anonymous asked:

Can you write something with Harry and the reader they are best friends but one day they fight and maybe Harry realize that he is in love with her

This is my first Bestfriend! Harry and honestly, I loved writing about it!! It’s slightly different than you requested, but ohhhh well! here you go :)

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You’re My Number One

She could still clearly recall the night that Harry had first entered into her life. She had agreed to meet her new friend at a local pub– one that had been considerably posher than the pubs she would typically visit. As she had strolled into the luxurious building, her eyes scanned the room for her friend, someone who she had grown extremely close with through their shared university courses. As her eyes landed upon her friend, she felt her mouth drop open in surprise, for lounging beside her friend was the one and only, Nick Grimshaw. It just so happened that her friend and Nick were old family friends and he had invited himself along for a casual night out. She had tried to remain calm throughout the night and acted as if hanging out with Nick Grimshaw was not the most exciting thing to ever happen to her (although it definitely was_. However, as the night dragged on and more alcoholic drinks were gulped back, she found herself even more startled at the unexpected appearance of the international superstar himself, Harry Edward Styles. Apparently Harry and Nick had been exchanging text messages throughout the night, and Nick had ultimately invited Harry to ditch the club where he was partying and meet up with Nick. And although she was completely star struck, she and Harry had somehow hit it off with one another.

And that, my friends, is how the friendship of Y/N Y/L/N and Harry Styles first began. And yes, I do mean just a friendship, for a relationship never blossomed between her and Harry. In fact, she and Harry were so close that they considered themselves as best friends. They had become comfortable with one another in a way that neither of them had with anyone before, for they were able to open up with one another about the deepest and darkest periods of their lives; secrets that nobody else in the entire world knew about. For some odd reason, they could only laugh as loudly or smile as widely when it was together. If he had an idea for a song then she would be the very first person to hear it, even though he would nearly throw up from nerves each time he would perform it for her. Long story short, they had become embedded into each other’s lives to the point where they would be lost without one another.

However, their relationship had boundaries and many at that. Harry, of course, had slept many nights at her home, but never once was it in the same bed as her. In addition to this, neither of them would call each other when intoxicated, and the topic of relationships was avoided completely. They knew that once placed in the situation, they would not be able to control the words that fell from their mouth or the actions they made. You see, I may have said that a relationship never blossomed between her and Harry, but that does not mean that the feelings didn’t blossom.

Yes, she loved Harry and he loved her just as much. However, they had buried these feelings do deeply within themselves that they could no longer notice them. They could not accept the fate of this friendship, and although subconsciously they knew the love they had for one another, they had both convinced themselves that it was simply due to the strength of their friendship. But it was the way they would stare at each other for just a millisecond too long, or the friction that would result from their skin brushing, or even how heavily their hearts would pound before they would see each other each time. But they were best friends and nothing could ever allow them to throw that away.

But throughout their three years of friendship, it never hurt any less for her to see the media releasing news of Harry Styles’ new romances, one-night stands, and string of relationships. She would play it off as her being jealous about having to share her best friend, but subconsciously she knew the truth – she wanted it to be her…each and every time.

And on this particular day, it had become too much for her to handle.

Harry busted through the front door of her tiny home, briefly stopping by as usual before heading the recording studio. Finding her in the kitchen with a newspaper in her hand, Harry swiftly moved towards her to pull his best friend into his familiar embrace. However, as their bodies inched closer, Harry’s eyes fell upon the front page of her newspaper.

Harry Styles Rekindles Romance with Camille Rowe.

Harry’s uncomfortably took a step backwards, distancing the space between him and his best friend. She wondered why he always did this – leave her to discover his relationship from the media rather than just tell her himself. After all that they have been through together, why is she always the last to find out about his relationships? To be honest, Harry didn’t know why either.

“Ah, I was going to tell you,” Harry mumbled through his deep voice, awkwardly gliding his hand through his curly locks.

“Were you?” she asked, tilting her head ever so slightly and positing her hands on her hips.

Harry avoided the question, for he knew he wouldn’t have. “How do you feel about it?” he asked, his eyes fixated upon her in curiosity.

She spun on her heals and turned towards the kitchen sink, placing her used coffee mug in there. He watched her shoulders inflate as she took a deep breath. She then tossed her arms into the air and exclaimed, “I mean, I’m happy for you, Haz!”

Harry’s body shifted uncomfortably, feeling the disappointment wash throughout him. “You are?” he questioned “You’re happy for me?”

“Yeah,” she turned to face him and shrugged her shoulders as if it is no big deal. “I mean, if you think she is the one for you then I’m happy for you.”

He stared at her in silence, feeling the words on the tip of his tongue threatening to pill out of his mouth, but he bit them back before they were able to do so. And as usual, their stare was held for just a millisecond too long.

Harry left for Los Angeles just a few days later so that he could continue with his writing sessions for his upcoming album. He had visited before he left, of course, and everything felt completely normal between them. He had pulled her into his embrace – one that is strange for “friends,” but as I said before, they subconsciously could not come to terms with their feelings. Before turning to leave, he left a quick kiss on the top of her head and promised to call her as much as he possibly could. She had laughed lightly and kissed his cheek before saying her famous phrase, “Go get em’ superstar.”

But when Harry returned home three weeks later, something was just different. Walking into the home of his best friend, he was surprised at the sight of a male’s shoes in the doorway. Feeling his eyebrow raise with curiosity, he pushed his way further into the home, following the sound of his best friend’s laughter.

And that’s where he saw them – his best friend and another man, cuddled on the couch and laughing hysterically at something on the television. She was so captivated by him that she did not even see Harry standing in the doorway with a frazzled expression evident upon his face. But when she did spot him, she had squealed his name and jumped from the couch, almost as if she did not want Harry to see her like that. She had then raced towards Harry and thrown her arms around his neck while straddling his body with her legs. Harry, however, had been completely disengaged and had barely even returned the hug.

“Is everything okay, Haz?” she had asked.

“Ah, what? Yeah, fine,” he had mumbled. “So who is this?”

“Oh…Harry, this is Lucas,” she had informed him. “We met while you were away.”

Throughout her three yeas of friendship with Harry, she had never been romantically liked with anyone. Meanwhile, she watched from the sidelines as Harry had females come and go in his life. Never did he imagine it would be so hard to see her with another man, but in this moment, he felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. He instantly regretted all of the girls he had in the past three years.

Harry had pulled her into the kitchen, indicating that he wanted to speak with her privately. Her eyebrows crinkled in confusion, but nevertheless, she followed Harry into privacy.

“Lucas seems….nice?” Harry had said, almost as if questioning the last word.

“Haz, please be nice,” she had pleaded.

Harry nodded his head, complying with her wishes. “But I’m still going to the lake house with you, right?”

Every year Y/N’s family had a reunion at her lake house, and Harry had accompanied her the past three years. It had somewhat became a tradition for them both, and no matter what arose on Harry’s schedule, he always made time for the lake house. To be honest, he had always looked forward spending time her with her family.

She squinted her eyes and gritted her teeth, almost as if she was bracing for what she was about to say. “Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry but I invited Lucas with me,” she informed him.

“What?” he had asked in disbelief, “But that’s our thing…”

“I just thought that you’d want to be with Camille since you’re both here for the next little while,” she had explained.

Realizing that it was odd for him to care more about the lake house with his best friend than his own girlfriend, Harry nodded his head in agreement. “Ah, yeah, you’re right. I should go see her actually.”

“You haven’t seen her yet?” Y/N asked.

“I came here first.”

Two weeks later, Y/N and Lucas arrived home from their trip to the lake house. Meanwhile, Harry had been busy in writing sessions and at the recording studio, striving to complete his new album and release it to the world. In fact, he had only seen Camille once in the past two weeks, but he was not sure if it was because he was too busy or if he simply did not care to see her. The day that they arrived home she had bolted to his house, anxious to see him after two long weeks without him.  

“How was the trip?” Harry had asked once finally in the company of his best friend.

Lounging in his living room, Harry was sitting normally on the couch while she had her head laid upon his lap, staring up at his angelic face.

She shrugged her shoulders, acting casual about the lake house, for she knew how much Harry loved it. “It was really nice, but I’m happy to be home.”

“How did Lucas enjoy it? He must have been drove crazy after two weeks with your family,” Harry had said through a deep chuckle.

“Oh…well, my family left after a week,” she informed him.

Harry sat forward on the couch, causing her to remove herself from his lap and also sit properly beside him. He stared over at her, his eyes wide in surprise and eyebrows crinkled in disappointment.

“So you spent a week alone with Lucas at the lake house?”

“Harry….”

“Did you sleep with him?” he blurted, unable to hold back the question burning on his tongue.

“Excuse me?” she had asked, feeling her voice rise in anger.

“Did. You. Sleep. With. Him?” Harry had repeated, sounding out each and every word through his enraged voice.

“You can’t ask me that,” she had argued defensively.

“I just did,” he had said sharply through a harsh tone.

“Did you sleep with Camille?” she had asked, her voice beginning to crack as tears formed in her eyes.

Harry remained quiet and his furious demeanour slowly deescalated. He did not have to say anything, for she already knew the answer without having to hear it from him. They had been sleeping together for a while, even after they had broken up, but she had simply buried it beneath her. After all, those things aren’t supposed to matter when you’re best friends.

“What is doing on Harry?” she had asked calmly as she felt a tear slip down her cheek. “What is going on with us?”

And then Harry finally said it – the words he had been denying. “It hurts to see you with someone else.”.

And without hesitation, she finally said it as well – the words she had been denying for years. “How do you think I have felt for the past three years?”

Harry did not say anything and they sat in silence for a brief moment, as they had both just vocalized the feelings they had for one another. Harry glanced towards her through his glossy eyes, catching her stare and holding it for as usual, a millisecond too long.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for what she was about to say. “Harry, I have watched you with numerous different girls for the past three years, and I sat back and tried to fight the hope that someday you would choose me,” she explained through a quivering voice.

“Y/N….”

“No, Harry, it all became too exhausting for me, and after seeing that you had returned to Camille, I finally came to terms with my feelings for you and realized that I had to stop waiting around. I have finally found someone that makes me happy.”

Harry shakes his head in denial. “That’s such bullshit, Y/N,” he argues. He was not angry nor was his voice loud, but he spoke calmly and gently. “This is not on me. Neither of us wanted to throw away our friendship for something that had the power to completely destroy us and so we both pretended those feelings weren’t there.”

“I agree,” she confirmed. “But I still sat around for three years and waited.”

“I would have chosen you each and every time,” he informed her. “If you haven’t noticed already, you have always been my number one.”

A tear spilled from Harry’s eye, but he swiped it away before it could stream down his face. She leaned towards him and rested her forehead against Harry’s, both of them closing their eyes at the feeling of their skin against one another. Harry lifted his hand and cupped her jawline before moving his forward and crashing his lips against hers. It was a kiss unlike either of them had ever experienced, consumed with so much passion and desire. Suddenly, she pushed her hands against his chest, causing their lips to break apart and Harry’s body to distance from hers.

“No,” she shook her head in rejection. “We can’t do this!”

“Why the hell not?” Harry had asked, feeling his chest grow heavy at her words.

“Harry, I can’t be your best friend and be in love with you too,” she explained. “And I’ve finally found someone who makes me happy – someone who I didn’t sit around and wait on for three years.”

And with that, she removed herself from his couch and slowly made her way towards the front entrance of the home. Before disappearing from the living room, she turned around to face him one last time.

“I didn’t sleep with him. I was always hoping that you would be my first someday.”

They stared at each other through pain-filled eyes, but she broke eye contact just a millisecond too quickly.

And then she walked away from her old friend.

Y/N is agitated with Harry.

“You all right, kitty?” Harry speaks lowly in Y/N’s ear, his warmth breath fanning her skin — which would usually make her shiver and swoon, but now it’s annoying her and she wishes she wasn’t at this God forsaken elitist party. Harry had brought her along because he claims he gets very lonely at these types of events, but according to Y/N, he seems just fine conversing with various tall blondes, and it sickens her, really. They’re the type of women who are proclaimed as the epitome of beauty in society, and Y/N just doesn’t fit into that category. She can’t help but feel jealous when one of them comes up to Harry and begins speaking to him as if she’s not right there on his arm, and she wants to vanish into thin air — or go home and eat an entire bag of Doritos.

“Mhmm”, she hums her answer, not even wanting to waste her breath right now in her annoyed state.

“You sure? You seem a little huffy.” His big hand begins to rub little circles into her lower back, causing Y/N to stiffen up because she just doesn’t even want to be around Harry right now; she doesn’t want to see him smile as he talks to another woman, or laugh at one of her corny jokes. She doesn’t know why it makes her so frustrated.

Yes, you do. Ninety percent of his exes were tall blondes, and you don’t compare. You’re different.

Y/N wants to wack herself in the head to get rid of the nasty thought. She doesn’t even know why he decided to date her because she is on the far opposite side of the dainty, blonde spectrum.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

He raises an eyebrow at her pronounced answer, eyeing her carefully. “Are you su-“

“Yes, I’m sure! Why don’t you go talk to that girl over there, like you were before?” She crosses her arms and huffs out a big puff of air, feeling her eyes water because she doesn’t like confrontation or arguing, but she knows one or the other is on the rise.

“Huh?” He grabs her by the bicep and leads them someplace more secluded. “You’re upset I was speaking to someone?”

When Y/N hears it out loud, she knows it sounds ridiculous. But one’s feelings are never ridiculous and should always be taken into consideration.

“I’m upset because you were blatantly ignoring me.” She looks down at the marble floor and feels a tear slip out of her left eye, running down the bridge of her nose. “You said you brought me here to keep you company, but you were off talking to other girls. Pretty girls.”

“Baby”, he exhales, “I have to speak to the people throwing this party. I have to show my appreciation for my invite, no?”

“Well, yeah, but the girls you were talking to acted like I didn’t exist, and were flirting with you and you didn’t even notice.”

“Because you’re the only girl I notice.” He places his thumb on her chin to angle her head upward, placing a kiss to her cheek. “I’m sorry I was ignoring you — that wasn’t my intention. How could I ignore you, hmm? How could I ignore these cheeks?” He pinches her cheekbone, making her flush and giggle. “How could I ignore your pretty eyes?” His index travels to her eyelid, skimming across as she closes it. “How could I ignore anything about you? My gorgeous girl.” He embraces her warmly, opening up his suit jacket and wrapping it around her as they hug so she feels even cuddlier. “Prettiest girl here. Prettiest girl anywhere.” He sprinkles kisses all along her forehead as he compliments her. “Do you feel better, now?”

“Mhmm”, she hums her answer, although the reasoning behind it this time being that she didn’t want to stop inhaling his mouth watering scent. She doesn’t know how he always manages to smell so good.

“You wanna leave? We’ve been here a good amount of time, already.”

“Really? You don’t need to stay any longer?”

“I’m sure they won’t mind if I leave. Rather be home with you, anyway.” He rubs his nose against hers and gingerly pecks her lips. “Ready? Wanna take a bath when we get to the house.”

Y/N’s never been happier to be going home.

ANGST WEEK!!

OCTOBER 22 to OCTOBER 29


monday - by morning light | harry’s in constant fear of you leaving. | “still there?”

tuesday - not yours | best friend!harry | “didn’t know that you’d be proud of me cause m’not like your girlfriend.”

wednesday - not yours, part two

thursday - find me love | boxer!harry and gang!harry | harry makes y/n, his closest friend who lives with him, his matchmaker to find him love.

friday - rest your heart (find me love part two)

saturday - go home to me | harry misses something important, and is confused why y/n isn’t mad at him | “i-i don’t deserve to be hugged.”

sunday - blame the first | harry blames you for something you haven’t done, and in the long run, may have said something he shouldn’t have | “i trusted you.”

monday - blame the first, part two


*possible bonus: as long as part two and can i stay? part two if i get convinced enough

anonymous asked:

#3!!

IM SORRY I HAVEN’T POSTED ANYTHING IN FOREVER BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. AND THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING LOVIE.

Prompt: “Hey, I kind of just moved in? The walls are pretty thin, and I hear muffled screams coming from your place, are you good?”

Originally posted by stylesinthewild

Harry really enjoyed his privacy, which was completely ironic because of the path he chose for himself. That’s why he bought himself a flat, one in a tall tower block that was significantly lower than his price rage. There was logic behind it, of course. Everyone would be expecting him to buy a glamourous home, no paparazzi would ever assume he lived here. He knew what he was doing after eight years of being in the lime light.

It was when he heard screaming coming through the walls of the next apartment, he knew he couldn’t keep it a secret. Hopefully you didn’t recognise him, hopefully. He sat up urgently, his brows furrowing as he focused on the nature of the screams and he couldn’t help but conclude that his next door neighbour was most definitely in danger.

“Hey, I kind of just moved in? The walls are pretty thin, and I hear muffled screams coming from your place, are you good?” He rambles when you opened the door to him, his fingers tousling with his long hair in his state of distress. He hates anyone being hurt, but surprisingly, you looked completely fine.

“Oh.” You blink, at a loss for words as one of the most famous men on the planet stands on your doorstep. “I-I’m fine, sorry I didn’t realise that we were making so much noise. Wait, you’re Harry Styles.” She gasps, Harry not being able to help the smirk that pulls at his lips as his narcissism gets the better of him.

“That’s me, nice to meet you.” He grins, offering his hand politely as you shake it.

“I’m Y/N” You’d be lying if you said your heart wasn’t racing and your hands weren’t shaking with the overwhelming feeling of admiration..

“Not that it’s any of my business…” He began, his brown Chelsea boots nervously kicking at the welcome mat of your flat. “What the bloody hell are you doing in there? Murdering each other?” A raspy laugh escapes his throat and you practically swoon. He’s even more dreamy in real life, you thought.

“We were having an intense game of twister.” You admit, your cheeks heating up as you widen your front door for him to take a look. “Jamie thinks he’s sprained his ankle but he’s always dramatic when he’s under the influence of alcohol.” You chuckle, displaying your drunken friends to Harry as they look up and smile politely.

Harry couldn’t help the grin that etched its way onto his face. You were most definitely around his age, and you were playing twister with your friend on a Friday night. “I hope you have an amazing time.” You smile at him in a thankful manner, and he notes how unbelievably beautiful your smile is.

“I mean, if you’re not busy you can come in. I’ll get you a drink. It can be your moving in welcoming gift, you know instead of a pie or a casserole or something.” Your tipsy state was becoming known as your stand at the front door, reeling off useless conversation. Harry doesn’t mind one bit though, it’s kind of cute actually.

“Why not.” He nods, you stepping aside to let him into your flat. It was exactly the same layout as his, your walls were just cluttered with art of all sorts. He knew that he’d come to admire that about you; your appreciation for all things creative.

“Harry Styles!” Jamie slurs, stretched across the twister mat as he secures his hand on the blue circle.

“Hello.” Harry chuckles, you kicking the door closed with your foot. He sat on the armchair, shaking his head with a grin as Jamie hit the floor with a thump, groaning. Quickly grabbing Harry a drink of anything as long as it was alcohol, you made your way back into the main seating area, him politely thanking you.

“God, that’s strong.” Harry winces, taking a sip of the strong liquor in his glass.

“Go big or go home!” Jamie shouts, causing your friend Danielle to fall into a fit of giggles. You were all far too drunk to care that you were talking to the Harry Styles right now.

“I’ll play with you now.” Danielle smiles, placing down her drink before you and Harry fall onto the large couch.

“Do you do this a lot?” Harry asks, fidgeting with the transparent cylinder in his hands.

“Not really, it’s a rare occurrence. We were just all extremely stressed after work so decided to stop by Tesco on the way back.” Harry watched you as you spoke intently, noting how the side of your mouth would list slightly in a smirk when you found something you were saying amusing. He nods in understanding, taking any sip of his very strong drink.

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a teacher at a sixth form. So I teach over sixteens.” His eyebrows raise in shock as he begins to laugh.

“You teach young people and then come home and play twister as a stress relief?” He asks and you nod, cheeks heating up slightly.

Jamie and Danielle were giggling away, ending up in a jumble of limbs on the livingroom floor.

“I’d ask you what you do but I’m pretty sure I already know.” Your confidence spiked for some strange reason, you were sure it was consequence for the alcohol.

“Go on then.” Harry prompts, adjusting his body so he’s facing you comfortably.

“A very talented singer who has one of the best albums of 2017.” Harry’s narcissism struck yet again as his cheeks heated up and a large grin etched its way onto his face.

“You think it’s the best?” He asks, unsure of if he really heard you right.

“Yes. I have it in my room actually on vinyl. Sounds incredible, you might hear it one day through these very very thin walls.” You grin.

“Hope I do.” He smiles at you, running his hand through his fair. “It’ll give me an excuse to come and talk to you again.”

When Harry Met [Y/N]

Masterlist 

All I Need

Word Count: 2543

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

**A/N- The end of this part is so fluffy I’m going to die! Honestly that you for all the love on this series, I love you all! I’m working on a request at the minute but PLEASE send me more in! I’ll do as many as I physically can!! All the love xx**

****

“Do you really have to go home? Can’t you just stay here with me?” Harry looked at [Y/N] with doe eyes, his bottom lip protruding in a childlike pout.

“You know I have to go bub. I can’t leave Liv on her own for much longer that I already have.”  [Y/N] stood in front of Harry, her hands in his and her bags by her feet. “Are you free this week to meet and do something maybe? You could always come to the flat when Liv goes out on a night if you wanted? Or even when she’s back, I could introduce the two of you. Only if you’re comfortable of course!”

Harry looked at his girlfriend, the sparkle in her eye- that she swore only he could see- was evident and it caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up on end. He never realised how hard saying bye to [Y/N] would be after only knowing her for 16 weeks. When he was in LA it wasn’t so bad because he knew she was at his house all cosy, but when she was going back to her flat he felt a deep sadness. She wouldn’t be there when he cooked his evening meal, or when he went to bed, or when he woke up and went to get his morning coffee.

“I think I’m free on Wednesday. If I come to the flat for a couple of hours would you come back here with me and sleep over? I am fully aware that I sound needy right now, but I just don’t want to not see you.” [Y/N] shook her head lightly, a small chuckle escaping as she did.

“You really are needy. It’s a good job I don’t want to not see you either. Come to the flat whenever you’re free and we can chill for a bit before you bring me back here for us to spend time together here.” Harry let out a quiet sound of happiness before pressing his lips firmly against [Y/N]’s.

They stood in Harry’s foyer with their lips pressed against one another’s for a few minutes before Harry pulled away, resting his forehead on his girlfriend’s and looking into her eyes through his eyelashes.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“Harry, you’ve been in LA for a week and you’re still getting over your cold. You need to go up and get some sleep. I’ll text you when I’m home and then when you wake up in the morning you can call me yeah?” A smile appeared on Harry’s face as he nodded at the thought.

“That sounds good. I’ll speak to you later.”

“Speak later, bub.”

With that, [Y/N] was walking out of the front door, her bags on her shoulders, and walking toward the taxi that she’d called to take her to the flat. Before the car set off, she looked to the front door where Harry stood, his large socks getting dirty on the concrete floor, but he didn’t care. She lifted her hand to wave, but Harry blew her a kiss, a smile radiating from his face as she reciprocated the gesture.

***

“[Y/N]!” Liv tackled her best friend into a hug, the both of them tumbling backwards and onto the sofa near them.

“Livvy! I missed you.” They stood up from their position and hugged once more.

“I missed you too. We’re going to order Chinese and watch a tv show or something and you’re going to tell me all about your week and Harry! Especially about Harry.”

“Well, there’s a story there. But I’m going to need you to bring me a vodka tonic because it is juicy!” Liv’s eyes widened as she heard what her best friend was saying.

“Woah! I’m going to get the drinks now! I can order food while you tell me what happened.”

[Y/N] took her bag to her bedroom, falling forward onto the bed and smiling to herself as she did so. A few minutes later she was in her normal pair of joggers and the hoodie that Harry told her she could take with her. It smelt of his Tom Ford spray and as she pulled the sleeves over her hands and brought them to her nose to smell, she swore she could almost see Harry smiling to himself. When she walked into the living room, Liv had already set Netflix up and was sat with her phone in her hand, two glasses of alcohol sat on the coffee table in front of her.

“I’ve ordered you your normal Chinese. I hope that’s okay?”

“That’s fine.” She joined her best friend on the sofa, taking her drink from the table before she did. When she took a sip, the burning sensation of the alcohol hit her throat and she winced slightly. “How much vodka did you put in this? Is it more vodka than tonic?”

“That one’s mine. I’ve not got tonic.”

“You’re creepy you.” When [Y/N] switch the drink, she thought back to her first date with Harry when she’d ordered herself a vodka tonic and how Harry had loved the way she sipped at it lightly throughout the meal.

“Maybe. Now, please tell me this story.”

“Okay so do you know how I’d been telling Harry about Charles and the fact he never gave me a first?” Liv simply nodded, her eyes shutting at the feeling of the vodka hitting her throat. “Well I was telling him on Sunday about the fact that Charles emailed me with a first and apologised and he said that he was proud and that he felt like he had a part in it because he said I deserved a first- he was totally joking though- and when I called him a narcissist he went ‘you love me.’” [Y/N] paused to look at Liv, who sat with wide eyes, almost knowing what her best friend was going to say already.

“You didn’t.”

“I said ‘I know.’ He didn’t reply though because his mum and sister turned up, but I basically told him I loved him, after a week of being his girlfriend. HOW STUPID COULD I BE?” She took a large gulp of her drink, staring at her best friend who looked at her the exact same way.

“Did you at least talk about it after they left? Before you went to bed?” [Y/N] shook her head.

“No, we just went to sleep and acted as if nothing had happened. Liv, I feel so stupid.”

“You need to talk to him about it, sweets. Call him tomorrow or something and ask him about it.”

“Liv you don’t understand. I TOLD HIM I LOVED HIM!” She poured herself a small glass of straight vodka and downed it, her throat burning and her best friend looking at her with wide eyes.

“[Y/N]! Stop it. Technically he invoked your response.”

“I need to tell you about him. And I mean everything.”

For the next five minutes, [Y/N] explained that the boy she was dating didn’t actually work in the business industry, but he did travel a lot, and his job is very demanding.  

“Wait, so he doesn’t work in business, but he does travel? What does he do then?”

“He sings.”

“What songs does he sing?”

“Loads.”

“Like what?”

Rather than answering with her words, [Y/N] opened the music app on her phone and played ‘Ever Since New York. Liv’s eyes grew in size as she came to realise what her best friend was insinuating.

“No. You’re lying to me now.”

“I’m not lying to you Liv.” Opening her text chain with Harry, she clicked on the photo they’d taken the previous week in their matching outfits in his living room when they watched Gilmore Girls.

“Holy shit. You’re dating Harry Styles.”

“Yep.”

***

“Good morning.” Harry’s voice sounded through the speakers on [Y/N]’s phone, her eyes shutting momentarily as she got used to the light of the room.

“Morning. Did you sleep well?” [Y/N] stood up from her bed, with her phone pressed to her ear, and walked through to the kitchen to get coffee.

“I did. I’ve woken up feeling brilliant this morning.”

“That’s so good bub! I told you a good sleep would help you out. I’m going to kill Liv.” Feet padded down the hallway of [Y/N]’s flat, and as she saw her friend walk around the corner, her eyes narrowed.

“What’s she done?”

“She’s used all of the coffee, and not bought any more. The only thing I need right now is a cup of coffee and she’s used it all.” Liv’s eyes grew wider as her friends shrunk in size. Her hands flew up in surrender and [Y/N] could hear Harry chuckle ever so lightly through the phone as he heard what was happening.

“[Y/N], I AM SO SORRY! I was meant to go yesterday but then I got caught up sorting my room and I forgot! I’ll go and buy more now. Let me get dressed quickly.” Liv scurried off to her bedroom and [Y/N] turned her attention back to her boyfriend who was still on the phone.

“And you find it funny that I’ve got no coffee? I refilled your coffee pot on Friday, so you don’t have this problem. I actually want to cry.”

“Babe, I’m sure she really didn’t mean to. I’d say that I’d come and bring you some but then she’d have to meet me today.”

“She knows about you. I had to tell her last night. If you’re free to come through for an hour I’d appreciate it. I need to talk to you about something.” [Y/N] couldn’t comprehend what she was saying, and as she heard Liv come out of her bedroom she put her hand out to stop her. “Wait, Harry’s going to bring some for us. At least that’s if he wants to come and see us.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour love.”

“Speak to you soon.” With that [Y/N] was throwing her phone onto the kitchen side and looking around the flat. “LIV HE’S COMING HERE! IT’S THE FIRST TIME AND EVERYTHING IS A MESS AND I CAN’T HAVE HIM COME HERE IF IT’S MESSY!!” Liv’s hands flew to her friends shoulders to calm her down.

“It’s okay, he’ll be what? Half an hour until he’s here?” [Y/N] simply nodded as she took a deep breath. “Right, well I’ll take all the rubbish down to the bins outside, you just have a quick sort around in here and we’ll light a candle or something to mask the smell of the Chinese from last night. In fact, I’ll light that before I take the rubbish out.”

***

When the door buzzer went off, [Y/N] flew up from her seat on the sofa, taking one last look at Liv and walked to let Harry in.

“Hey, it’s only me.”

“Come on up.”

Three minutes later Harry knocked on their front door, and when [Y/N] opened it, she saw a large cannister of coffee in his hands.

“Oh, you’re an actual beauty! Come in!” She ushered him in and waited until he’d taken his boots off to lead him through to the living room.  

“Harry, this is my flat mate, and best friend, Liv. Liv, this is Harry, my boyfriend.” [Y/N] could see Harry smile as she introduced him as her boyfriend, before he walked over to Liv and shook her hand like a gentleman.

“Where are you wanting this coffee?” Liv stood from her place and offered to make them all a drink with it. Before asking Harry how he had his coffee and heading to the kitchen to make them.

Harry turned to [Y/N], a playful smile on his face as he grabbed her hands.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself.”

They took another step toward each other and Harry’s hands wrapped around his girlfriend, bringing her into his body and leaning to rest his forehead on hers.

“You’re wearing my hoodie.”

“Well you insisted on me bringing it back, so I had no choice really did I?” [Y/N] lifted her head from Harry’s, pouting her lips slightly until his were touching them, pressing them together as he did so. A sigh of contentment emitted [Y/N] as she stood with her lips pressed to her boyfriend’s.

“This is strange. Someone other than my mum and sister know we’re together.”

“It is a bit weird. But we’ll get used to it. You’re the best.”

***

After a catch up in the living room, [Y/N] took Harry to her bedroom to have a private chat.

“So here is the room where I tend to spend most of my days cramming work in for uni.” Harry stood in the doorway to take in the room. The double bed sitting in the middle of the back wall, with grey bedding adorning it; the window to the left that overlooked the city; her wardrobe and drawers to the right and a tv on the wall opposite the bed.

“It’s cute. Can I ask what we need to talk about? You’re not going to break up with me, are you?” [Y/N] rushed to Harry and took his hands in hers.

“Of course I’m not! I just need to talk to you about Sunday.” It was like she could see the realisation hit Harry as he remembered the day. He remembered the day so vividly he still thought he was living it.

“Right. What about it?”

[Y/N] lead him to the bed, sitting with her back on the headboard as she motioned for him to do the same.

“Technically, I told you that I love you.” Harry nodded lightly. “And I don’t know how you felt about it because your mum and Gemma turned up. We never spoke about it again that day and I just want to know how you feel about it.”

“Isn’t it too early to say it? Like I want to say it so bad, but I’ve been in relationships before where I’ve said it too early and it’s all gone wrong?” [Y/N] looked at him with widened eyes.

“Wait, you want to say it?” He simply nodded.

“I’m just worried that it’ll all get too much for you. I know you technically said it on Sunday, but you also didn’t say it.” He looked down to his lap, his fingers playing with his rings as he tried to avoid his girlfriend’s gaze.

She brought her fingers up to his chin, lifting it so she could see him.

“If you think that I’m going to flake on us because of someone’s opinion then you are very much mistaken, Harry.” When she removed her fingers, his gaze stuck on her. The corners of his mouth upturned lightly before he pressed his lips to hers. “But, I know it’s only been a week, so we don’t have to say it. Just know that I do, and I will for as long as you’ll have me.”

“The feeling is mutual, my love.” Their lips pressed together once more, and Harry gripped her thighs, bringing her to sit back on his lap as they kissed one other for what felt like hours.

This was all he needed. She was all he needed.

ugh just imagine reading Susan Sontag’s Essay on Camp to Harry to help him prepare for the Met Gala???? like you could read it to him while you’re sitting in a bubble bath he ran for you and he’s brushing his teeth in the mirror or something and he would hum during a part he really likes, or he would ask you to reread certain sentences. IMAGINE HIM COMING AND SITTING NEXT TO YOU AT THE EDGE OF THE TUB WHILE YOU READ AND HE JUST LOOKS AT YOU AND THE WAY YOUR LIPS MOVE aND HE JUST SOFTLY RUNS HIS HANDS OVER YOUR WET HAIR. oR when he’s cooking at the stove and your sitting at on island counter, every so often he looks back at you, loving the way your voice sounds when you read and how peaceful you look. and he would even read it to you when you two are in bed at night and you would have your head on his chest feeling the low rumble emitting from his chest as he reads the worDS UNTIL U FALL aSLEEP I NEED THIS

six months early for 2019 just to be sure

A Picture’s Worth…

*a/n - Not sure where in me this one shot came from, just know that I’m very much in pain about it. NSFW. Very very very. Rated m.*

An afternoon around your best friend’s pool and his newfound hobby lead you to a very awkward but very inspiring discovery.

OR

You stumble across some photos on Harry’s camera that were definitely, definitely not meant for you, and it plants a seed.

happy reading! x

Originally posted by stylesinthewild

“I feel ridiculous.”

“Enough o’that.” Harry grumbles from where he’s stood in the middle of his pool, face obscured behind his camera but not so much so that you can’t see the furrow of his brows and the pouting of his lips.

“Are you about done, H?” You wrinkle your nose in irritation from where you’re resting your weight on your hip, stood on his patio and holding the two margaritas you just made in the kitchen of his Hollywood Hills home, and Harry huffs out a frustrated sigh.

“M’tryin’ to get the lighting right. Sun’s givin’ me a hard time.”

He stopped you in your tracks nearly a full five minutes ago now, just as you were shouldering through the curtains billowing in the open doorway that leads from his kitchen to his big outdoor space. He’s not set that damn camera down a single time since you’d come over this morning, your best friend Harry, and it wasn’t annoying until he decided to start snapping photos of you, of all things.

Keep reading

Harry’s a pilot, and Y/N is a shy flight attendant on his flight

Originally posted by bionicmalik-blog

Warnings: A lot of Smut

Word Count: 8k

*Smut, angst, fluff…a lot of everything

Wrote something a little different xx

“Y/N, the baby in seat 32c threw up on the floor again.”

She groans. Her neat bun was now beginning to have stray pieces peeking out of it messily, fingers sore from preparing all of the bloody meals for the flight (which tasted disgusting, so she doesn’t understand why anyone bothers eating them), and grabs the powdery cleaning material, working to walk towards the mess of vomit near the end of the plane.

When she gets back from cleaning up the mess, she realizes no other flight attendant is at the station, and that three people have been pressing their call buttons. Before she has the time to wonder where the fuck everyone is, she leaves in a rush to tend to the passengers. She tends to the first class passenger first, he rudely asks her for a bottle of Perrier water. ‘Not water, Perrier’ he specifies cockily before looking away. First class passengers were always the worst, so unsurprisingly she marches away in concealed anger and gets him his stupid Perrier.

The hardest part of being a flight attendant was not falling asleep, and constantly having to move around everywhere. Although there were some plus sides, like the stealthy tips she would receive for helping some of the first class passengers.

After serving peanuts and giving wine to the other two passengers, she relocates someone in economy who’s TV screen stopped working, giving someone a spare set of cheap earbuds, and listens to her fellow attendants gossip about who the hottest person on the flight was. She then finally realizes it’s time for her break. Sighing contently, she pops her back and then turns to head towards the cockpit.

Y/N swears she’s the only attendant who has this break, given that this wasn’t a very demanding flight with many people and that everyone had somehow taken their break while she was alone, working at the demand of the few people on the flight. She approaches the uncomfortably cold bunker, closing the door, and begins to strip down her clothing, goosebumps forming on her skin from how cold it is. She’s prepared to take a shower in the first class shower chamber connected to the cockpit before lulling off to sleep like she usually does.

But just as she strips off her button down, leaving her in just her underwear and her bra, she hears the door click open. Startled, and standing awkwardly in the center of the room, she just stares wide eyed at the door frame.

It appears the other person is just as shocked as well, she opens her mouth to scream, only a small whimper escaping her throat as a large hand makes its way up to cover her mouth.

“You scream, we both get fired.” An accented voice states. Even in the conservative lighting of the room, she makes out two bright green eyes staring widely back at her. There’s a head of tousled hair on him, followed by a crest on a neat navy jacket, a crest only worn by pilots.

Harry is shocked when he opens the doors to see the flight attendant he’s quite sure he’s frequented a few flights before with. She’s rather shy, but when she’s working near the attendants she’s close to, the laughter never seems to cease. She’s served him his meals a few times, leaving encouraging notes handwritten onto sticky notes stuck onto his plates of food,

“Mr. Styles?” she manages to sputter out. Her mouth being pressed down on by his large hands. He nods, curls bobbing up and down before he figures she won’t yell. He then peels his hand off of her mouth.

He nods, clearly exhausted as his curls bop against his forehead. He was known for kind of being a tight ass, normally speaking with a rather strict tone and staying up the entire flight because he didn’t trust anyone else to do the job for him. Evidently, tonight that all seemed to go to dust, as he stood tiredly in the cockpit of the plane.

Y/N doesn’t give herself much time to ponder, covering her nearly exposed chest by crossing her forearms. The gesture, although covering the view of her lacy bra, pushes her breasts up further unintentionally. The action draws Harry’s attention to her breasts, and he blushes visibly, staring for a few moments before he tears his gaze away and clears his throat.

“I-I thought I was the only one who had this break.” Y/N nervously speaks. Harry nods in understanding, “I don’t really take much break time so they forget to add me into the schedule sometimes.”

Y/N nods in understanding, clearing the awkward silence by nearly sprinting away from him and into the shower lounge. And from the corner of her eye, she swears she hears him laughing, chuckling slightly at her actions.

-

It’s cold.

Like, really fucking cold.

They must be the unluckiest two workers on the entire plane. It appeared as if their flight was flying over the far south of the world just as they situated themselves into their bunkers. The chamber was freezing, all of the hot air and heating being used to warm up the passengers due to their prioritization by the airline.

Harry and Y/N are both shuddering in their individual bunks, both too shy to say anything as they basically communicate with the sound of their teeth chattering. Eventually, knowing there’s no way that Harry’s possibly sleeping at this temperature, Y/N decides to speak up,

“I’m literally freezing to death.”

She bluntly states. And Harry can’t help but laugh at the upfront nature of the statement. His laugh sputters out as he shivers, but it’s a laugh nonetheless.

“Tell me about it. M’closer to dying of the cold than falling asleep.” He replies from a few uncomfortable foam mattresses away. Y/N laughs loudly, her laughing heating up her cheeks and warming her up a bit as she thinks of a snarky response.

“I’m going to pass in the cockpit of a plane, with the most influential thing I last did being cleaning up some baby’s vomit.” She feigns distress, and the both of them giggle while laying there, unable to sleep.

They bask in comfortable silence after that, until Harry clears his throat to speak again.

“Y/N I don’t - don’t really know you that well, but i’d say we’re both pretty uncomfortable because it’s so cold so uh-” He cuts himself off, but Y/N can tell where he’s leading.

“Do you-wanna, uhm-”

And Y/N almost swoons, her heart thumping louder (maybe it’s because she’s nearing her death at how cold she is), and she figures it’s because how fucking cute he is. With his fluffy chocolate hair and his hesitant and nervous questioning.

“Share a bed?” She finishes his suggestion. Through the dim lighting of the moving plane, she can practically see him blushing.

“S’really cold, I don’t think either of us’ll be able to sleep like this.” He reasons, and he doesn’t have to speak twice before Y/N unbuckles her cot, hopping out of it with her pillow tucked beneath her arm before sinking into the soft padding of his. He lies his thin blanket over both of their frames, and she awkwardly lies on her side so that she face him.

He wraps his arm around her waist, her face poking lightly at his chest as he sighs contently, the both of them much warmer than they were moments ago. She can smell the scent of his expensive cologne lingering on the white t-shirt he’s wearing - he can probably afford it with his large pilot salary. Feeling content, she snakes an arm underneath his arm and above his torso, pulling him closer and falling asleep.

She didn’t notice his absence from beneath the sheets at first. The presence of his warmth still lingering beneath them as she stuffed her face closer into the pillow, half asleep and half awake.

But the warmth doesn’t last on the sheets for long. Soon she realizes how much cooler they’ve gotten. Her hands reach around herself to feel that she’s rolled up inside the thin material, not a trace of Harry underneath them. So tiredly, just in case he’s having trouble getting his sleep schedule on track or is silently freezing to death besides her, she cracks open a sliver of her eyes, only to be met with complete darkness.

The alarm clock on the wall of the plane displays a glowy 2, and she know it’s the middle of the night, around 4 hours until they land, and three before they have to wake up to get ready to quickly empty the plane.

Her eyes take a second to adjust to the darkness, she stares at the safety guidelines on the wall to adjust to the darkness. She then moves her eyes, rolling her gaze to the other side of the bed, and that’s when she sees him.

Truthfully she was expecting to see him absent from the bed as a whole. Maybe he had realized how awkward it was to be sharing a bed with some random flight attendant, and he hurried back to work after an hour of sleep. So her eyes widen a bit when she sees her superior, a visible tint in his boxers, mouth open while silently groaning into the quiet space of the room.

She want to fall back asleep, wants to ignore the way that his fingers curl up every once in a while from the lost contact he can’t give himself in his dreamy state, but she can’t bring herself to do so. The more she stares at him, the more awake she becomes.

And god, he looks like something straight out of a movie. His curls are resting messily against the white fabric of the pillow situating his head. His stomach is flexing every once in a while, the tattoos on his creamy skin that are visible through his shirt curving a bit every time he does so. He looks so pretty, like she could take a filthy picture of him in this state and publish it in a few decades on the walls of the louvre.

But as beautiful as he looks, he also looks helpless, his forehead in a permanently creased state as he can’t get the release he craves. There’s a damp spot forming in his grey boxers, the small gap in the front of them opening as he grows fuller.

She questions whether she should do it, full on debates the pros and cons of her probable actions in her head. He is basically her boss, she admits, but the chances are that she’d never see him again after this flight. The odds of being assigned directly to a flight with the same pilot from the one she served before were very slim.

So she reaches out immediately, fingers merely ghosting over the fabric of the tight boxers. Just as she traces over the very prominent bulge there, he lets out a throaty groan.

She almost moans at the sound, but quickly clamps her other hand over her mouth, being careful not to wake him. He’s so sensitive in his dream state, every little touch driving him nearly over the edge.

Slowly, and very carefully, she situates herself between his long legs that are split apart on the narrow space of the small bed. Her legs are folded uncomfortably beneath her, but she figures it won’t take long to get him off.

She pinches at the top of the boxers he’s wearing. He sighs at the feeling of the fabric gliding across his hard member, fingers turning over to grip the cheap fabric of the sheets beneath him. She’s increasingly careful not to wake him up, focusing on getting him off so that she can warmly go back to sleep with him tucked under the sheets again.

“Unh” He lets out of his parted lips, eyes still closed when his boxer band lets him free, his member bounces up after being released from the confines of the clothing, curving upwards towards the ceiling.

Her mouth begins to water in hunger, even though she specifically remembers going to bed full on airplane peanuts and cheap coffee. The tip is swollen red, shiny from the precum coating it as it slides down the sides of his shaft. He’s so hard it looks like it hurts, explaining the furrowing of his eyebrows even in his slumber.

Not being able to resist herself any longer, she reaches forward, one hand holding his boxers back a bit and the other hovering over him. She allows her thumb to graze over the tip of his cock, picking up some of the glossy liquid in the process. His breathing stutters and she brings her thumb up to her lips to taste him.

She whimpers at the salty taste, becoming greedier and greedier by the second. She lean her head over his hips, nose slightly nudging at his tip. He seems sensitive to any contact, his abs flexing a bit when she does so.

Then, she sticks her tongue out of her mouth, curtly letting the liquid on the tip of his member meet the soft surface of her tongue. He immediately lets out another groan, loud enough to encourage her but quiet enough to let her know he’s still incapable of grasping reality.

Breathing heavily from the arousal dripping between her legs, dampening her shorts after soaking through her underwear, she finally, finally, dips down and takes him between her parted lips, warming him up inside of her mouth.

He breathes in, she can tell as she stares at his stomach expanding through the curtain of her lashes. But in the middle of his breath, he chokes a bit, head jerking. Although she can’t quite see his face from the angle, she can tell he’s awake.

He dips his head from side to side, probably trying to acknowledge that he’s woken up and that whatever occurred in his dream, stayed in his dream. To let him know she’s still there, she lets the tip of her tongue drag across the crease where his head meets his shaft, pressing it against the sliver intensely. He throws back his head once again, moaning loudly as his hand goes to grip his member, finding her head there instead.

His eyes snap to where she’s situated, back arched as one of her hands holds him gently, the other one lightly gripping his thigh to keep her in place.

“Hey, love.” His voice is raspy from having just woken up, something that dampens her inner thighs even more as she whimpers with him in her mouth. He inhales sharply at the vibration, admiring her.

She pulls more of him into her mouth greedily, pushing him between her lips as her tongue licks at the thick vein running from the bottom of his shaft to the top. She looks up at him to see his head thrown back, his eyes closed as he concentrates on the feeling.

And she doesn’t like that.

So she tightens the hand gripping his thigh, as if she’s telling him “Look at me!” without speaking. He gets the hint, eyes snapping open as she holds eye contact with him, sinking down even further.

“Oh, fuck.” He grabs at her hair, gripping it in his palms and pulling it to start her bobbing motion. She obeys, beginning to sink him in and out of her mouth in a rhythm comfortable for the both of them.

“G’na…” He trails off, whimpering when she suck on his tip for a little bit, soothing her sore jaw. She finds it so strange to witness a man or his sture and status moaning beneath her after having a wet dream. “G’na cum, pet.” His words slur from the pleasure, head pressing itself further into the pillow. She started while he was half hard, so it doesn’t take him long to finish.

She feels him throb into her mouth, getting closer and closer to tipping over the edge as he grows hotter and hotter on her tongue.

When he cums, she lets herself pop off of him, opening her mouth just enough to show him that she enjoys swallowing what he gives her. Ropes of white cum decorate her tongue, he stares at her in awe and hunger as she strokes him with her hand, focusing on milking the rest of him out.

And god, he looks so fucked when he’s done, cheeks flushed in adoration as he softly runs his thumb across her cheek. He doesn’t see it coming when she grabs him again, right after popping off.

“What are yeh…” He trails off when she runs her thumb across the slit on his tip, adoring how hard he still is. He’s insatiable, she thinks, when he twitches in her hand as her cold graduation ring makes contact with his upper shaft.

“You look like you could go for another one.” She winks cheekily, lowering her head before taking him in again. But just as she readies herself to bob down onto him once more, he meets her halfway, pushing up into her lips and filling her mouth up. He looks down at her, making sure she’s comfortable as she pats his hip with her free hand.

And although he seems like he’s enjoying it completely, he’s breathless in his confession, completely overwhelmed as he chokes out an, “I don’t know if I can.” And the sound of him, so needy and so fucked out only motivates her further. She quickly pulls him in and out of her mouth, using her hand to cover the parts her mouth won’t.

“God, baby.” He whimpers, widening his thighs to give her more space to work with. She pulls off for a bit, catching her breath before preparing herself for what she’s about to do. But just as she pulls her head back, his hand pushes at her head, motioning her to reposition himself inside of her mouth, where she was before she popped off. She pushes her head back in slight irritation, ticked off at his actions.

“Do you want me to keep going?” She asks him, sitting upright on her folded knees. He stares at her, the both of them gasping for air as he replies with an, “Of course” Wanting her to continue her actions.

“Then keep your hands off, Baby” She tell him snarkily. His hands immediately detach themselves from her head, gripping instead at the sheets once again. He pulls on them when she wraps her hand tightly around him again, pulling up and down to drive him closer once again.

A small layer of sweat glazes his forehead, messy hair sticking to the surface of his skin. His lips are just as swollen as hers, a result of biting down on them in anticipation. And god, he just looks so pretty. She can’t help herself when she takes one of her hands off of his thighs, instead placing it in between hers as she feels her wet folds dripping against her fingertips. She inserts a finger inside of herself, moaning when she submerges it completely.

He stares at her as she touches herself, wanting to do the same but remembering her strict words. So he moans, stares at her expectantly, and waits for her to touch him again.

And he doesn’t wait long, she moves her fingers back and forth inside of herself as he groans silently, and she returns her mouth onto him to take him in and out. When she hits a tender spot inside of herself, she lets her mouth sink down completely, her nose nudging against the area where his v-line begins.

He groans as he aggressively hits the back of her throat, so loudly that she’s afraid he’ll wake the other passengers on the flight. She doesn’t mind it though, allowing herself to do the same.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t - can’t” He pants out, making her tighten her lips even more as she bops up and down more intensely.

“Fuck!” He yells out, his torso jerking up as he hits his second high. She holds him in her mouth, removing her finger from inside of herself to press his torso back down onto the sheets with her  now free hand. Swallowing while still sucking at his softening member, she summons some more explicit language from between his lips, hearing the melodic sound of his quieting voice.

Finally popping off of him, she waits until he softens a bit before pulling up his boxers. She then lays her head against his soft stomach, grabbing his hand and laying it on her head to signal that she wants his hands running through her hair.

“Thank you” He mutters, taking her hand as he presses a soft kiss on the back of it. He intertwines one hand with hers as she feels her head raising up and down along with his breaths, sighing contently at how incredibly happy she is. She frowns at the that she won’t see him much after this, but focuses on how he throws the sheets over their small cot, making it the most comfortable bed she’s been on with his presence.

-

Y/N doesn’t know whether she’s elated, or disappointed at the arrangements she received in her email for the flight she’s serving. She stared at the list of flight attendants, seeing some familiar ones (familiar enough for her to recognize, but not close to her in any way shape or form), and some that she’s never heard of before. It’s a trans pacific flight, from the Asian country they were originally situated at to somewhere in North America that she really doesn’t remember. The flight log says that it’ll take around 7 hours for the flight to go from one place to the other, and Y/N sighs because that most likely means she either won’t get a break, or will get a break so short it’s practically nonexistent.

But that isn’t what has her head splitting apart.

As she walks onto the plane, mechanics still working for takeoff are scattering around it. A few attendants are already there, and she grabs a physical copy of the itinerary. But as she boredly awaits the crossing bridge to extend, and passengers to fill the large space, she begins to read it once again out of boredom.

It’s the fact that when she turns the page over, looking to peek at who the two pilots were, just to be cautious, she’s met with an all too recognizable name.

Pilot: Harry Edward Styles

RTG Global Flight School

England, United Kingdom

Certified May 6th of 2016

She doesn’t know if she should be nervous or not, wonders how he’ll go about the…situation that occurred the last time they served the same flight - the last time being the day before yesterday.

Her worries soon dissolve though, as two men in uniforms are the first to approach the plane. While the other attendants talk about an attractive passenger preparing to board, setting their bets on what he does for a living, her eyes scatter to meet piercing green ones unsurprisingly boring into her own. He doesn’t seem the least bit shocked, or flustered that she’s here once again and he breaks eye contact quickly, walking into the piloting room at the front of the plane.

4 Hours into the flight, the attendants are in the midst of giving out lunch. Every meal is frustrating, due to the high demand of drinks surrounding the time around the serving of the meal. Refusing to eat it due to her distaste for airline food, she’s reminded that the pilots have not yet received their meal.

She really doesn’t want to serve it.

But she’s the only attendant not preoccupied with a trash bag, or a drink cart. So she doesn’t exactly have a choice when she finds herself knocking on the door of the piloting room, hearing footsteps approaching her as her heart thuds.

Fortunately and unfortunately for her, the older pilot who isn’t - him - opens the door, grey hair tucked beneath his hat.

“I’ve been informed that you haven’t received your lunch?” She asks questioningly, she lowers her voice a bit so that the other pilot doesn’t recognize her.

“I actually think i’ll manage off of our coffee and biscuits.” The older man looks over his shoulder, “Harry? Do you need anything for lunch?”

And then Harry shifts a gear, his broad arm flexing through his suit jacket as he pulls something. He turns around in his cushy spinny chair, eyes widening when he notices her presence in the room. They stay frozen for a bit, simply staring at each other before the middle aged man snaps them both out of it.

“Harry?”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asks, blinking a few times.

“Do you want lunch?” He asks, awaiting his response so that he can get back to working.

“No, I think i’m good. Arthur, when do you think I could have my break?”

And then she leaves, closing the door behind her as she steps back into the room with the refreshments. She takes a small packet of coffee biscuits, stuffing two into her mouth and crunching down on them as a small snack.

She hears the creak of a door sound in the distance, and figures she must’ve misheard and it must be from a seat. She also thinks it may be from the far bathroom, but just as she’s lost in her thoughts, she feels a set of warm arms wrap around her waist from behind.

Startled, she drops the last cookie in the the package, quickly turning around to be met with a whiff of the same expensive cologne she enjoyed inhaling two nights before. His hand quickly grabs hers, pulling her into the spacious restroom for the staff before closing the door behind them and locking it.

“Mr. Styles, I have work to-”

She begins, keeping her language professional and trying to excuse herself politely. She felt guilty standing in a restroom while every other attendant was working.

“If they say anything, just say I got sick and you were helping me in the restroom.” He mutters lowly into her ear, pulling her into his chest as he lightly nips at her neck. She sighs, breathy moans passing her lips.

“And call me Harry.” He finishes, just as Y/N brings her hand up to lightly pull at the roots of his hair. He moves his lips up, dragging a wet trail from her neck to her jaw, and then her jaw to her lips.

“Harry…” She whimpers, grazing her fingers across the hair on the nape of his neck as she pulls him in, and finally attaches her lips to his.

They work intensely after that in a rush to push together their lips fervorously as they attach, detach, and reattach their lips in a rhythmic motion. His hands grip the back of her thighs, and he squats down, bending his knees before straightening them and picking her up. Y/N squeals, and Harry admires her cute nature before placing her atop of the sink, her legs wrapping around his hips and pulling him in.

The bump in his blue suit pants rubs against her, and she rushes to unbuckle his belt, sloppily tearing it out of his pants before throwing it onto the floor of the bathroom. He doesn’t even bother unbuttoning her blouse, merely hiking up her skirt before sliding his hands up her thighs and gripping her underwear in his knuckles, pulling down the flimsy lace material.

While he rushes to do this, she rubs against the bulge in his underwear, heat radiating off of the baggy material. There’s a name brand logo printed onto the waistband and she figures it’s since he makes such an abundance of money that he’s able to afford nice things.

As he removes her underwear, fingers slicking her wetness against her folds, she groans and pulls down his boxers, tugging him closer to her.

“Shit, wait. Do you have a…?” He trails off. She shakes her head, immediately replying before he has time to get discouraged, “I’m on the pill.”

“I’ll pull out just in case” He declares. And she nods as he stands straighter. She whimpers when his tip nudges at her clit, grabbing his member herself and finally pushing the tip inside of her.

Harry’s a mess, groaning out of control. The events from the night before last were all that was on his mind, the memory of her tonguing at the tip of his cock too enjoyable to merely forget. And now he finally, finally gets to feel her. Pressing inside of her slowly, he closes his eyes, with his senses heightened he takes in every little sound she makes.

“Shit, Y/N.” Bowing his head, he takes her breast into one hand as he slips it underneath the unbuttoned part of her blouse, sucking at the soft skin in the crevice between the two round globes. She bites her lip to keep from being too loud, although she knows it won’t be a problem due to the soundproof walls of the bathroom.

“Baby, fuck” He pulls out of her, pushing in again a bit faster this time. They’re both so needy, wanting to feel each other as close as possible as they make use of what limited time they have before his break is over and someone comes looking for her.

She looks down, admiring the way he’s so thick and full, and how he fills her up so perfectly. Her eyes stay glued to his hips, feeling a series of emotions. On one hand, she wants to cry from how good he feels inside of her. But on the other, she wants to be angry because she probably won’t ever feel him like this again.

He lays the pad of his finger on the bottom of her chin, lifting her head up so that they’re holding eye contact. Their eyes are both swirly, feeling euphoric and he mutters words that almost make her melt into the floor right where they are.

“Beautiful, pet.” he rams into her faster, “S’fucking beautiful.”

His words begin to slur as he presses them further and further to their ends. And just as Y/N swears she’s about to let her eyes release tears from how amazing she feels, there’s a knock at the door.

“Y/N? We need you out here.” She hears Christophers light voice say, quietly so that he doesn’t doesn’t disturb any of the passengers but loudly enough into the crack of the soundproof door so that she can hear him.

Harry, doesn’t like that, though. The idea that while he’s trapped in minimal space with Arthur (Who is a very nice man, don’t misunderstand him), she’s surrounded by multiple male employees. Probably having conversations with them. So after Christopher walks away, he turns his head to suck at her neck, nearing his finish but trying to make the moment last.

Still pounding into her quickly, he scatters his breath and sucks at her neck, using it as a form of comfort to let her pesky coworkers know that she had in fact been fucking the pilot in the employee bathroom right before going back to serving everyone.

He doesn’t even know why it bothers him so much. Because it really shouldn’t, he shouldn’t be so affected by some girl who’s just doing her job. But maybe it’s how good her hair smells, like a tropical drink he believes he had at a bar once or how loud and needy she suddenly gets when he’s inside of her.

It isn’t much longer until Harry pulls out of her, tightly fisting at himself before releasing into the part of the sink she isn’t situated on.

After they finish, grunting into the hot air in the space around them, she moves to press her skirt down, wiping down her blouse to seem just the slightest bit more professional. Neither of them were particularly worried about getting caught, considering there was no viable evidence stacked against them and that they hadn’t put anyone in danger or anything.

Harry works to put himself back together, but not before he feels a small hand smack at his arm. Y/N stands next to him, a shy smirk playing on her lips as she motions to the purplish bruise forming on the side of her neck.

“Really, Harry? How am I supposed to go to work?” She complains. He smiles, grasping some of her soft hair between his fingers before draping it over her shoulders, covering her chest as well in the process. Smiling, he mutters a small, “Beautiful” before lightly kissing her forehead and moving to leave the restroom.

A few moments after Harry leaves, Y/N exits the restroom just as Christopher approaches the door. He slides into the restroom right after she leaves, and she prays he doesn’t notice anything odd about the appearance of the space.

Her hope is crushed, however, when he walks out a minute later, eyebrows furrowed as he holds a men’s Gucci belt in his hands.

“Is this yours?” He asks her, remembering how she was the last person to leave the restroom.

“Uh, yeah.” She tells him, tucking the belt into her tote bag in the corner of the room crowded with other assistants. She makes a mental note to herself to scold Harry the next time she sees him. That is, if she ever sees him again.

-

“What is this?” Y/N motions between her and Harry.

They had been staying at the same hotel, which was arranged due to the fact that the airline reserved rooms for each member of their staff. Y/N had been pondering her unusual actions of the past few days, stressing herself out over what exactly her and Harry were. They were just having sex, right?

So why does ‘just having sex’ make her feel this way?

When she saw him sitting alone, a glass of golden liquid in one of his ring clad fingers at the stool of a hotel bar, she approaches him without hesitation. He’s wearing the same suit he was before, except he’s discarded his jacket with all of his piloting badges and patches, leaving him in his dress pants and his white button up.

She wasted no time, walking up to him before questioning him very abruptly. He’s a bit startled at first, staring at her in surprise and blinking a few times to make sure she’s actually there.

“Y/N” He states, as a response to her question that she clearly wasn’t satisfied with.

“Are you going to answer my question?” She asks him. As far as she was concerned, sex didn’t mark her with bruises to prove she was taken. Sex didn’t call her beautiful in the midst of a moment meant to be shallow and purely physical.

“We…have sex.” He answers simply. He states what’s obvious, what was already clearly right there.

“Is that it?” She asks, not wanting to feel the flood of emotions that sends a pang to her chest. To her displeasure, though, she feels the rush of sadness hit her. Punching her right above her heart as she lets a small frown form on her lips.

“Y/N”, he turns to her on the high barstool. She stand between his legs in her blouse and skirt, hair still down from when he placed it gently on her chest and shoulders. “Even if I wanted to, we couldn’t.” He honestly tells her, emerald orbs burning into hers. She looks dejectedly at him, staring up at him in defeat. She doesn’t know what exactly she was expecting. She knew that with their schedules, anything even close to a relationship was practically doomed to fail, she feels stupid for asking as she grounds her gaze to the floor.

“Oh.” She stares at her feet, the paint from her pedicure chipping off from constantly walking.

“So is that all it was for you? Just sex?” She asks him. He stays quiet, and she doesn’t even let herself look at him in hopes of seeing agreeance on his face. She thinks she receives his answer though after he’s quiet for a good minute.

There’s a frown forming on her face, salty tears threatening to burn at her tired eyes. She doesn’t even know why she let herself get her hopes up. Maybe she’d figured that finding someone with an occupation similar to hers would allow them to travel together, she should’ve know that happy endings and work relationships only existed in movies and books.

“Hey, wait.” He grabs at her hand. Harry doesn’t know how to feel, either. He knows that he’s enamored by her spontaneity, and enlightened by her sense of humor. He remembers overhearing her conversations with her coworkers, laughing even though he wasn’t a part of the conversations.

But as much as he’s completely smitten for her, he understands their occupations don’t allow them to make time for personal issues. He was constantly flying all over the place, and no matter how much he liked her, he couldn’t put her through the stress of coming only to go.

She yanks her hand from his gentle grip, crossing both of her arms over her chest. Y/N knows she probably looks like a proper mess at the moment, mascara spreading under her eyes and flushed cheeks as she accepts her embarrassment.

“Just, make sure not to call your friends with benefits beautiful the next time you fuck them, okay?”

He tone is bitter, but her voice sound so soft and defeated. Harry sighs, he really wishes he hadn’t done what he just did. Throwing back the rest of what’s in his glass, he orders another one, trying to numb away the guilt of his own actions.

-

Harry misses the smell of coconut shampoo.

He remembers softly inhaling it before he drifted off into sleep, Y/N resting in his arms with her warm breath fanning across the fabric of his t-shirt. He doesn’t know what exactly it is that she uses, but he knows that every time he smells the tropical scent he’s taken back to the time he ran his fingers through her hair. Granted, it was right after she had sucked him off, and that was pretty memorable, but he thinks the best part of that night was watching her lightly smile in her slumber as Harry’s fingertips glided across her features.

He enters the hotel bathroom, stumbling in after too many drinks. He remembers the bellhop having to escort him upstairs, Harry leaning all of his weight onto the frail man as he struggled to shove him inside of his hotel room.

He enters the restroom to take a shower and wash himself off before going to bed. While he was drunk out of his mind, he wasn’t disgusting. He had a sense of basic hygiene, even when he was the polar opposite of sober.

When he enters the shower, after ridding himself of his clothes, he finds small complimentary tubes of body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. Wetting his hair, he squirts some of the shampoo ono his hands. The second he begins to fluff the liquid through his hair, however, the familiar smell of coconut fills his nostrils. He closes his eyes, trying to imagine that it’s not his drunk and lonely self in the shower alone, but that Y/N is behind him, the smell radiating off of her instead.

But she isn’t with him in the shower, and she certainly wouldn’t want to be either.

Not breaking out of his intoxicated trance, Harry washes the shampoo out of his hair. Not even bothering to condition or wash up properly, he slips on a fuzzy white robe and stumbles out into the hallway.

The floor must be reserved for members of the crew they had today, he assumes from prior experience. He’s lacking proper thought so he walks down the rest of the long hallway, shouting Y/N’s names and praying to a higher power that a door opens and she stumbles out.

A door opens behind him, and he turns around to be greeted with her beautiful face. Instead he’s met with skinny arms and lanky legs, one of the first aid people assigned to be on each plane. He blinks at the bright light, probably awoken from Harry’s constant screaming.

“Mr. Styles?” He mutters, eyes widening a bit at the rumored stuck up pilot of their plane. He’s surprised to see Harry in such a vulnerable state, looking like he’s close to both laughing and crying.

“Y/N!” He yells again, laughing as he stumbles into the wall.

“Y/n?” The medical boy questions, “She’s in the room next to mine, I think.”

And that’s all it takes for Harry to stumble-run to where the boy turns around to go back inside of his own room. Harry rapidly knocks at the door, knuckles bruising as he has no control over his own strength.

Y/N had sworn she could hear Harry’s desperate voice call out her name in the distance. But she concludes that she’s gone insane and her mind is tricking her into thinking impossible things. Then she hears a small bit of chitchat coming from outside, and the voice stops. Only after that is the unmistakable pounding of the door to her hotel room.

She opens the door.

A whoosh of coconut scented air slaps Harry in the face. He leans forward, pressing all of his body weight onto her as he practically collapses upright onto her body. She doesn’t want to forgive him, but she isn’t heartless and can clearly smell strong alcohol staining his tongue.

“I’m sorry” He whines into her shoulder. She pushed him forward a bit, struggling to reach out her arms enough to close the door to the hotel room. She eventually succeeds, kicking the door closed with the tip of her feet.

“You smell so fucking good.” His nose is practically pressed into her skin. Y/N grabs at the fluffy white robe he’s dressed in and pushes him off of her. She enjoys the contact but the water dripping from Harry’s hair as a result of his incomplete shower bothers her when it drops onto her face.

“Are you drunk?” she asks him. He grabs her hand, playing with her tiny fingers in amusement, “If I am, will you let me stay?” He bargains. She tucks her bottom lip between her two front teeth, nodding as she grabs his hand and basically drags him onto her large bed.

Five minutes later, his wet hair rests on her chest, right where her own robe opens up to show a bit of skin. She rubs circles onto his chest and he breathes in and out, sobering up just a little bit but still far from sober.

His arms are wrapped tightly around her waist, and she loves how incredibly loved she feels. Harry mutters nonsense into the air, clearly having a mind of his own when he’s drunk. He’s normally very straightforward, so it’s strange to watch him all wrapped up around her, clinging onto her like a child clinging to it’s favorite toy.

“Wait!” He suddenly jumps up off of her. Looking around frantically before grabbing the hotel’s complimentary pen from the bedside table.

“What are you doing?” She asks him, trying to read his letters as he writes a note on his own wrist.

“Shhhhh, you can’t look.” He turns away from her, writing away at his soft skin. He’s sure to avoid the tattoos, afraid the pen won’t be recognizable on the dark ink of his tatted skin.

“I’m giving sober Harry instructions.” He states. After he finishes writing, mumbling a small “Ta da!” as he admires his own work, he returns to how the both of them were before. His hair is dry enough to run her fingers through now, and as she combs her hands through the fluffy strands he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

Leaning over to click the lamp shut, she notices his forearm facing upwards towards the ceiling. The words she sees written sloppily from his wrist to his elbow, make her heart double up in size and warm up beyond belief.

“Get Y/N flowers in the morning. She smells like coconuts and she’s nice. -Drunk Harry”

And she thinks everything will work itself out.

one direction’s legacy is being on a hiatus for almost 1000 days now and still being named dropped at the vma’s and giving everyone heart attacks

Flowers

Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Word Count: 4k

Prompt: 

“She’s the sweetest thing Harry, and smart too. You know she’s in medical school? She could save your life, though she’s clumsy so I don’t know if I would trust her giving me surgery, I would want someone steady. But she’s smart and beautiful, you would just love her! At least let me introduce you,” Anne pleads.

Harry lays on the couch in his room, groaning, “I’m seeing someone,” he reminds her, “Trish, remember?”

“Well I’m not saying you have to date her! I’m just saying you should meet her,” Anne says.

“She doesn’t even want to meet me. You said so yourself, and when I’m home I want to hang out with you and Gemma, not spend it with some stranger.”

“She’s not a stranger, she’s Y/N from the flower shop, and she would like to meet you she’s just being shy, I’m sure of it! Why are you kids being so damn difficult? Can’t you just meet her? I’m not saying you have to marry her or anything, I’m just saying I would like her to be the mother of my grandkids.”

or

Anne plays matchmaker and tries to set up Harry and Y/N, a girl who works at her favorite flower shop.

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