colors. And they’re unlike anything sublunary you’ve ever seen before. 

They make you feel like you’re drowning. Suffocating. A reminder that you’re too close to something much more than you. 

Too close to the ghosting kiss of death.

They’re the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen. Preternaturally vibrant, almost glowing, framed in arsenic white. But it’s the charcoal black pools in them, like endless trenches, that make your lungs feel heavy. Their unfathomable depths. The way they refuse to echo the trepidation that lingers over your chest, bruising bones and stringing into the fibrils of your soft tissue.

You see a piece of yourself in them. Something waning. 

It’s your own reflection. You’ve never seen yourself like that. Scared like a caged animal. Eclipsed behind the fear like the sun hiding in the shape of the moon.

“Time’s up,” is what he says. Low, and quiet, and pragmatic, gaze deadpan. 

(Obsidian pits, unmerciful gemstones cut straight from the crust, gold-flecked like a reflection of the molten layer beneath.) 

So unmoved. Indelicate. Like he’s got a horologe of your lifespan in his palm. You want to tell him to check his invisible wrist watch— that he’s wrong, it’s not. 

Turn the hourglass, you think hysterically, almost feeling the granules you’re shedding as your time lapses. Crumbling around you. In on you, collapsing like a poorly-structured roof. Today, you’re built out of a flimsy house of cards.

You took three pages of notes on Hades in college. 

Somewhere in your childhood home, the Greek Mythology notebook is wedged into a box in the attic from when you brought it home with you for winter break. 

You watched animated renditions of the Grim Reaper dance across your TV in a hood, as a kid. Old cartoons off the floor with a bowl of cereal in your lap before school.

You learned about the devil in church. 

Metaphysical kinship feels overdue, like a half-assed afterthought. But you stare up at the obscure wreathe of midnight black smoke wisping around the shape of his head, the nearly imperceptible, swirling coat of charcoal smoldering off his shoulders, and try to remember the words to prayers that were left to collect dust on your tongue years ago.

“You an’ I,” the seat crinkles when it shifts under his weight, the lopsided center console clicks under his forearm, “have somewhere to be.” 

It’s not an open-ended invitation; come if you want, stay if you don’t. No. It’s an edict. You can’t chisel into the edges of dogma around it— the unspoken ones— but you know that this man is final. He is the law, the declaration, the order. 

You’re not ready to die. 

Too young, still wet behind the ears. You can’t wipe it off on the napkin your bucket list will be crumpled into— you’re still supposed to see Ayutthaya, and ride in a hot air balloon, and try that Thai place your friend recommended weeks ago; the one you’ve been putting off, because there was always more time. And that’s the thing, you think, it always feels like there’s more time. The bottle never runs out. You stare down into it and keep drinking like it’ll fill itself back up. The aspirations feel so nugatory now. The little army men maquettes your dad collected in the basement, speckling the peripheral ledges of this yawning, all-consuming demise. You sink into it. Flail. Sink deeper. Until— what?

The horrifying thought ripples the surface of the cesspool. These mountains stretch for miles. They arch, and roll, and recede; Gaia’s heavy-handed fingerpainting. 

No one is here. 

No one saw you.

And no one will know where to begin to look for you. 

For what’s left. 

And what is left of you? Inconclusive alphabet soup in the local newspaper? Headlines: missing; tragic accident; too young; thoughts and prayers. Eventually, a body to put into a box? A hole in the dirt, for tree roots to snake out like a cage and cradle your wilting, still heart?

You open your mouth. Close it. Mouth at the air, wordlessly, panting, like a guppy, with your tongue thick and numb and the words dangling precariously along the rim of your wobbling lower lip. You breathe them in shallowly, and they nearly die at the back of your throat. 

How do you barter with Death? Look it in the eyes— the eclipse of your own, waning soul— and bargain?

It starts like this:

“I’m not ready.” 

A time old tale. You intend for the words to be forceful— a kind of declaration. Rebellion is a trait that wouldn’t necessarily serve your case (but maybe he’d admire the dauntless passion). But they come out weak. Dizzy. Tired. 

The console clicks again. Then, the sound of fabric brushing on leather. He’s closer. Leaning into you more. Over you. These are the only sounds besides your trembling pants, the rabitting pace of your heartbeat. A sharp contrast to his leisurely disposition. You feel it throbbing in your neck like a vice, like it’s swelling and taking up too much room the harder it thrums, too much space for your airway. 

And you can’t look away from him. The supernovae whirling in the green beds of his eyes. Varicolored webs in motion, swirling like liquid, the way human eyes— so fixed, so temporary, so delicate— don’t. It’s the contrast of another world against your own— you stare into it like you’re watching two pools of another dimension unfold in his skull. 

They’re not sorry for you. They sit on you. Magmatic. Unwavering.

“Tha’s too bad.” 

The words shudder and bruise through you like a sucker punch. Cut into you like the edge of a blade. The gravity they’re saturated in sinks between your ribs. It’s not I’m sorry. 

You almost flinch. Despite how harsh the words are, how cruel, his tone is nothing but unembellished. Prosaic. Dull with unsentimental truth. That’s too bad; he says it like an observation, and nothing else. 

And you shouldn’t expect different— can’t— from …whatever he is. An impassive numen: Death; The Reaper. 

A deity doesn’t grieve temporal flesh. 

You can’t expect him to. You wouldn’t feel sorry, either you think— you’d be desensitized. But it feels so much sharper from the other end.

It doesn’t matter what you should do. What you shouldn’t. It’s what you can’t. 

You can’t accept it, give in. Not like this. It’s human instinct— to fight. The drive worms under your skin and mangles whatever is left, twisting it into something noxious. Full of bite. 

You wear it on your teeth when you bear them to spit, “I won’t go.” 

It’s full of anger. Vicious. Anger at him. The clumsy doe. The circumstances. Yourself. And it’s stubborn. This pluck against a… God, against whatever he is, surely won’t do you any favors. 

But he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of the fight. Your tone, the shuddery breath you take as you sit up a little, square your shoulders, doesn’t chip the veneer on his clean, unemotional demeanor. The haze around the borders of your vision is a bleary smear that pans in, and you blink it away, lashes fluttering to bat it off. It has a tear trickling down your cheek. 

When he stretches his hand up, it makes you falter. A reflexive tick, chin tipping. Flinching away. But the knuckle in his curled forefinger grazes your skin. Slow. Featherlight, like coaxing a frightened animal out of the corner it’s backed itself into. And the heat you find there makes you gasp. It’s hot against the crest of your cheekbone, so hot you think you’re feeling the fumes of that molten core, the crushed flinders of magma that swim along his irises. So hot you’re sure, now, that he’s pooling boiling ichor, veins running like lavascapes under the pastiche of a man he wears.

It knocks your resolve. Throws you off. It’s so… against your expectations. The notion of death. 

Death is supposed to be cold. It’s supposed to kiss you with gloam, and unspool shadows across your heavy lashes, and chill you like the Vinson Massif snowcap with its tongue. 

But he burns. Running so hot, it’s almost a human touch. Too much. Too close. 

“Sh, sh, sh,” he coos, curled knuckle bumping the side of your jaw. Your chin. 

You can’t move. Can’t break. Won’t give, lost in his tar-black pupils, like two mirrored, bottomless polynyas. The marbled, snaking tendrils of sunflower-yellow and green framing them.

For the first time, he looks at you with something besides nonchalant indifference. It’s still cold over the surface. A cosmetic veneer that makes him solid and inexpressive— but it fractures like a chisel sawing an ice hole. You can’t decipher what you find. It’s a misslip. A kind of parapraxis— the way his eyes rove you, dipping like scoping the valley in the mountains. A Freudian slip. They linger on your eyes, then— fall. To your mouth. Your neck. The soft lines of your chest. His fingers skid from your jawline to the hair that’s fallen over your shoulder. He twists a piece of your hair around his forefinger. 

It has something peculiar pulling apart in your head. With the crash, the circumstances, the way you’re slowly slipping into this territory you don’t know, the finality of death with its boots on your doorstep, you’ve grown so numb. 

But this hits you like a freight train, pulls you out. 

Awe. There is something undeniable in what’s oozing from behind the dispassionate shell— this is the way a man looks when he wants. 

With instinctive drive— basal need. It’s too close to human longing. The way a man looks at a bar. The slow rolling eyes, in sultry descent, from the other side of the couch. Knuckles on your thigh, bare skin, come closer unspoken.

His eyes are on the coil around his finger. Your lips again. When you swallow, there’s cotton in your throat. Nestled in it is the last ditch effort.

“What if— I give you… something.” It’s silly. The words shake and spill before you can throw them back and chase them with acceptance. You’re not asking. Not begging. Offering.

Something flickers. It’s different. His eyes flash. And then, a slow-seeping smile trickles across his lips. Something like it. Amused, then, you realize. He’s amused. 

His forearm splays back over the center console. Your hair falls back into its place, over your shoulder. He cocks his head. Hums. He is the picture of languid ease and you cup your fright between your hands like a firefly and pretend. 

“Trying to bargain?” 

His eyes are a little easier, then, not so unblinking. Eyelids drooping half-mast. You wonder if you’ve thrown a wrench into the script— added a splash of color into the monotonous bleak spreadsheet of a routine he’s been cycling through for aeons. His fingers drum against the tilted center console (your eyes oscillate to them. Back. To them. Back. Onto the other hand, sliding down his thick thigh as he sits up). 

“Isn’t that just…” thump, thump, thump. His fingertip on the broken plastic. Your heart in your ears. “…the sweetest thing.”

You swallow. Your throat clicks. His mouth is a malleable, broken moon. Quicksilver. Crescent sharpening, falling dull. Sharp again. He leans in a little closer. Up close like this, you can smell him. Taste him on the back of your throat. A cold cave, the wet, dark layers of the earth when you dig into the dirt too deep, a fallen cypress, leaves you can crumble between your fingers. White lillies. Bereavement flowers in careful, somber clusters around a casket.

“And what do you,” his eyes oscillate from your gaze to your slightly parted mouth, “have to give me?”

Your heart is rabbiting. Head dizzy. Every joint aches and creaks like a rusty hinge. The rattlesnake of it all slithers around your lungs. 

“Sex,” you bluster. Your eyes are wide. Brows notched. It sounds a little shrill, a little incredulous. Far too callow for the offer you intend it to be. 

Silly little human. And this is where he laughs. Tilts his head, nostrils flaring as he huffs through them. White lily-teeth in neat rows at your gall. But he doesn’t laugh— not outright, anyways. Your pulse throbs thick in your throat but you cling to it, because it means you’re still alive. His eyes are embers. Live coal in the pit of a campfire, and you feel the heat of it through your skin. 

“That right?” he muses instead of outright chuffing, oiled in mirth.

You close your mouth. Open it. Close it again. All retorts die ugly at the back of your mouth— you fluster beside him because you’re finally feeling the heat, razing you, and the taunt slicking his tone is like kerosene to the flame. 

Three ruckles crease across his forehead when he raises his brows. You count them; one, two, three. They look so out of place— crinkles in the perfect, porcelain-smooth amalgam that is an almost-human face carved from marble.  

“In exchange for…?” he probes, chin ducked. Staring at you from over the bridge of his nose. 

“My life.”

He hums again. Musing. Mocking. It’s the slow roll of the summer into autumn. The dying breath of an orbit collapsing to stutter anew.

“Awful brave,” he gibes, white teeth— white like cold skin, like snowfall under glowing apricity— flashing for a second from behind the lopsided curve of his smiling lips, “negotiating with a God.”

So he is. Your eyes inch in increments like you’re taking in every particle of this being, soaking up the dust-dark wisping off his shoulders. All around him. Dumb, little girl. He says it like he means it that way— stupid, plucky little human. 

“Thinks it’s that easy, mm?” he says, “You… spread your pretty legs and what—? Turn back time?”

“That’s what the offer sounded like, yeah,” you tell him from between your gritted teeth, tone flat.

There is still a pulsating in your head, thrumming in your temple. But the sound of fabric brushing in the front seat of your cramped sedan, the way he huffs, is unmistakable. 

“Cheeky, cheeky,” he drawls, but it’s all ease. Saturated in mirth— perhaps you’ve caught Death in good spirits. “Got a mouth on you.”

It’s his next words that have you faltering. Both because you’re, maybe, biting off more than you can chew, and because of the unanticipated heat that melts apart inside of you at the tone. The vulgarity.

“Maybe that’s what you need for a mouth like that,” he tells you, all low, eyes as white-hot as his touch, “do you some good. A nice, hard shag.”

[enchantedlandcoffee]

Love's a State of Mind

by @enchantedlandcoffee

Coming soon(ish) to @1domegaverseficfest

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Friends to Lovers, Exes to Lovers

"What is it? Is it because I told you I love you? Because I tell everyone I love them, Louis, it's no big deal-" "It is a big deal, Harry. God, I've heard you tell Niall, Liam, Nick, even the postman that you love them. I've known you for ten years now and, since we presented, you stopped telling me that you loved me. You'd tell everyone else and I'd just get a pat on the back. So forgive me if I was a little taken aback by my drunk best friend telling me he loved me. Telling me that there's no one else like me and that he'd be lucky to have me as his omega. Only then to find out that he doesn't remember that last part. And for him to laugh it off like it didn't mean anything-" "It didn't mean anything..." "Well, it meant something to me."

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[starryhaze28]

I put a spell on you (because you’re mine)

𖤐 witch Harry x vampire Louis 𖤐

𖤐 25k 𖤐

𖤐 out October 31st 𖤐

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

October had always brought Harry peace, until it brought him a vampire.

[strwbabydoll]

chapter 1 of The Feeling Came Late sneak speak

consider this an apology for not posting :) enjoy! chapter one will be out hopefully wednesday :)

When the principal opens the tall wooden door leading to his office, he steps aside to let Harry in and smiles as Harry mumbles a rough thank you in response. Harry immediately frowns when he sees the figure sitting in a chair in front of the desk, her fingers messing with her bag and her eyes seeming to stare a hole in the desk. Sitting behind his dark oak desk and opening up his laptop, the sound of clicking filling the room as he types.

"So, Harry, you know why I brought you here?" The older man asks and Harry nods.

"Think so, s'about the midterm right? And if so, I have some words. Knapick's crazy if she thinks that test was anywhere near suitable to give to us. I suggest you look into that." Harry says and the principal shakes his head, Y/N only lets out a soft scoff as if she doesn’t believe him.

The principal leans back and adjusts his glasses as he stares at Harry.

"No, Harry. It's just you I believe. Almost everyone else passed the exam with at least a C average if not better." Harry frowns at that and shakes his head.

"No way, the test is rigged I tell you. I knew Knapick never liked me. She's trying to fail me Oscar."

"No, you barely did effort. And if you wanna be able to graduate on time, I suggest you get a tutor." The principal says and Harry's frown deepens.

"No way."

"Yes, Harry. I'm serious. I'm trying to help. I can give you a list of our best tutors in the school but it’d be pointless on both of our parts, we both know you won’t take this seriously or you’ll just find a way to get them to give you the answers. I don’t want you wasting their time.

Harry shakes his head furiously, the ponytail slowly beginning to slip from the elastic's hold causing a few of his curls to frame his face.

"It's either you get the help you need or you're gonna be repeating, and I know you don’t want to ruin your little reputation by having to repeat." Harry huffs and rolls his eyes once more.

“I guess.” Harry says and the principal nods.

“Great! That’s where you come in Y/N. I know you’re real patient and won't fall for your game, Styles."

"No game. I just have the charm the ladies want, Oscar." Harry says and smirks - only briefly though, he absolutely hates the idea of spending any time with her; just being here in the same room for this short period of time is excruciating and annoying.

"But I don't want her, give me someone else."

"I'll see what I can do but I think she would be best. She’s already here, I don’t want to have to waste her time and I'm sure she works fast."

Y/N only sighs, it’s quiet and barely noticeable if Harry wasn’t already trying to stare a hole into her head.

“I can tutor him, sir. Only if he wants me to, which we all know he doesn’t.” She says and Harry huffs obnoxiously loud as he uncrosses his arms.

"She makes me want to tug my hair out." Y/N laughs to herself at this and Harry frowns again, he didn’t say anything funny.

[allthelovehes]

Writing Retreat* | TEASER

Summary: Harry takes Y/N on a writing retreat to Italy, and given all this alone time causes things to bloom between him and his guitarist.

Pairing: Famous!Harry x Guitarist!Y/N

Word count: 2.5K TEASER of a 5K Patreon Exclusive!

Warnings: Unprotected sex, smut, p in v, swimming pool sex.

Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla @hsonlyangelxo @yousunshineyoutempter @heartateasee @blueheisenbergtragedy @bikestyles @bohemianrhapsody86 @cherrylovers-world @harrys-littlefreak Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗

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“You're coming with me to Italy right?” Harry asks Y/N through the phone, while he is sitting on the sofa in his living room. Harry is planning a writing retreat in Italy to work on his fourth album. He is hoping Y/N will agree to come with him as he could use her expertise for the project.

“Yeah, I am.” Y/N answers while looking at the plane tickets. She is currently staying in New York with a couple of friends to catch up with them before she leaves for Italy. “I bought my tickets already, we'll arrive on the same day.”

“Perfect. I'll send you the address of the Airbnb we're staying at so you can check out the local sights and stuff. The studio isn't far from there, so it will only be a short walk.” Harry says while smiling to himself, excited to have her there to help him write his songs.

“That sounds good.” Y/N says as she looks over her shoulder and sees her friend walking into the kitchen. “I'll text you tomorrow. I can't wait to see you.”

“Me too.” Harry smiles to himself again.

“Y/N, do you have a boyfriend you never told us about?” Her friend suddenly says as she puts down her phone and Y/N can hear a bit of a laugh in her voice.

“No.” Y/N shakes her head as she turns towards her friend. “Why are you asking that?”

“You have this look on your face that tells me you're smitten with someone.” Her friend says, smiling. She is onto something as Y/N is indeed head over heels for Harry and that's where it gets complicated. Not only is he her best friend, but also her boss, so she doesn't want to mix the two together.

“I don't.” Y/N laughs, shaking her head as she gets up. She walks into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and her friend follows her.

“Then who were you talking to?” She asks, smiling.

“Harry.” Y/N answers honestly as she turns the kettle on and grabs two mugs from the cupboard.

“The Harry?” Her friend asks, her eyes growing wide. “Harry Styles, the man you have worked for the past years? Your best friend, Harry?”

“Yes, the one and only.” Y/N laughs and her friend laughs with her.

“Does he know about your feelings?” Her friend asks as she sits down on the barstool at the counter.

“Gosh, there's no feelings for him to know about. We're friends.” Y/N answers, not looking at her friend as she takes the teabags from the top drawer and puts one in each mug.

“Sure, okay. I get it.” Her friend says, not believing her.

“I mean, yeah, he's attractive. But I'm sure every girl thinks that.” Y/N adds.

“Not just every girl, but most girls.” Her friend replies. “Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

“I can't.” Y/N answers simply as she turns to look at her friend. “He's my boss.”

“But you also said you're his friend, right?” Her friend says. “You'll be with him on a holiday for the next couple of weeks, plenty of time to figure it out.”

“We'll see.” Y/N replies as the kettle boils and she turns back around to make their cups of tea. ***

The next morning, Y/N's alarm wakes her up and she immediately gets out of bed. She goes to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth, before going to the kitchen. It's 8 am and Y/N has to be at the airport in two hours to catch her flight. She made some sandwiches the night before and packs them into a box along with some drinks. Then she packs the last of her stuff in her suitcase and grabs her handbag. Her friends are still sleeping and they offered to take her to the airport, but Y/N decided she would get an Uber. She is too nervous to sit in a car with her friends on her way to the airport.

When the Uber arrives, she sends her friends a text to let them know she's leaving and she opens the trunk before the driver helps her put her suitcase in the car. Once she's seated in the back, the driver starts the journey to the airport.

Y/N checks her phone for the hundredth time this morning and Harry hasn't sent her a message yet. She knows he's probably sleeping, as he's flying in from London, but she is hoping he's up soon to send her a message. Y/N is excited to see him.

She opens Instagram and scrolls through her feed. She is a little nervous to go on a writing trip with Harry. What if they spend all day and night together in their own private bubble and something happens between them? She isn't sure what to do if that were to happen, but she is also trying to not think about it.

It's not like they'll be the only ones in the studio but the Airbnb is just for the two of them. Harry made sure to book a proper house for them, with enough rooms and a pool. It is a big Airbnb, located close to the beach and the studio. There's a kitchen where the two of them can cook their meals and the bedrooms both have their own ensuite.

Y/N can't help but daydream a little about sharing the house with Harry. It's the first time the two of them will live together and she wonders what it will be like. She has known him for so long, but living with someone is always a different story.

The ride to the airport goes by fast and once Y/N has checked in, she grabs a coffee and waits for her plane to start boarding. As she sits down, her phone lights up and a smile appears on her face when she sees Harry's name pop up.

HarryHey, can't wait to see you. You at the airport yet?

Y/NHey. Yeah, just boarded the plane. See you soon!

HarryText me when you arrive and I'll come get you.

Y/NWill do. x

She puts her phone into airplane mode and takes a sip from her coffee, while she looks outside at the planes landing and taking off. She has done this so many times before, but this time is different.

After a couple of hours, Y/N's plane lands in Milan and she is relieved to finally be on solid ground. She is greeted by the warm Italian air as she walks to the baggage claim and takes her phone out of airplane mode. Her phone buzzes immediately and she smiles as she sees Harry's name light up the screen.

HarryI'm outside, can't wait to see you.

Y/NOutside where?

HarryBaggage claim.

Y/N smiles as she picks up her suitcase from the conveyor belt and walks outside, searching for Harry. She is surprised when she sees him standing outside, his eyes fixated on his phone, and her heart beats a little faster. He is wearing a loose t-shirt, jean shorts and his curls are styled perfectly.

“Hey.” Y/N says, her voice sounding a little nervous.

Harry lifts his gaze from his phone and he smiles when he sees Y/N. He quickly puts his phone away and walks towards her. “Hey.” He says as he wraps his arms around her and Y/N feels her body melt into his embrace. His scent is intoxicating and she lets out a deep breath.

“How was the flight?” Harry asks as he pulls away.

“Fine. How was yours?” Y/N asks as they start walking.

“It was good.” Harry nods, smiling.

“I thought I was supposed to let you know I'm here before you'd come pick me up.” Y/N laughs and Harry's smile grows wider.

“Well, I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to see you.” He says, his words causing butterflies in Y/N's stomach.

They make their way through the airport and soon, they are outside. It's hotter than Y/N expected it to be, but the Italian air feels nice. They get into Harry's rental car. She tries to focus on the beautiful buildings, parks and trees, but her mind keeps wandering off to the fact that she'll be living with the man beside her for the next couple of weeks.

“Here we are.” Harry says as he parks the car and Y/N is snapped back to reality.

“Wow, this is huge.” Y/N exclaims as she takes in the villa. It's even better than the pictures showed. It has a large porch with a garden in front of the house and she can see the pool behind the house.

“Yeah.” Harry says as he gets out of the car and walks around to get Y/N's suitcase from the trunk.

“Let me help you.” Y/N says as she grabs the other side of her suitcase and they walk up the stairs towards the entrance.

“No, no, I've got it.” Harry shakes his head and Y/N lets go of her suitcase. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at him.

“Thanks.” She says as Harry opens the front door and pushes her suitcase inside.

“This is our home for the next couple of weeks.” Harry says as they walk further into the house. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Where is my room?” Y/N asks as she takes her shoes off.

“Uhm, upstairs, the first door on the left.” Harry answers.

“Thanks.” Y/N nods. “I'll just bring my suitcase upstairs, unpack and freshen up a little.”

“No problem.” Harry says and Y/N can feel his eyes on her as she climbs the stairs. She opens the door and smiles as she takes in the beautiful bedroom. It has a king-sized bed, a couch and a desk. She places her suitcase on the couch and opens it.

“This is nice.” Harry says and Y/N turns around to see him leaning against the doorway.

“Yeah.” Y/N nods. “Much bigger than my bedroom in London.”

“I'm glad you like it.” Harry smiles as he steps into the room and sits down on the edge of the bed. “So, how have you been?” ***

It's been a couple of days since the two of them arrived at their dream destination and they have spent most of their time exploring the area. They have gone to the beach, the shops and restaurants and today is the first day they will start working in the studio.

Y/N has woken up early, even though they stayed up late the night before. They have gone to a fancy restaurant where they had some good food and wine.

“Morning.” Harry's voice comes from behind her as Y/N stands in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to be ready.

“Hey.” Y/N says, smiling. “There's coffee in the pot.”

“Thanks.” Harry says as he steps towards the coffee machine and grabs a cup.

“Do you have anything planned for today?” Y/N asks.

“We're going to the studio, right?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah.” Y/N says, nodding her head. “I have some ideas for a new song, actually.”

“Really? That's great.” Harry says, his eyes lighting up. “We should get breakfast on the way.”

“Okay, let's go.” Y/N nods and follows him outside.

Once they are in the studio, they settle in the control room and Harry hands Y/N his notebook. She flips through the pages, seeing the songs he's already written and some notes he's made.

“Can I play something for you?” Harry asks.

“Of course.” Y/N smiles, turning her attention back to Harry.

“I want your honest opinion, okay?” He says and Y/N nods her head. “So, it's not finished yet. I just want to hear how it sounds with the melody.”

“Go ahead.” Y/N says.

Harry sits down on the chair and starts playing the piano. His fingers hit the keys and Y/N closes her eyes, letting his voice and the music engulf her. It's a beautiful song, the lyrics and melody flowing perfectly together.

“How is it?” Harry asks when he finishes and Y/N opens her eyes.

“It's amazing, Harry. Really.” Y/N says, her voice is sincere.

“You really think so?” Harry asks.

“Yeah.” Y/N says as she gets up from the chair and steps closer to Harry. “I really do.”

“Thanks.” Harry smiles, looking down at his feet.

“Let's add some guitars and record a demo. See how it sounds.” Y/N suggests and Harry nods.

“Okay, let's do it.” Harry agrees, following her out of the control room and into the live room. They work on the song until the late afternoon, recording and mixing the demo. ***

Two weeks later, they have a lot of work done on the album and Harry's been playing the guitar and singing for most of the days. Y/N's been listening, offering him some advice and helping him out with the arrangements along with other people who dropped into the studio here and there.

It's late at night and they're sitting on the porch, a glass of wine in their hands.

“I think we're almost done with the album.” Harry says.

“Yeah, it's coming along really nicely.” Y/N replies, looking over at him. “It's a good one, Harry. Really.”

“Thank you.” Harry smiles. “It wouldn't be the same without you.”

“Of course it would.” Y/N smiles, blushing a little.

“No, it wouldn't.” Harry shakes his head, his eyes on hers. “You've been such a big part of it.”

“It's your music, your songs. It's a big part of you, Harry.” Y/N says, not breaking the eye contact.

“Exactly, but it's your words. Your inspiration. Your heart.” Harry replies, his eyes falling on her lips for a split second.

“Well, I'm glad I could help.” Y/N whispers, her heart pounding in her chest.

“I've never felt like this when writing songs, Y/N.” Harry admits. “It's almost like... I don't know.”

“Like what?” Y/N asks.

“I don't know, it's different. More, more real. More meaningful. Something like that.” Harry says, a smile playing on his lips.

“It's the Italian air.” Y/N says, her eyes looking up at the sky.

“It's you.” Harry corrects her. “Your presence.”

“I'm sure it's just the Italian air.” Y/N says, looking down. She is afraid that if she looks at Harry, her feelings will be obvious and she doesn't want that.

“I'm serious.” Harry says, placing his hand on her chin and making her look at him.

“So am I.” Y/N whispers, her heart beating even faster.

“Then prove it.” Harry challenges her, his hand still on her chin.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“Prove it.” Harry repeats, his eyes falling down to her lips again.

“How?” Y/N asks, her voice barely audible.

“Kiss me.” Harry whispers.

“Harry...” Y/N starts, shaking her head.

“Y/N.” Harry says, his voice firm. “Kiss me.”

[avalentina]

My newest fic, this one will most likely end up being published as a series. For now it is in my Harry Styles page on my Masterlist. I'm not sure how long it will be, and I'm still working on the story itself so it might be a bit before I post more, but the poll showed that about 2/3 of you wanted it now. So without further ado ...

Word count: 4,074

Warnings: bits of anxiety, depression, feeling overwhelmed; Robin Twist's death, grief; unnamed douchebags who want you for your money and title

Noble!Harry (Peerage!Harry) x Princess!Y/N

Note: This story features certain words in multiple languages mainly traditional Chinese, but I have put the English word or phrase in parentheses directly after the translated word or phrase.

Ex: Mǔqīn (Mother)

The Princess's Lover

Zero: Enchanted Love

(any and all pictures are not mine, all I do is collage them, pictures of Harry are a reference for his appearance during the specific moment, all other pictures are only for the purpose of an outfit/hairstyle/accessory, Y/N can look however you would like her to)

I remember the day as though it was just yesterday. Hard to believe it was closer to five years ago now.

(FLASHBACK)

I was at yet another ball, sometimes it feels like my parents, the King and Queen of MiraZhou, host one every week. I'm 19 year old Princess Y/N, the only girl to graduate from my private high school without ever being kissed. I've had a few offers for courtship, none of which I've accepted, all of them just a family's desperate attempt to increase their wealth, status, and favor in the eyes of my parents. I'm being the perfect princess, as I usually tend to be. I've never found anything I wanted to rebel for, I mean I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have more choice in my life, but I guess you could say I'm terrified to actually find out what that would really entail.

This ball tonight was a masquerade, not that it actually made a difference in my case, seeing as I’m stuck wearing a tiara. The one I'm wearing may be my second favorite tiara, and my favorite formal tiara, but it does a wonderful job at making it known exactly who I am. For that reason, I've actually been trying to avoid talking to anyone at tonight’s ball.

It’s not until I’m summoned to my parents’ side for the formal ‘thank you for hosting’ part of the night that my care for this particular event heightens. My family knows everyone in our court based on their voices alone. As a family of four gets to the front of the line. I recognize the voices as Duke Desmond, Duchess Anne, and Lady Gemma of Duchy Holmeshire, but it’s their son that I can’t say I’m familiar with. As they make their approach, I catch eyes with him, the soft green of them is mesmerizing, I feel as though I could get lost in them and just be happy.

“And I see Lord Harry has returned from University, Cambridge in England correct?” My father asks Lord Harry directly.

“Yes, your majesty, uh sir.” Lord Harry replies, fumbling his words slightly probably to do with being away for so long, but he has an english accent that he must’ve developed during his time abroad, and it definitely suits him well.

“It’s good to have you back in MiraZhou Lord Harry.” My mother says, offering him a gracious smile. “I don’t believe you’ve formally met Princess Y/N?” she adds.

“I have not, It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, your highness.” Harry says to me as we make eye contact again and he does another short bow.

I can’t help the wide smile that appears on my face as I return the introduction. “Likewise Lord Harry,” I say and offer him my hand to kiss. A gesture I don’t give out lightly, and you can tell that by the tiny gasp that slips out of my mother’s mouth before she stifles it, and the way Duchess Anne’s smile grows a tad bit wider.

As the Styles family of Holmeshire takes their leave so the next group of nobles can greet us, Harry and I caught eyes one more time and I mouthed silently ‘bye’ with yet another wide smile.

After the “thank you’s” were over, my mother and father turned to each other. I heard my mother tell my father, “I’ll invite them to the palace for dinner one day next week.” I smiled to myself and excused myself for a brief restroom break, that I spent staring at where Harry had kissed my hand, remembering the softness of his lips, and how I really hope he didn’t have any other potential matches. Harry and I didn’t get another chance to talk that night, but we always seemed to be catching each other’s eyes, even from across the large ballroom.

“Y/N, darling, the Duke and Duchess of Holmeshire will be joining us for dinner tomorrow night.” My mother said at breakfast that following Tuesday morning. My attention perked up at that.

“Are Lady Gemma and Lord Harry joining them?” I asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Not this time, but they both will be joining their parents here for dinner on Thursday night.” She said with a smile that I returned. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up about a courtship dear. Tomorrow night will allow your father and I to find out about Lord Harry’s current status, and any potential matches he may already have.”

“I know Mǔqīn (Mother), thank you, and I apologize for my obvious reaction, I’ll work on those some more.” I say, apologizing.

“Xiǎo jiāhuo (little one), we're happy you're actually excited about a possible courtship. I saw the way you lit up that night, it reminded me of how happy the first few conversations I had with your mother made me. Which is why you, Lizabeth, and Helena will be having dinner in the slumber party suite you used to enjoy. That way we can shield you from whatever potential hurt there may possibly be.” Father adds to mother's comment.

“And darling, your expressions are wonderful, a princess should not be void of emotion, nor always show indifference, your emotion shows your honesty in that feeling and that is what makes you an amazing princess. Your manners and etiquette are exactly where they should be. True feeling is just as important as manners and etiquette. Now run along, you have classes to get to.” Mother finishes out our conversation. I love attending University, it's the only time I'm allowed to wear jogger pants and hoodies in public. With no makeup or tiara or heeled shoes. I am intentionally supposed to look unimportant, because it does help me blend in a little bit more and instead of eight guards I only have three, all dressed down to appear as students as well.

My midnight violet Lamborghini centenario topless with ‘gongzhu (princess)’ as the license plate is the closest resemblance to royalty I get. After my classes for the day are done, Creyton, who is my lead guard, and I head to my favorite nearby pizza truck for a slice each before we return to the palace. Our usual nearby chess table is taken today and when I look again, it's none other than Lord Harry and a friend of his playing while enjoying a slice as well.

I elect to take the table next to them which happens to be open. As Creyton and I begin our setup and start talking, Harry turns to me, having probably recognized my voice.

“Your highness, what brings you out into the city today?” He asks quietly, careful to avoid drawing attention to me. He turns to Creyton and offers a handshake.

“I attend university in the city, so classes, but my lead guard, Creyton here, and I usually stop for a slice or two and a few plays on a chessboard before heading back.” I say with a small smile.

“We really should be going Y/N.” Creyton comments, now that I've been ‘recognized’ we have to head straight back or risk breaking protocol, and I like having Creyton around too much to let him get fired for something as simple as a protocol violation.

“I'll see you at dinner on Thursday night H.” I say to him, not wanting to compromise his lunch either. With that I head back to my car. Creyton follows me closely and we met up with the other two members of my security team. They share a very brief ten to fifteen second report before we get into the cars and head back to the palace.

“Princess, you know you're not supposed to talk to anyone besides me during that time, and you're definitely not allowed to advertise my name and who I am.” Creyton says to me during the quiet drive back to the palace.

“I know, I'm sorry Creyton, I wasn't expecting Lord Harry to be there, let alone at our usual table. It won't happen again, and I fully understand any repercussions that arise.

Lizabeth and Helena were not the best of distraction that night. Especially considering all they talked about was Lord Harry's return from England, and how attractive he is.

“Ladies, please, his parents are downstairs having dinner with my parents.” I say aloud and both girls turn to me.

“He's here? Lord Harry is here? Y/N please you have to introduce us.” Lizabeth practically begs.

“He, is not here, just his parents, and I will consider introducing you after they find out if he's available for a match. And if he is, I've pretty much already got dibs, I hope. Did you two miss the candids of him kissing my hand and the wide, stupid smile on my face.”

“Oh my God, Y/N has a crush! It's about time.” Lizabeth squeals.

“And on that note, we promise to back off, but if he has any extremely attractive friends please promise to introduce us.” Helena states and I smile.

“I know he has at least one semi-attractive friend. But he definitely wasn't from here. His accent sounded way too Irish.” I said and they both just looked at me. “I’ll look into it, I promise, just not right now.” They both grumbled a bit, but agreed.

It was late Thursday morning when my mother and father both entered the study I use for my schoolwork. I have three different 20 page essays due next week so I decided to have one of the kitchen staff bring breakfast to my study. I just finished finalizing and submitting one, and was polishing the second when they knocked. I closed my laptop so I wouldn’t be distracted by my essay while they told me whatever it is they have to say.

“Look at you, working hard on your economics degree.” Father said, smiling proudly.

“But that’s not why we’re here Damien.” Mother interrupts before he can continue on that line of topic further. “We’re here because we thought you might want to know more about Lord Harry Styles before dinner tonight.” She continued.

“He is not currently courting anyone, and Duchess Anne mentioned that he asked her to help him get up to speed on where you’re at and what has been keeping you occupied lately.” Father said and I legit squealed. It felt like hundreds of thousands of butterflies were dancing in my stomach. “We figured that would be your reaction and wanted to make sure you had ample time to put your finest princess foot forward for dinner tonight. We’ve arranged a walk through the rose garden for the two of you before dinner starts. Lord Harry will be here at four, and dinner is at six.” He finished saying.

“So in girl terms, you might want to start getting ready now.” Mother added with a smile and I quickly excused myself and hugged them both before taking off towards my rooms at nearly a full sprint.

“Mel, Marie, Helga!” I hollered into the staff door from my entry room. Mel and Marie are my new ladies maids and Helga is assisting them in learning everything before she officially retires next month. The girls tie half of my hair up into a braid and a bun, and then curl the remaining pieces, I have a simple gold and diamond tiara, gold gladiator flats, and a one shoulder golden gown. I ended up on the gold because i knew it would reflect in the sun during our walk, and it’s also a color I’ve always loved wearing. Plus it’s proven to be a confidence booster, and I have a feeling i’m going to be in need of a lot of that tonight. Other than my title, I have no idea what I have going for me in regards to why I’d make a good match. Though I’d rather he like Y/N, rather than just Princess Y/N. I needed to be radiant tonight, for myself, although, who wouldn’t want to look golden?

At exactly 3:56 pm I make my way towards the main palace entrance, it’s a solid five minute walk from my rooms, and it usually takes guests anywhere between fifty and seventy-five seconds to go from the drive, up the stairs, and finally step inside the doors. Which means that if I timed this correctly he should be just stepping inside the doors as I step off the last step to get to the entry foyer.

I maintain my normal pace and arrive to the front entry in exactly five minutes. However when I get there, Harry is already waiting for me in a mostly black suit, a bit of gold on the shirt, and a black suede hat.

“My apologies Lord Harry, it took a bit longer to get ready than I had anticipated.” I said to him as soon as I had made my approach.

“Well, it was well worth the minute long wait, you look radiant your highness.” He says back with a bow. “Shall we?” He suggests and holds his arm out for me to take.

“You’ll have 12 feet of privacy.” My mother informs us as I take his arm and we depart. I wave a small goodbye to my mother and father before turning all of my focus onto my walk with Harry.

“You’re going to have to guide me, I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea where we’re supposed to be going.” He says with a small chuckle.

“I suppose, though getting lost does sometimes lead to finding something unique, fascinating, and totally unexpected. A left at the spiral hedge just up ahead.” I say.

“That’s true, it’s an adventure, that much is for sure.” He replies with a smile.

We walk in silence for a minute or so as we enter the rose garden. He pauses just before the first fountain.

“Why me?” He asks a few seconds after we stopped. He’s staring into my eyes and I can’t help but stare back. “My mum told me that you have a habit of turning down courtships, and being very selective about who you let kiss your hand, so why let me? I mean you could have your choice of princes from distant lands, lords with so much more wealth, and fame than myself, the male heirs of duchies that make mine look infintesimal.”

“I hope this isn’t awkward of me to say but to be honest, the first time we caught each other’s eyes, I felt like I could be lost in the soft green of them for eons and be happy for each second of that time. That’s not a feeling i’ve ever had before.” I say, he smiles and the way it lights up his entire being is pure magic. I can’t help but smile too. “It’s actually why I wore gold today, I knew I would struggle to say what I wanted to…”

“And you needed the confidence boost?” He finished my exact thought. I nodded and he smiled again. “Me too, I knew I would need it to even manage to say a word to you.” He continued as we started walking again. “I can't help but feel leagues below you.”

The conversation flowed so easily from there, it was one of the easiest conversations I've ever had. We talked about university, our degrees, our families, our childhoods, my dogs, our favorite books, movies, shows, anything and everything. As we approached the entrance again he paused one more time.

“I’d like to have another outing with you soon, and I also want to aopolgize for making you violate protocol in the park the other day.” He says to me, and I have never met someone who means everything so genuinely, who is so kind hearted, and it just feels almost right to be around him.

“I’d like that as well, and as far as the other day is concerned, that is my fault, I know not to engage with the public while undercover like that, I couldn’t stop myself though, because it was you and I wanted to have a conversation with you.” I say back, desperately hoping it’s not too much.

“May I?” he asks and begins to reach for my hand. I gladly let him take it and press his soft lips to it once again. I feel the blush rising in my cheeks, and I smile as he offers me his arm once again. We make our return in silence, just sharing smiles with each other.

Harry and I had about two outings each week for the next couple of months, but he still hadn’t asked for permission to court me. It was beginning to stress me out to the point where my parents took us down to one outing every other week. We would text in between, but I was still terrified that he would never ask me, that he didn’t see in me what I saw in him. The every other week outings turned into two outings over a three month period, the texts had stopped, and I was afraid that I was going to have to accept a courtship out of obligation rather than want. It might sound weird, but after almost seven months of knowing Lord Harry Styles, I was in love with him. I was in love with someone who didn’t even want to court me.

The Styles family joined us for dinner on a Monday night, and I was to tell Harry that a courtship was no longer an option, I was to be courting another Lord within the week. I was at least happy my parents agreed to let me tell him privately with a chaperone just twenty feet away.

When they arrived that night, something felt different between all of them, something had happened to them. I was dressed in a ruby red and gold Qipao with a gold plated ruby and diamond tiara, my hair was pulled back into a woven ponytail style with curls for volume. Harry was in all black except for his shoes which were a camel color, and his long hair was also pulled back. It was the first time I had seen it that way, and it was definitely doing something for me, no matter how much I wished it hadn’t. When he finally removed his sunglasses for dinner, I had initially wondered why he was wearing them in the first place, but I saw firsthand why, when he politely removed them before dinner. His normally bright, soft green eyes were slightly puffy, he had definitely been crying.

Dinner was terribly quiet, no one felt like talking, Harry seemed to be trying to avoid eye contact with me and it felt like everything was seriously ending. I excused myself for a few moments which I used to try and compose myself, what I was about to do was beginning to feel overwhelming and almost painful. As I went to make my return, Harry was already waiting for me in the rose parlor as my family called it. It looked out to the rose garden and the vases were filled with roses of all colors.

“Harry? Did something happen? Your entire family was quiet during dinner, it worries me.” I asked him quietly.

“Yes, I’m not sure how much you actually know, but my parents aren’t actually together. My mum maintained her title when they split just because of how loved she was by the people of Holmeshire, your parents actually had to approve it. I was only seven when they split, and have maintained a relationship with both of them, my mother moreso though. She has had two relationships since, one which none of us speak to anymore, and the other, Robin, he passed from cancer a little over three months ago. It was getting progressively worse and I just knew I needed to be there for my mum, which is why I stopped texting you, and why it was hard to find time to see you. You have to believe me when I say I wanted to see you, Robin was a good man, he made sure I had good values, and taught me that it’s actually ok for a man to cry.” Harry explains to me, I just sit and listen quietly, knowing he just needs to get all of this out. “My mum has been trying to slowly reconnect herself back to my father over the past six weeks and while it is definitely an adjustment for all of us, I want to start doing things for myself again, rather than just doing things for my family, I want to get back to spending more time with you.” He finishes speaking, and the tears I have been trying to force down, overflow.

“Harry, we can’t, my parents are expecting me to start pursuing other potential matches at tomorrow night’s ball. I’m supposed to tell you that,” I cry while trying to explain it all to him. Harry being the gentle and beautiful soul he is, uses his thumbs to wipe away my tears. I take a few deep breaths before continuing, “Harry I’m to tell you that courtship is no longer an option for us, I’m meant to tell you goodbye, and it breaks my heart to say that to you. I… I need to go.” I say and attempt to rush out but Harry stops me with one word, “wait.”

“Y/N it’s not tomorrow yet, let me try one thing.” He says and steps closer to me.

“Harry, we shouldn’t, I can’t, you can’t do anything Harry, our chaperone is right there, just twenty feet away, and my father…”

“Relax, I’m not going to do anything like that, I want to ask for permission to court you in front of everyone, tonight.” He says with a smile.

“I suppose it’s worth a try, I don’t want to say goodbye to you Har.” I say softly.

“Then it’s settled, and we’re doing this now.” He offers me his arm and I take it, hoping it won’t be the last time.

When we get back to the dinner parlor where everyone else is, still sitting in silence. Harry grabs their attention immediately.

“Excuse me your majesties, Princess Y/N has just informed me of everything, and it upsets me greatly, especially because with my family’s recent loss of Robin, I needed to take time to put them first, and put their well being above my own, even though I would have much rather been spending that time with her highness. Which is why since it’s not tomorrow yet, I’d like to ask you for your formal permission to begin a courtship with her highness Princess Y/N.” Harry announces.

“I suppose you are correct Lord Harry, it is not tomorrow yet, and I suppose…” my father begins, turning to look at my mother, who nods at him, before continuing. “I suppose that my wife and I can excuse your recent absence and forgive you for upsetting our daughter.” he wraps up.

“And as long as it’s what the Princess wants…” My mother picks up and looks at me, I nod eagerly, a wide, bright smile returning to my face for the first time in months.

“It is, it’s everything I want.” I say happily.

“Then you have our permission, and our blessing to court Princess Y/N.” My father announces. I’m just so happy that I was wrong about Harry not wanting me, I hug him. He’s surprised at first, but hugs me back almost immediately. It’s the best feeling in the entire world, to be in his strong arms, I'm impossibly happy.

“Okay, that’s long enough.” My mother says as my father wraps an arm around her waist.

“Sorry mother,” I say, breaking apart from Harry. He takes my hand and kisses the back of it though.

The conversation for the night livens up after that. Harry and I are allowed to sit next to each other on one of the couches. We’re holding both of each other’s hands and whispering to each other for the entire rest of the hour. Just before we go our separate ways for the night he whispers the best phrase in the entire world to me.

He simply says, “I love you,” squeezes my hands again, kisses them both, and heads towards the Velychnyy (Majestic) Suite.

Hope you enjoyed!

As a quick reminder as of 1/17/24, I'm still working on this story, I don't want to post any of it until I'm finished writing it (mostly potential format changes) so please be patient with me and let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future The Princess's Lover (TPL) posts by commenting below!

-Ava

[cinemastyles-blog]

Very smutty one shot that was a request on Wattpad will be out soon!

[gurugirl]

Ooohh this teaser!! Oh my gosh this sounds so good court!

And congrats on the patreon!!! Eeeee so exciting!! 🎉🎉

Filthy Cute - Patreon Sneak Peek

COMING SOON TO PATREON!!

Summary: You and Harry are in a secret relationship, and you get a little jealous when you think he’s flirting with your friend.

Warnings: age gap, forbidden relationship, smut, spanking, possessiveness, oral sex, dirty talk, fingering, edging, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, breeding kink. 18+ ONLY!

Author's Notes: This is a little bit of a twist on the older!harry trope. This is lhh but he’s older and he’s not a CEO or super rich, but a musician who’s already had his moment in the spotlight. While there are no specific ages given, y/n is still living with her parents after college, and Harry is somewhere in his 30s. The title is taken from a lyric of the Prince song “Cream”.

SNEAK PEEK BELOW!

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. But you noticed the dimples in his cheeks and the gleam in his eye. He was loving the attention.

Fortunately, just at that moment, the GPS directed Harry to turn right into Piper’s neighborhood. Then making a quick left, and another right, he pulled into her parents’ driveway. Opening the trunk, he quickly retrieved the cooler, setting it down on the pavement. Piper grabbed the buckets from the back seat next to you, giving you a look.

“I’ll call you later,” she mouthed.

You simply nodded. She thanked you again for helping out before shutting the door. You heard her thank Harry as he dragged the cooler up the driveway and onto the carport where he stopped and gave her a hug. You didn’t miss the way he pulled her close when she threw her arms around him. You pretended to be inspecting your nails when he returned to the car and slid in behind the wheel.

“Do you wanna get in the front seat now?” he asked you.

“No,” you replied curtly, gazing out the window.

“What? Why not?”

Sighing through your nose, you lifted your eyes. “She’s still watching,” you muttered.

“Oh,” Harry sounded, stealing a glance back at Piper. “So. You can still come sit up here beside me.”

“It’s okay,” you said.

Shifting the car into reverse, Harry stretched his arm across the back of the passenger seat, his expression berating, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Something wrong with you, Y/N?” he asked as he backed out of the driveway. Then shifting into drive, he gave a quick wave to Piper who waved back before heading down her street.

“No.”

“Y/N?” His jade eyes met yours again in the rearview mirror as he turned onto the main road. You rode in silence for a minute or two before he said your name again. “Y/N. What is it, kitten?”

You scoffed at his pet name for you, the sound of it from his lips making you even more perturbed. How dare he use it now after what he’d just so blatantly done in front of you!

“What the fuck was that?” you blurted, the jealousy that had been boiling in your gut finally making its way to your mouth.

“What was what?”

“That!”

“Wh- you’ll have to be more specific, love. What is that?”

“There are no specifics. It was the whole afternoon. Ever since you arrived! You were fucking flirting with her the entire time! Right in front of me!”

“I was not!”

“Yes, you were! Don’t try to deny it, Harry! I was there. I saw it with my own eyes!”

You saw Harry’s shoulders shake as he was no doubt laughing silently at your expense. Asshole.

“Y/N, I was not flirting with your friend. If anything, she was coming on to me.”

“But you let her,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest again in defiance.

“What was I supposed to do, kitten? Tell her about us? I know that’s not what you want.”

“No,” you shook your head. “But you didn’t have to act like you enjoyed it.”

Harry chuckled, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes. You scowled, knowing he did that on purpose so you couldn’t see his expression and if he was looking at you.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N. I’ve told you I’m yours, that you’re the only one I care about. I can’t help it if your cute friend decided to flirt with me.”

“So, you admit you thought she was cute.”

Harry’s condescending laugh rang throughout the car as he made a left turn. “I’m not even going to respond to that, kitten. I did nothing wrong. I helped out you and your friend with her little charity thing. It was a nice thing to do. And I offered you both a ride because it’s also a nice thing to do.”

“You know, you don’t always have to be so goddamn charming,” you huffed.

“And you don’t have to be such a brat.”

Even with his shades on, you could tell he was getting angry with you. Fine, you thought. Let him. You’d been angry ever since he’d shown up.

When he turned onto your street, you noticed he didn’t slow down when he approached your house.

“You- you passed my house,” you commented.

“Not taking you home,” said Harry.

You huffed as he kept driving and only slowed when he neared his own driveway. Biting your lip, you watched him pull into the garage, put the car in park and turn off the engine. Slipping off his shades, he eyed you in the mirror before exiting the car and walking around to your side.

“Get out,” he commanded when he opened your door. When you didn’t, he held out his hand. “C’mon, kitten, don’t make Daddy angry.”

You gazed up at him then, your eyes wide. You only used the D word in the bedroom. Was he planning to take you there now? Hesitantly, you took his hand and let him help you out of the car. When he slammed the door shut, you noticed his jaw was set, his brows knitted again. Dropping your hand, he headed for door, pushing the button to close the garage.

Once inside, he dropped his keys on the kitchen counter, and with his back to you, he opened the refrigerator to grab a beer, guzzling half of it before shutting the door. You wondered for a moment why he’d driven you to his place and made you get out of the car if he was just going to give you the silent treatment. But when he turned to face you, his expression stoic, you worried he was even angrier than you’d thought.

“You’re a brat, Y/N. You know that, yeah?”

“No, I-”

“Don’t talk back to me. You know I’m right.” Setting the beer on the counter, he walked toward you.

“I wasn’t trying to be a brat, Harry,” you argued, your emotions building up in your throat. “I didn’t like seeing you…looking at Piper…the way you look at me.”

“Are you serious, kitten?” Harry tilted his head. “There is no fucking way I was-”

“Well, it seemed like it to me!” you exclaimed, your fists at your sides.

“C’mere!” Harry shouted, grabbing your arm. He led you through the living room, down the hall to his bedroom. “Do you need me to prove that I’m only looking at you?”

Sitting down on the bed, Harry wiggled his finger, beckoning you.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Bend over. Brats deserve a spanking.”

You simply stared him in disbelief, not moving an inch.

“C’mon, little girl,” he demanded. “You must be punished.”

“Harry, I-”

“Nope. Not Harry. You don’t get to call me that when you’re being a brat.”

A whimper rose from your throat. He was really planning on spanking you. To prove a point? You weren’t sure exactly.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered before bending over his lap.

If you'd like to read more, please consider joining my Patreon!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[sowakemeup4ls]

Dirty Talk

103k - Explicit

“Can I buy you a drink?”

The man looked up from his phone, but not at Louis. He stared straight ahead of him, slowly smiling to himself.

“You can, but it won’t mean anything,” his voice was silky and deep like his cleavage, Louis noticed.

“It’s a drink, how could it mean anything?”

or Louis and Harry meet at a corporate party and it all seems meaningless until it isn't

so this one is my first baby, be gentle:)

[freedomfireflies]

I dont know if you have any teasers for what youre working on next but …if you have any for the open relationship one, I would love some crumbs 👀

And now here you are, wondering if you really are about to go through with it.

“You…you want to help?” you ask him again, and he nods. 

“If you want me to.” Another squeeze to your knee. “Kitten, there’s no pressure here. It’s just a conversation. And if we decide no, then we won’t, and it’ll be all right.”

“But it’s…I mean, won’t it be like cheating?” Your hands begin to twist together on your lap. “What if you regret it? Or what if she regrets it?”

“We won’t. We agreed to this,” he says, and he’s still so calm. “This only works if she and I are honest. We know that. And we want to try new things, new people. Plus, she adores you. I do, too. But if you think it feels like cheating, then we don’t have to. We can end the conversation right now.”

A beat. He lets this settle.

“But if you want to try,” he continues softly, “then we’ll ease into it. We’ll go at a pace you’re comfortable. Yeah? This is all up to you.”

You feel your cheeks growing warm. He’s so good. “What if I’m not any good? And you’ve wasted your time? And I made this weird for no reason?”

He smiles, and his eyes are like meadows. Soft and serene. He straightens up just enough to brush his thumb along your chin and relax you.

“There is no possible world where you aren’t good,” he murmurs, and somehow…you believe him. “But if you’re nervous, we’ll plan for that, too. We’ll communicate. I can help you find what makes you feel good.”

You walked into his apartment—into their apartment—sure you wouldn’t be doing it. Sure that there was no way you’d ever believe this to be a good idea.

But here you are, seriously considering it. Teetering on the edge of agreement, ready to fall into his arms.

“Are you sure you want to?” you ask him again. “Are you sure you don’t just feel bad for me?”

His brows pinch together, and he seems confused. But he’s still smiling. “Kitten, believe me. There is nothing I have ever wanted to do more. Sex is intimate and it’s tricky and it’s confusing. And you should only ever be with someone that makes you feel good. Feel safe. And if I can be that person for you, then I want to be. As long as you want me to be, too.”

And you do. You do. You aren’t sure if you even realized how badly until now.

You nod, and his touch lowers. “Okay,” you decide. “Okay, I want to.”

~~~

I know we can't really tell from the preview, but it's just gonna be reader and Harry! There won't be a third party! 💞

Based on this request!

[gurugirl]

Possibly post a teaser for a Balancing act ch 2 pls pls 👀👀👀

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE!

Teaser from Part 2 of A Balancing Act (part 2 will be posted June 22 @ 3pm CST)

Y/n wasn’t sure how to feel about Harry’s little stunt. He seemed like such a genuinely sweet guy that it felt a little out of character. Though she got some glimpses of his pushy, dominant side in bed, she hadn’t seen any of that persona transfer outside of the bedroom. Not when he first introduced himself, not in any of their conversations on the phone… But she guessed perhaps there was a part of him that would come out in this way. And she couldn’t lie and say she didn’t enjoy it all deep down.

But still. The nerve of him to sit at the table she and her date would be sharing and drink wine while he waited for them. Then to look at her the way he had, his eyes blatantly following her shape down to her hips and back up again with that grin… The compliment. And then to have their bill paid for. It was a power move. He was trying to assert dominance over Dante in some way. Even though Dante was annoyingly clueless somehow. She thought for sure he’d be livid about it but he wasn’t.

Dante was a little too nice she decided.

And it’s not like Y/n thought her date should be upset. She didn’t want two men fighting over her or anything. But the part of her that kind of liked what Harry had done, liked that he was trying to stake a claim or send a message- wanted to see what Dante had in him. Wanted maybe just a tiny bit to see him jealous or even insist on paying despite the fact that Harry said he would. Dante didn’t seem threatened at all. She shook her head of those thoughts. How silly for Y/n to even think that he should feel that way. Of course not!

And she couldn’t stop thinking about how good he looked in his suit and his thick dark hair with soft curls as she and her date neared the table he was casually sitting at. The handsome smug look on his face as he watched them. And all the while Dante was talking about his recent gallery show she was now stuck thinking about the night she and the famous man shared together. That was probably part of what he intended as well, showing up like he did. To set the tone for the entire date. He knew what he was doing. And it had worked.

“Excuse me. I need to run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

She took a deep breath as she walked into the restaurant and followed the dingy signs that pointed toward the little hallway where the two bathrooms were. A single toilet room each for women and men.

Flicking the light on and clicking the lock she leaned into the door and closed her eyes. She had to give herself a pep talk.

“You’re here with a perfectly nice and handsome man. Same interests, a level head, funny, humble…”

And Dante was all those things. But something was missing. Something was holding her back from truly enjoying his company. And she knew just what it was. It was because he wasn’t Harry. And even if Harry hadn’t made his surprise appearance to discombobulate her completely, interrupting her date, she would have still felt the same.

Just as she pushed herself off the door there was a knock, “Sorry! Be right out!”

Y/n washed her hands and dried them before opening the door. But in a shocking split-second, she was met with the handsome smile of the man she couldn’t stop thinking about as he walked into the bathroom, causing her to step herself backward. Harry closed the door and clicked the lock.

“Harry! What are you doing?!”

Harry smirked and leaned his back into the door, “How’s the date going?”

Crossing her arms over her chest she tried to feign annoyance but she was working hard to hide her own grin, “It’s fine. I like Dante. Why are you still here?”

“I figured I’d see if you were free after. I brought some things with me that I think you might enjoy.”

She paused. He brought some things? What did that mean?

“I can’t believe I told you where my date was,” she shook her head and sighed.

“I’m sure you did it because you hoped for this very outcome.”

“Oh come on, Harry. I actually didn’t think you’d even come here this weekend, to be honest.”

Harry stitched his brows together and pushed himself off the door, taking two long-legged strides toward her, and brought his hands up to her face, “Well I am here. And I want you, Y/n. I don’t care that you’re on a fucking date. That should be me sitting out there getting to take you out,” he jabbed a finger in the air toward the door before returning his palm to her cheek.

Her blood pumped quickly through her veins and her head felt fluttery and light as she watched his mouth and then looked at his eyes as he spoke. His hair was fluffy and soft and his hands on her face felt gentle but she knew what they could do. All the very opposite things of gentle that had awakened some kind of indulgent new requirement. She wanted to put up a good fight. Make him work harder. Make him beg a little even. He’d kissed another woman! For god’s sake, she should make him grovel. But he was there. With her. Looking at her like he did that last morning they were together when they were making plans to keep contact until they could see one another again.

She didn’t know how to respond. If she were responding candidly, she’d tell him that yeah, it should be him out there treating her to dinner and not Dante. That she hadn’t been able to get him off her mind and last night, even though she had this date lined up, it was Harry’s image that she orgasmed to when she masturbated. In fact, it had only been Harry she got off to since she’d had that night with him nearly two months ago.

Harry tilted his head and spoke softly, “Please, Y/n. Do you want me to get on my knees? Beg? Or,” a small devious smirk quirked up on his lips as he licked them and ducked in to speak into her ear, his body pressed into hers, “maybe you want this. You like the chase, don’t you? Is that what you want? Trying to play hardball with me, sweet girl?”

She was a goner the moment his lips brushed over the shell of her ear and he brought his hands down from her face to her hips and pulled her in close. A small warm peck to her lobe, “What is it that you want me to do? I’ll do it.”

Y/n drew her hands up his back to his broad shoulders and moaned as she stretched her neck for him, “You shouldn’t be here. I’m in the middle of a date.”

[1800titz]

BEG | extra/continuation for ROLL OVER

couple’s costume gone wild, pet play (soft)

A continuation of ROLL OVER (from kinktober)

preview

He ducks his chin over you, angling your jaw up with his hand, and the kiss he gives you is a reminder of the molten heat that rolls in your underbelly. It simmers in your veins and leaves you breathless. Smoldering the same slow burn along the nooks of your lungs when he gives it to you with his tongue— and all you can do is breathe it in. You taste it along his gums when you prod with your tongue— the same kind of fire that’s thrumming low between your hips. His palm slinks to your throat, where your pulse is a throbbing hum under the cheap choker. The makeshift collar. The tattered leash, clipped onto the front, that he’s still got wound across his other hand. It’s bliss, wrapped in faux leather. 

A man, curled over you like that, is—

Power. Authority. Command across the hummingbird purr at your jugular. It makes your head itch. Swim. You cant your hips like you can’t help it. 

“What are you trying to do, puppy?” Harry murmurs against your tongue. Slick. Hot. You swallow his breath and dig your fingertips into your thighs, rocking, tasting his words, “—Hump my shoe like a little dog?”

[enchantedlandcoffee]

Heaven Help a Fool Who Falls in Love - Coming Soon Written for @1dteamworkfest

Dual POV | Kid Fic | Enemies to Lovers Written by @enchantedlandcoffee and @ohharold

Come and visit the town of Canyon Moon, a place for everyone to be themselves. Read about the lives of single parents Louis and Harry as they navigate a date gone wrong, a barn renovation and two kids who absolutely adore their father figures.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Styles, considering we're going to be working together for the foreseeable future. I don't like you. I don't like your attitude towards me and I especially don't like how close you are with my son. However, since we need to be civil, I am willing to put my feelings aside and call a temporary truce for the sake of being professional."

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[strawberrylipsandoceaneyes]

The through line in Heaven is 100% Grapejuice.