✨Sarah’s currently reading: Something New, Something Borrowed by @likea-silhouette
🌻Maude’s current reads: Ex-Boyfriend’s Dad! By @gurugirl Also, finally finishing @fkinavocado -> Daddy Issues Then I'm going to tackle @watchmegetobsessed List of SMUT🥵 -> Here <-
🍯Ever curious who’s posting what— look for our tags!🍯
Drabbles: Under 1k WC
Blurbs: 1k-3k WC
One Shots: 3k+ WC
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Requests are open!
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One Shots:
Rules - 4.7k MeanDom!Harry x Reader
♡ 2nd person smut - sorta soft (but so very very) meandom!H, edging/denial/overstim, p in v, unprotected sex/creampie, the list goes on...
Maraud - 3k Werewolf!Harry x Reader
♡ 2nd person smut- primal play, breeding kink, knotting (not abo), mate/mating
Blurbs:
Desperate - 1.8k - Dom!Harry x Y/N
♡ 3rd person smut - edging & orgasm denial, somno, creampie, cockwarming, choking
Forgetful - 2.9k - Dom!Harry x Y/N
♡ 3rd person smut - daddy kink, spanking, punishment, light bondage
Long Distance - 1.3k - Dom!Harry x Y/N
♡ 3rd person smut - degradation, smut, edging, ruined orgasm, punishment, spanking, dacryphilia
Pt.2 - Sweet Thing - 2k (fluffshot)
3rd person fluffshot - bdsm undertones, angst (not with Harry)
Routine - 1.5k Dom!Harry x Reader
♡ 2nd person smut - inspection kink, p in v, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics
S-U-C-K - 1.3k Harry x Reader
♡ 2nd person - hand worship, slight dom/sub dynamcis
Baby Bat - 1.5K Harry x Reader
2nd person - halloween baby fluff
Tally Mark - 1.6K Dom!Harry x Reader
♡ 2nd person - daddy kink, creampie, overstim, cum play
Drabbles:
♡ Home - 227 words - smut-ish
♡ Harder - 711 words - Harry x Reader - scratching/biting/marking (pain kink), brief creampie mention
♡ Homework - 777 words - Harry x Reader - first time anal, size kink
General Masterlist
ANGEL / DEVIL AU
(Angel!Harry x Devil!Reader)
Summary: Devils aren’t supposed to go up to Heaven. Devils definitely aren’t supposed to befriend a grumpy angel named Harry. But you were never like most devils—and, honestly, Harry wasn’t supposed to enjoy your company as much as he does.
A/N: I KNOW I literally said I wasn’t going to start another series and would stick to one-shots, BUT I had this idea and couldn’t let it go. I swear after this I’ll behave and go back to one-shots. AND DON’T WORRY—I’ve been writing nonstop since Thursday, so I already have almost half of the story done. (At least 4 parts)
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: Angel/Devil AU; mentions of Hell, Heaven, demons, angels (all purely fictional—nothing heavy or biblically accurate); mentions of witchcraft, conjuring, etc. (IT’S NOT A SCARY STORY.)
-
Heaven was quiet the way it always was: a soft, humming stillness, pale light stretching across the marble corridors. Harry liked mornings like this. Predictable. Controlled. Empty.
He belonged to the Luminary Scholars, an elite circle of angels who existed to illuminate understanding across the celestial hierarchy. His knowledge didn’t just store information—it clarified it. When he entered a room, the atmosphere shifted; even senior angels straightened, knowing his mind functioned at a level few could match.
He was also hypersensitive to every shift in his surroundings, which was exactly why he knew something was wrong the moment the air shimmered behind him.
He didn’t turn. He didn’t have to.
“You couldn’t pick a worse place to break into,” he said, resisting the urge to sigh.
A familiar voice answered, bright and delighted.
“Aw, don’t be grumpy. I missed you.”
Ah, you.
You were a devil of order, not chaos. Your role in Hell was to make sure demons and other infernal beings had the power they needed to do their work. That meant you knew every ritual by heart—conjuring, ancient forces, forbidden prayers, even the precise mix of potions and old witchcraft. You weren’t the strongest, but you were one of the most knowledgeable, the one others came to when they needed something done right. And in Hell, that made you invaluable.
He finally rotated his head—slowly, because giving you immediate attention felt like rewarding bad behavior—and there you were. Leaning against one of the pillars as if you owned the place. Wings tucked tight, a grin sharp as a spark.
A devil. In Heaven. Again.
“Get out,” he muttered. “Before someone sees you.”
“That’s a very dramatic greeting, even for you,” you said, pushing off the pillar and strolling toward him like you had all the time in the world.
He stepped back. Heaven’s light slanted over your shoulders, bending strangely around your shadow-touched aura. Your wings were tucked neatly, not by choice, but in this atmosphere they were shy.
You weren’t supposed to be able to walk this far in; only someone stubborn or reckless could manage it. And you were both.
“You’re reckless,” he said quietly.
“And you’re adorable when you pretend you’re not happy to see me.”
He exhaled hard, jaw tightening. “What do you want?”
For once, your smile faltered—just barely. Then you held out a small glass vial, empty and clean.
“I need more,” you said. “Of the powder.”
“No.” His answer was instant.
“Harry—”
“It’s dangerous. For me to give. For you to use.”
You stepped closer, shadows flickering around your hands where the light didn’t quite touch.
“Please. Just a little. I’ll owe you.”
He hated the way that word pulled at something inside him—something he wasn’t supposed to feel for someone like you.
He looked away. “You shouldn’t come here.”
“But I do.” You tilted your head. “And you always talk to me anyway.”
Silence stretched between you, heavy, humming with something he didn’t want to name.
After several long seconds, he reached into the inner fold of his wing, plucked a single glowing feather, and brushed it lightly between his fingers. Light essence dusted into the vial like falling stars.
He handed it to you, avoiding your eyes.
“Take it,” he said quietly. “And go.”
Your grin returned, brighter than anything in the room. “Knew you’d miss me,” you teased, taking the vial. “Thanks, angel.” Your voice softened for a heartbeat—so quick he barely caught it. “You’re always invited down there, you know.”
“I’m not going to Hell.”
“Everyone says that at first.”
And then, with a ripple of shadow and warmth that didn’t belong in Heaven, you vanished.
His room fell silent again.
Harry stood alone, fingers still glowing faintly from the feather he’d taken… and tried very, very hard not to think about how he already missed you.
.
Getting out of heaven was easier than getting in. Passing through the doors and saying goodbye to the guards was almost fun for you; since you were already headed back down, there was no point in them trying to capture you. They were simply left there, stunned and furious.
Hell was warm — of course — warm and crowded. You walked like you had all the confidence in the world, but the truth was you needed to get to your room quickly. The vial in your pocket was leaking a faint shimmer of light into the air. Demons paused. A few stared at the glow. Light essence didn’t belong here — and some of them knew you were the only one bold enough to bring it.
Then someone stepped in front of you. Your devil wings opened in caution
“Why do you smell like Heaven?”
Liora was a devil whose skin was marked with black sigils that moved like ink beneath the surface. She was calm, sarcastic and pretended not to care, but she’d rewrite an entire demonic contract if you needed her.
She wasn’t just any devil — she was one of Hell’s Contract Weavers, the kind who handled the fine print of damnation itself. Every pact, every oath, every soul-bargain passed through hands like hers. She could read intentions the way others read handwriting; she sensed loopholes before they existed, outcomes before they unfolded. Some said she didn’t just predict the future — she edited it.
Nothing happened in the underworld without Liora knowing first. She always caught the scent of trouble before it took shape. Which was exactly why she could spot Heaven’s lingering trace on you the second you stepped inside.
“I don’t,” you said, continuing your walk.
“Oh yes you do!” Liora reached quickly into your pocket and pulled out the vial. “Oh my god!”
“Liora!” You snatched the vial back, shoved it deeper into your pocket, covered it even more, and kept walking toward your room.
“Where did you get that? … You went there again, didn’t you? You saw him again, right?” Liora said, following close behind.
“It’s getting warmer by the minute here. It’s lovely, isn’t it?” you said, ignoring every word she threw at you as you stepped into your room.
“Y/N! You can’t—” She stopped to close the door behind you both. “You can’t go up there…”
“I know,” you said, placing the vial on your work table.
“Then why did you go again? And why did you talk to him again?” Liora pressed.
“Li… it’s not a big deal. I needed something. Quick and easy. In and out. Sadly, nothing was damaged,” you said with a shrug.
Liora stared at you like you’d just admitted to bathing in holy water.
“Nothing was damaged?” she repeated. “You were in Heaven. You. The walking violation of every border treaty ever written.”
You pulled off your gloves and tossed them onto the table. “Relax. No alarms. No summons from the Thrones. No angry angels chasing me with spears. I was careful.”
“You’re never careful,” she muttered. Then she pointed sharply at the vial. “And that — that is the opposite of careful.”
The vial pulsed faintly, star-dust glitter gathering at the bottom. You could feel the heat of Hell pulling at it, trying to smother it, and the essence pushing back, refusing to dim.
It shouldn’t survive this deep underground.
But it did.
Because it was his.
You turned away before your expression could give you away. Liora, unfortunately, had the observational skills of someone who spent centuries reading half-truths off demon contracts.
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh. Oh no. You’re attached.”
“I’m not,” you said instantly but your wings shivered a bit.
“That was too quick.”
“I’m not,” you insisted, grabbing the vial and adjusting the seal so the glow dimmed.
Liora leaned against your bedframe, crossing her arms. “You keep going up there. You keep coming back with that look in your eyes like you just tasted forbidden fruit and aren’t sure if you want more or want to throw up.”
You rolled your eyes. “I don’t have a look.”
“You do. It’s very annoying.”
You pressed your palms against the table, grounding yourself in the familiar heat of the iron surface. “This isn’t emotional. It’s practical. I needed essence. He had it. Transaction finished.”
Liora snorted softly.
“You don’t risk Heaven for ‘practical.’ That realm kills demons for blinking too loud.”
You ignored her and began pulling ingredients from the shelf—obsidian shards, dried drakevine, a strip of fallen-angel parchment from centuries ago. “I have work to do.”
“Why don’t you work with the stuff down here, you have everything you need down here, what on hell are you down with light essence?” Liora said
“Just a special potion someone asked for” you said hiding the truth
“Ugh! and you keep lying, you know what, when you are done lying come back to me…and behave for devil’s sake!”
Liora then stormed out — muttering curses in three dead languages — the room fell quiet.
Not peaceful. Not with the vial glowing like a heartbeat on your table.
You exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down your face. Liora wasn’t wrong. You were lying. And you hated lying to her more than you hated the way your chest tightened every time you remembered the way Harry’s fingers glowed when he crushed light into the vial.
You set the vial in the center of your worktable.
The light essence was already fighting the glass, tiny sparks tapping against the inner walls like impatient fingers trying to break out. Harry’s feather had been too pure, too potent; it wasn’t meant to be contained in anything made down here.
“Stay inside,” you muttered to it, as if reasoning with celestial matter ever worked.
You retrieved a set of iron-bound tongs and lifted the vial carefully. The glow flared, bright enough to throw your shadow against the wall. Even Hell’s heat couldn’t smother it — if anything, it made the essence more stubborn, more reactive. Light hated being underground.
You uncorked the vial only a fraction, the tiniest shift, just enough for a single mote of essence-dust to slip out. It drifted upward like a floating star, resisting gravity, resisting the room, resisting you.
“Down,” you whispered.
It hovered anyway.
Typical. Heaven’s ingredients always had an attitude.
You reached for your tools: a silver-threaded brush, a bowl carved from cooled volcanic glass, a pinch of powdered obsidian that clung to your fingertips like soot. Each movement had to be precise — a breath too sharp or a gesture too fast, and the essence could rupture the mixture entirely.
And blow a hole through your wall.
You coaxed the glowing dust into the bowl, layer by layer, using the brush to guide it. Every speck crackled with soft wheezing light, protesting as you folded it into the shadowy ingredients. The moment light met darkness, the mixture hissed like steam on metal, swirling with a faint, unstable glow.
“Behave,” you warned under your breath.
It didn’t.
The essence pulsed, the bowl shaking faintly, the light trying to detangle itself from the shadows you’d bound it with. You steady your hands and began the next steps: crushed drakevine, a single droplet of nightroot oil, and a spiral traced counterclockwise — not clockwise — to keep the volatile elements from splitting apart.
Your heart thudded once, hard.
This potion wasn’t for a client.
It wasn’t for a demon.
It wasn’t for power.
This one… was for you.
You kept your expression blank, your breathing steady, your hands sure. You never let yourself think too hard while making something delicate. Thinking led to feeling, and feeling led to mistakes.
Slowly, the mixture settled — light glowing beneath shadow, shadow stabilizing the light. An impossible balance, one that should not exist, yet somehow did.
You stared down at it.
Warm. Bright. Dangerous.
A little like him.
You exhaled shakily and reached for the next ingredient. You had a long way to go before it would be finished. And if Liora knew the truth…
Well.
You’d deal with that later.
.
Harry tried to focus on the archives.
Really, he did.
He stood in the vast celestial library—rows of scrolls, tablets, crystalline records hovering in quiet, perfect order—but his mind refused to cooperate. Every time he reached for a document, he saw you. Every time he tried to think of Luminary Scholar protocol, he heard your voice, smug and trouble-warm, echoing at the back of his thoughts.
This was ridiculous.
He ran a hand through his hair, wings tightening in irritation. Angels were not supposed to feel this kind of pull. Not toward devils. Not toward you. Heaven had trained him his entire life to distrust the lower realms, to fear them, to hate them in the quiet, righteous way angels did.
So why did the image of you standing in his chamber—shadow-edged and smiling—refuse to leave him?
And worse… something was wrong.
He could feel it: a faint tug in the center of his wings where he’d plucked the feather for you. A wrongness in the air, like a thread pulled too tight. Light essence was never meant to be held in Hell; its nature resisted, strained, fought. She’s using it, he thought. Or trying to.
He exhaled sharply, forcing his shoulders to relax. Not your concern, he told himself. You gave it to her. It’s hers now. But that didn’t stop the unease curling in his stomach.
He needed a distraction.
He moved through the shelves, scanning labels—Historical Manifestations, Choir Reassignments, Records of Sanctified Geography—until a file caught his eye. Tucked behind pristine scrolls, almost intentionally hidden.
CLASSIFIED: DESCENSIONS / INFILTRATIONS
He froze.
Most angels went their entire existence without even hearing about descensions. Falling wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. And infiltrations… Those were ancient, outlawed practices.
But the label pulsed faintly, reacting to his touch as if recognizing a mind authorized to parse complex knowledge. Against his better judgment, he pulled it open.
Stacks of accounts spilled out—some glowing, some darkened by age.
Case 14-A: Angel attempted voluntary descent. Motivation unknown. Returned after 3 minutes with memory damage. No punishment.
Case 29-C: Two angels collaborated to breach Hell’s borders. Intent: retrieval of forbidden artifact. Both exiled after breaking the protocol.
Case 51-F: Devil manipulated an angelic escort to cross realms. Devil escaped. Angel sentenced to penance.
Harry swallowed.
He read further, scanning descriptions of pathways, loopholes in old treaties, the thin spots in the barrier—old, unstable, fragile.
It made your earlier words echo louder in his mind:
You’re always invited down there, you know.
His hands tightened around the folder.
You couldn’t have meant that literally.
You couldn’t ask him to—
No.
Absolutely not.
He shut the file so fast the pages snapped together. His heartbeat jumped like it was trying to escape his ribs. Going down… that would be madness. Treason. The kind of crime that got angels exiled, wings stripped, name struck from the Choirs.
And yet…
He looked at his wings again, at the faint glow pulsing beneath feathers, tethered to the essence he’d given you. The connection wasn’t supposed to be this strong. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything.
But he did.
He felt you.
Felt the essence resisting something… or someone… or somewhere.
Harry closed his eyes, jaw clenched. He hated how much that scared him.
He hated even more how much he wanted to go after you.
In order to take down the biggest criminal mastermind of the modern day, two international spy agencies agree to a collaboration between their best spies. Y/N Y/L/N and Harry Styles will pose as Jessica and Samuel Thompson in order to infiltrate the elite criminal world of drug smuggling and black market deals, where the amount of blood you’ve spilled is quantifiable to the respect you receive. It’s not invading a criminal enterprise that’s difficult for you, though - it’s pretending to be married. Being a spy is tough when you’re deciphering your husband’s compliment instead of eavesdropping on the conversation behind you. When their feelings become too hard to ignore, will they end up sacrificing the mission to save their marriage, or was it just a job all along?
Featuring: Fake marriage trope, enemies/rivals to lovers (she hates him/he’s ambivalent to it), espionage, crime (obviously), an excessive amount of pet names, (list to expand, check individual chapters for more)
After a month, you finally meet your husband - 10.3k words
Chapter 2: Drunk Husband, Pissed Wife
At your husband's office party, more than just alcohol gets spilled - 11.6k words
Chapter 2.5: Dinner Party
At Peter's dinner party, jealous feelings get in the way of your job - 6.8k words
Chapter 3: Opening Pandora's Island
A surprise visit from one of your in-laws, a private island full of drunken criminals, and an awkward brunch with intimate questions about your relationship that you're not sure how to answer, oh my - Coming soon...
Chapter 3.10: Playing the Part
Needing to keep up appearances, you and Harry attend the neighborhood Halloween party - 2.3k words
A/N: This is my very first blurb after being a long-time reader. Let me know what you think and if you'd like a follow up.
Part 2
Word Count: 1.4K
CW: Angst and slight relationship neglect.
Summary: You and Harry have been broken up for some time. A song in a café causes you to reminisce, hoping for a reunion.
The café was quieter than usual for a Thursday afternoon. But then again, it was nearly closing time. The clink of the porcelain cups and the hiss of the steam wand filled the silence while the barista took control of the café's playlist. Outside, Berlin's grey cityscape mirrored the dreary November weather, but inside, the speakers hummed something softer and brighter.
Unbeknownst to the barista, she had played a track that was all too familiar to you. The bossa nova track would often float through your kitchen on lazy Sunday mornings and served as a backdrop to all kinds of breakfasts - from piles of pancakes to simple tea and toast. Hearing Astrud Gilberto's soft scatting, honey-toned voice singing “Água de Beber” for the first time in months, wrapped itself around you like a hug but also made your chest ache in longing.
The scatting faded into the next song, while you were transported back to that kitchen.
It had been weeks of him flitting in and out of your flat. Though there was no active tour to attribute his absence to, he often chose to spend his free moments with people who weren’t you. Years of constant travel and tours had torn Harry from family and friends, from special occasions and slow weekends; all of which he was now catching up on in the midst of writing his new album. You had granted him the time he needed to do all those things, yet there were missed dinners, messages that went unanswered for hours and less lazy Sunday mornings that made you feel like less of a priority to him.
You had tried to understand. You had tried to be patient. You had believed that the foundation your relationship was built on was solid, that your love could make up for the physical and emotional distance. But it couldn’t – not when he was everywhere else. Everywhere, but here. Where you needed him.
“You’ve been gone so much,” you said, voice shaking. “I can’t… I can’t keep pretending that this is okay. I’ve tried to be patient, to show you some grace, but you’re here one moment and gone the next… And I’m left… waiting.”
His green eyes are filled with confusion for a moment, “Gone? I’m here. What are you talking about? We’re making up for lost time, aren’t we?”
“I don’t need to spell it out for you, Harry,” you chuckle humourlessly, “but this is not making up for lost time. Even when you are here, you’re half asleep or you’re thinking about where you’re off to next or whatever comes next. You’re here physically, yes, but that’s not enough. And I understand that you’re trying to get back the time you lost while you were on tour, but… it feels as if you’ve lost sight of us. Of… of me.”
“I didn’t realise, love. I thought I was handling it well.” he breathes out defensively, a guilty frown on his face. “I didn’t mean to lose sight of everything. I may have overestimated myself and how fast things have been moving.”
“I know, Harry. I know.” You whisper, fingers anxiously twisting and eyes focused on the striped socks that cover your feet. “Though will things ever really slow down if you don’t let them? It seems there’s always another meeting, another flight, another person who needs to see you.
His voice cracked slightly. “That’s not fair.”
You shrug. “Maybe not, but that's how it feels.”
The silence that followed felt as heavy as lead and was filled with things that needed fixing, but neither of you knew how to fix it or where to start.
He wasn’t aware of how you had been feeling, even though you had been trying to tell him before that night. After that, he had tried to prioritise you again and show his devotion, but came up short. When it ended, there were no loud voices, there was no shouting, just quiet resignation and a heartbreakingly mutual decision that left you locked in a long embrace. Once he had left, the scent of cedar and vanilla remained in your doorway and clung to your clothes for what seemed like an eternity.
You had allowed Astrud Gilberto to take you back to that night, her sweet voice reactivating the bitter ache you had felt then. It was an ache you never thought you would feel again. And you let yourself feel it again – if only for a moment – as you absentmindedly stir the remaining foam into your flat white. You let yourself remember his warmth and how it would envelop you. You let yourself remember the crinkle around his eyes when he would look at you. You let yourself indulge in the sweetness of the memory of him. Of you.
You let the music in Witch Garden carry you. While the barista wrapped up another customer’s banana bread, the music wrapped itself around you and the memories you thought had been buried somewhere deep. Call it foolishness, but in that moment, a fragile hope had been reignited. All it took was that song, the one that played through the kitchen speakers while the sunlight spilled through the window. He would spin you around while humming along and later disappear through the door into another day that left little room for you. Somewhere between time zones and studio sessions, that ease slipped through your fingers.
Does he ever think of you when he hears the song? Does he also take a moment to sit in the heartbreak, holding onto the hurtful memory? Does he remember the time when things had been so effortless and almost enchanted? It seemed as if you two were made of the same magic that couldn’t be explained. You used to think it was a type of alchemy – you and Harry could turn exhaustion into laughter, madness into mayhem, chaos into something beautiful.
Does he ever wonder where you are?
Because you still do and some part of you can’t leave it alone now. The thought of him lingers the same way that bossa nova song lingered on Sunday mornings. He’s still on your mind. Even though you had tried to move on from that gut-wrenching night many moons ago, you had once reached out to him in a moment of weakness.
You had given him the time and place. If you’re ever in Berlin, you’ll know where to find me. Don’t be shy. It didn’t matter that he never answered, but there were moments your eyes couldn’t help but drift to the door each time the bell rang to signal a customer’s entrance. Even if nothing came of it and he never showed up, you would be satisfied with the understanding that if things were meant to circle back, they would. Though why was some part of you still waiting for him to walk through the door and look at you the way he used to?
Your fingers tightened around the porcelain handle as the memory and the caffeine both spread a warmth through your chest.
Am I foolish? Waiting for you to come be the man I need?
You missed him. And maybe you weren’t ready to stop hoping he needed you too. You didn’t need much, just a heartbeat that matched your own and someone who showed up. Maybe Harry was still out there, trying to find his way back.
As the playlist wound down and the baristas cleared tables, your heart hadn’t caught up yet. You could almost hear his voice in your head, lazy grin and all, when he called you wonderful. You always kind of liked it, even though you playfully denied it. Whatever the type of talk it was – silly or serious – you'd take it. Happily.
Outside, a soft drizzle has begun, gently tapping against the large café windows. You glanced at your watch, the last hour seemed to have slipped by unnoticed. You gather your things, pull on your coat and adjust your scarf, ready to face the ten minutes of cold air between the café and the underground stop.
With a grateful smile to the baristas, you start towards the door with a quiet sigh. Looking down, you start to button you coat while taking small, measured steps across the wooden café floor – your mind half on the street and half… somewhere else.
Summary: Harry has been quietly, hopelessly smitten with the new manager at his company for months, but he’s never found the courage to ask her out. When he overhears that she has a date, jealousy hits him harder than he wants to admit. A restless night turns into a questionable work-related phone call and an impulsive visit to her flat, all because he can’t stand the thought of her with someone else. What he finds instead is the truth he’s been too scared to ask for.
Pairing: Famous CEO Harry x Reader YN
TW: Light jealousy, anxious thoughts
WC: ~1.6K
A/n: Hey loves, I hope you enjoy this little fic. Jealous soft Harry has my whole heart. Let me know what you think💛
It had been months since YN joined his company, and Harry still couldn’t speak to her like a normal human being. Not that he was bad at conversation, he could charm an arena full of people with a laugh, but with her, every word felt like walking on glass barefoot. His voice went softer, his sentences shorter, and his mind… gone.
She wasn’t just pretty. She was magnetic. The kind of woman who didn’t seem to know how much attention she drew. Quiet but not timid, kind but not naive, the type who could be invisible in a room until she smiled, and suddenly everyone remembered how to breathe again.
Harry had noticed everything. The way she tucked her hair when she was deep in thought. The way she always left her mug half-full, as if she was too busy finishing everything else. The way her laughter caught people off guard, him most of all. He’d pretend to check emails just to look at her reflection in the glass wall of the conference room. Pathetic, he thought. Completely pathetic.
His friends Sarah and Mitchel had caught on long before he admitted it.
“You stare at her like you wrote a song about her,” Sarah teased one afternoon.
“I don’t,” he’d argued, though his grin betrayed him.
“Mate, you absolutely do,” Mitchel added. “You look like a man who’d volunteer for overtime if it meant breathing the same air.”
They were right, and he hated it.
Still, he never made a move. He was her boss in a way, though not directly. He owned the label; she managed product campaigns. There were lines, blurry ones, but lines nonetheless. Besides, Harry Styles asking his employee out? It sounded like a tabloid headline he didn’t want.
So he did nothing. For months.
Until the day he overheard her say something that cracked his composure in two.
He was passing the creative department when he heard YN’s voice, soft, amused. “Yeah, I’ve got a date tonight,” she said to another colleague. “He seems nice. We’ll see how it goes.”
Harry froze mid-step.
The rest of her words blurred into white noise. His heart plummeted, then burned on the way down. A date. Someone had the audacity to ask her out, and she said yes.
He forced himself to walk away, pretending he hadn’t heard. But his thoughts betrayed him instantly, who was he? Where were they going? Did she like him? Was she nervous? Excited? God, he hoped not.
The entire day felt off-balance after that. He missed lunch, snapped at a minor scheduling error, and replayed that one line in his head like a cursed melody: I’ve got a date tonight.
By the time evening came, he’d given up pretending he was fine.
Sarah and Mitchel came over to his place around eight. He’d said they were going to hang out, but really, he needed to be babysat.
“Pacing again?” Sarah asked as she flopped on his couch.
“She’s on a date,” he said, almost to himself.
“Ah, here we go,” Mitchel sighed, already opening a beer.
Harry walked back and forth across the living room like the floor was a treadmill fueled by frustration. He kept glancing at the clock, then at his phone, then back to the clock. “It’s been an hour,” he muttered.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “An hour since what? Since she left? Since she smiled at you in the hallway? You’re spiraling.”
“I’m not spiraling.”
“You’re absolutely spiraling.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I just, how am I supposed to sit here knowing she’s out there with someone else?”
Mitchel gave a low whistle. “Man’s losing it.”
Harry threw himself onto the couch, head in his hands. “What if she likes him?”
“Then you’ll survive,” Sarah said gently. “You’re Harry Styles, for God’s sake.”
“That’s not the point.” His voice cracked on it. “He’s not me.”
There was silence for a moment, then Sarah said, “Then maybe stop pretending you don’t care.”
He exhaled shakily. The thought of confessing made his pulse race, but the thought of losing her? That was worse. Still, he stayed frozen in indecision, until his mind offered a loophole.
“She’s supposed to finish that product prototype tonight,” he said suddenly.
Sarah frowned. “So?”
“So maybe I can call her. Just to… check on it.”
“Harry,” she warned.
“What? It’s work-related.” He stood up, already reaching for his phone. “Totally normal.”
Mitchel groaned. “This is going to be tragic.”
But Harry was already dialing.
He didn’t even know what he’d say if she answered. Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d let it ring while laughing at something her date said. The thought made his chest ache.
Then the line clicked.
“Hello?”
Her voice was sleepy, warm. Not giggly, not distracted. Sleepy.
“YN?” His own voice sounded too eager.
“Harry?” she murmured, her tone hazy. “It’s late. Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said quickly, trying to sound casual. “Just wanted to check on the prototype. The one for next week’s pitch.”
There was a pause, the sound of fabric rustling. “It’s almost ready,” she said softly. “Just needs some refinements. I was planning to finish tomorrow morning.”
He froze, noticing how her voice dipped, like she’d just woken up. Was she alone? His mind betrayed him again, picturing her tangled in someone else’s sheets. He swallowed hard. “Right,” he managed. “Listen, I can come by and take a look. Make sure everything’s aligned.”
“You want to come over now?” she asked, surprised.
“It won’t take long,” he said too fast. “Just half an hour.”
There was a quiet laugh on her end. “You sound restless.”
He smiled despite himself. “Maybe I am.”
She gave in with a small sigh. “Alright, fine. But if you wake my neighbors, I’ll make you explain why to the building manager.”
He hung up, grabbed his coat, and ignored Sarah’s groan.
“You’re insane,” she said.
“I know,” he replied. “Wish me luck.”
The night was cold, the streets wet from an earlier drizzle. London glowed under its usual melancholy, gold streetlights, passing taxis, the distant hum of life. Harry barely noticed. His heart was pounding, not from nerves, but from a possessive hope he didn’t dare name.
When YN opened the door, she looked impossibly soft. Her hair was loose, falling in waves around her face, and she wore an oversized jumper that swallowed her hands. No trace of makeup, just tired eyes and a small, startled smile.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.” He tried not to stare. Failed miserably.
She let him in, the faint scent of vanilla and paper lingering in the air. Her flat was small but cozy, plants by the window, sketches scattered on the table, and a laptop open beside a half-finished prototype of packaging material.
“Sorry for the mess,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s perfect,” he said without thinking.
Her cheeks pinked. “You want tea?”
“Sure,” he said, though what he wanted was to stop pretending he was here for work.
While she made tea, he wandered toward her desk, scanning her notes just to stay occupied. His pulse hadn’t slowed since she opened the door.
When she returned, handing him a mug, he caught her smile again, gentle, familiar, undoing him completely.
“So,” she said, sitting across from him, “what exactly do you need to see tonight?”
He blinked. “Right. The prototype.”
“Right,” she echoed, teasing.
They leaned over the table together, discussing color palettes and font alignment. Or rather, she did. Harry was too distracted by the way her voice dipped when she explained something, how her fingers brushed against his when she turned the page.
After a while, she looked up. “You’re quiet tonight.”
“Just thinking,” he said.
“About work?”
He smiled faintly. “Not exactly.”
Her gaze lingered, curious. For a second, silence stretched, filled only by the soft hum of the city outside.
Then he broke it. “How was your date?”
She froze. “My what?”
“Your date,” he repeated carefully, trying not to sound jealous. “I heard you talking about it earlier.”
She looked surprised, then amused. “You heard that?”
He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Office walls aren’t soundproof.”
Her lips curved. “Well, it didn’t happen.”
That caught him off guard. “Didn’t?”
“I cancelled,” she said simply. “Wasn’t feeling it. Sometimes you just know.”
The relief that hit him was instant and overwhelming. He nearly laughed from the sheer release of it. “You just… knew?”
She nodded, resting her chin on her hand. “Yeah. I don’t want to go out with someone just because it’s convenient.”
Something in his chest unclenched. “That’s fair.”
She tilted her head. “Why do you ask?”
He hesitated, eyes flicking to hers. “Just curious.”
But she didn’t look away. “You seem more than curious.”
Harry laughed softly, caught. “You might be right.” He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not very good at this, am I?”
“At what?”
“Pretending I’m not completely taken with you.”
Her eyes widened slightly, then softened. “You’re not pretending very well.”
That made him laugh again, quieter this time. “Didn’t think I was.”
For a long moment, neither spoke. The air between them changed, warmer, thicker, something that hummed with possibility.
Finally, he said, “I was jealous tonight. When I heard about your date.”
“I gathered,” she said, teasing gently.
He smiled. “You did?”
“You showed up at my flat to ‘check on a prototype.’ It was either jealousy or insanity.”
“Probably both,” he admitted.
She laughed, and it sounded like a melody he’d been waiting months to hear. “You could’ve just told me, you know.”
“I was scared you’d say no.”
“Why would I say no?”
He looked at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “Because you’re you.”
Her voice softened. “And you’re you.”
Something about the way she said it, steady, sincere, made him move before he could think. He reached across the table, brushing his fingers against hers. She didn’t pull away.
“YN,” he said quietly, “would you go out with me?”
Her smile was slow and sure. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Relief and joy tangled in his chest until he couldn’t tell them apart. “So that’s a yes?”
“That’s a yes.”
They didn’t talk much after that. Words felt unnecessary. She moved closer, settling beside him on the couch, their shoulders touching. The TV played something faint in the background neither paid attention to.
He wrapped an arm around her, tentative at first, then certain when she leaned into him. She fit there like she’d been meant to all along.
They didn’t kiss that night. They didn’t need to. Just the quiet rhythm of their breathing, the warmth of her against him, the soft buzz of everything unspoken between them, it was enough.
At one point, she whispered, “You really came all the way here just because of a prototype?”
He smiled against her hair. “Best idea I’ve ever had.”
She laughed, eyes closing, and he held her tighter. For Harry, that was the night everything changed. The night he realized that love didn’t always start with fireworks, it sometimes began with jealousy, tea, and a very convenient excuse.
Warnings: enemies to lovers (because WHY NOT), panicked Harry, car accident, hospital visit, etc.
Summary: Two environmentally friendly people carpool to work and almost kill each other every day. Harry brakes too much. She lets people go when it's not their turn. She gets crumbs all over her car. Harry listens to really boring podcasts. Harry thinks she's beautiful even if she's annoying. She thinks Harry is unbelievably sexy even if his opinion of her music is rude.
It’s for the environment. It’s for the environment. It’s for the environment.
Every day he waited for her to get to his car he had to chant it to himself that it was worth it. “We’re not going to fight today,” he mumbled to himself as she left the apartment building. It was exactly one building next to his and so it made sense.
She looked really pretty. She always did. It was brutal on his psyche because he wanted to like her. He was desperate to like her, but she was just so... annoying. But her hair was half up in a clip, pieces spilled from it almost artfully. That was the only way he could describe her: art. Harry wasn’t sure if she wore makeup, he suspected she did but if he found out she was naturally that stunning he wouldn’t have been surprised either.
Her dress pants looked perfect on her legs, not quite painted on but close. Her bright blue button down was tucked in and complimented her complexion so well. She wore a pair of heels to complete her look which he knew she didn’t like doing so he was bracing for her complaints—she was much more of a flats person; but she felt she had to wear them to be taken seriously. She looked professional, beautiful, but approachable.
Harry took a deep breath trying to quell the frustration, anxiety, and adoration he had for her before she got in the car. We’re not going to fight today.
“Hi,” she greeted quietly.
“Hi,” he answered as she got settled. She put her coffee mug in the cup holder, her lunch bag and work bag went to the floor by her feet. Harry much preferred her weekend look, and he was sure she did too; sweatpants, a hoodie or T-shirt, sneakers or slippers was much more her style and she wore that just as beautifully as she did her professional outfit.
Jesus Christ it was going to be a long week. How was it only Monday?
“Do y’have a presentation today?” He asked as she finally settled herself into the passenger seat.
“Yeah, why?” Harry noted she was immediately distrustful and did his best to ignore it because he was trying, with everything in him, to be polite and kind. More than he usual.
“Y’look nice,” he shrugged.
“As in I don’t usually look nice?” She asked defensively. “Are you playing a trick on me? Is this a joke?”
That was short-lived. He sighed and looked at the ceiling for help like the answer to this complicated woman was going to be there, finally. “No, s’not a joke. Y’always look nice, love. But y’look extra nice today.”
“Oh,” she pouted, the pucker between her eyebrows making itself known. He was used to seeing it and he found it cute since she looked so serious and her face was just so sweet it almost didn't make sense for her to look so grumpy. But Harry knew better. “Thank you,” she murmured, surprise laced in her voice. “Sorry... I’m nervous,” she explained.
He frowned. “M’sure you’ll be fine.”
“Mm.”
They didn’t speak for several moments. Silence was a lot better for them. Less of a chance to argue with one another. “How was your weekend?” She asked. Small talk was typically safe. As long as there wasn’t a lot of details.
“Good, finished m’book,” but he didn’t offer what he read because he knew they didn’t share the same taste in book genres and she would probably wrinkle her cute little nose in distaste. “How was yours?”
“Fine, visited my friend,” but she didn’t say which one because he would just tell her how she was being used for her money and networking to get into nice restaurants. The silence continued for another few minutes. She scrolled on her phone then pulled her laptop out of her bag. There was about forty minutes until they reached their office so maybe she would go over her presentation.
Harry would have offered to listen to it, but from experience, she would argue every point of constructive criticism he had to offer—only because he had done the very same. In actuality, her presentation was probably perfect. There was no need for her to be nervous. But as she had explained many times over, she was a woman in a corporate office with a bunch of men who didn’t trust her. She had to work twice as hard to get things done her way.
The silence was interrupted by her stomach growling loud enough for Harry to hear it. He sighed and rolled his eyes like it was a major inconvenience for him. “What, Harry? What?” She grumbled.
“Why don’t y’jus’ eat before y’leave?”
“I told you, I’m nervous about my presentation today.”
“What’s your excuse for the other days?”
“Happy Monday,” she grumbled and put her head on the window. But of course, at that moment Harry stomped on the brake as he was wont to do. Meaning her head all but smacked off the glass. “Ow! For God’s sake, Harry! You don’t have to slam on the brakes!”
“I’m not,” she pulled the visor down to look in the mirror to inspect her forehead as if it was going to create a bruise instantly. “My God, you’re dramatic,” he muttered under his breath.
“You drive like a grandma,” she retorted.
“What, safely?!” He hissed through his teeth. He wanted to actually slam on the brakes. Her stomach growled again only further fueling his annoyance with her. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he pulled off the closest exit and headed for a nearby coffee shop so she could get a pastry or something for her.
“We don’t need to stop.”
“You need t’eat something. Sounds like y’trapped an animal in there.”
Her cheeks felt warm with his comparison. “That’s so fucking rude Harry.”
“I don’t care, y’need t’eat!”
“I’m not hungry. I’m nervous about my presentation.”
“S’gonna be a shitty presentation if y’stomach keeps growling over the sound of your voice.”
She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes and turned to look at the window. “I’m too nervous to eat; thank you for caring in your overbearing, aggressive way, but I won’t eat anything. I’ll eat a granola bar from my desk when we get to the office,” she explained.
Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head but returned to the highway after their tiny detour. “You’re sure?”
“Yup. Can’t eat in the car anyway and I don’t want to be any later than we already are.”
“Late,” his eyes were going to get stuck trying to look at the back of his brain. “You’re ridiculous.”
The spat simmered tensely in the silent air between them. They went a whole four minutes without arguing. That had to be a record, even for them.
*
The drive home was much less tense almost always. Usually, they were both too drained to speak to one another, so it made it a lot easier to tolerate the other person’s existence.
So, it was Harry’s fault that they argued again on the way home.
“How was your presentation?” He asked politely.
“Fine,” she shrugged.
“Jus’ fine?” He frowned. “Y’were all worked up ‘bout it this morning.”
“Yeah, because no one takes me seriously,” she snorted, but her laugh didn’t have a trace of real humor in it.
“Right, so it was just fine?”
“What are you looking for here Harry?” Her irritation was evident in her voice.
“I don’t know, a better adjective? Y’got through t’them? They hated it? Fine makes y’sound like a teen coming home from school.”
She rolled her eyes. “They’re going to table my idea for another day,” she sounded exhausted, and Harry was tired too, so in hindsight, he was willing to take the entire blame for the argument and subsequent tense ride home.
“How do y’feel ‘bout that?”
“What do you even care for, Harry? What’s with the interrogation?”
“Forget it,” he sighed. “I was jus’ making conversation. Y’didn’t even ask how my day was.”
“How was your day?” She snapped.
“Fine.”
Her hands clenched into fists in her lap, and she inhaled deeply. “Don’t talk to me,” she grumbled.
“Fine by me.”
*
She drove every other day; it was their routine. It saved wear and tear on their cars and since her car was a hybrid, they really saved on gas and were doing their part to save the environment. If either of them had a car appointment or stayed home sick, then the other one would of course drive and they would pick up the following day, right where they left off.
When she drove, however, Harry was even grumpier, somehow. Though, it seemed impossible someone could be grumpier. But she made him leave an hour earlier than necessary. Harry was already awake and ready but he very much enjoyed a gradual wake up. He liked the time in the morning to do the daily NYT crossword puzzle and to meditate or workout before going to the office.
He did not like arguing an hour earlier than normal.
“It’s for the environment,” she mumbled to herself as Harry approached. He was otherworldly handsome. He looked like he should have been a model, not a financial wizard. His hair was perfectly messy, his eyes sparkled, and his entire frame was just meant to tempt her. In a suit (which he wore every weekday), he looked fan-fucking-tastic. Everything ironed crisply, his tie perfectly straight. He was sincerely hot—there was no other way to describe him.
But his weekend look? When she saw him out and about lounging in joggers and T-shirts that clung to every muscle in his torso? That was her favorite version of him. They usually ran into each other on nice weather days when they both wanted sunshine and air. Harry jogged a lot. She would read on the bench in front of her building. Sometimes they saw one another at the grocery store. But given they spent two hours every day in an enclosed area and argued for nearly the entire time, they were not spending any more of their weekend doing the same thing, so not much more than a polite hello was said between them.
“Good morning,” he murmured as he got in and settled his bag at his feet. Harry didn’t have a presentation to prep so he was planning on sleeping and meditating this morning with his head propped against the window.
“Morning,” she answered softly.
“Sleep okay?” He asked. “The rain and wind woke me a lot.”
“Same,” she agreed. “You’re going to try and sleep then?”
“Mmm,” he hummed. “S’that okay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
It felt less tense today. We’re not going to argue, she thought to herself.
While Harry slept, she remained focused on the road. Her mind making a mental to do list for when she arrived at the office. She knew Harry hated getting there early, but her brain focused so much better without people constantly bothering her.
For a company that clearly had it out for a woman in finance, they sure did need her a whole lot.
She had music on low that she sang quietly along with while Harry slept. If it bothered him, he didn’t say anything today.
Even with Harry sleeping most of the way, it had to be a record that they didn’t argue all the way until they were a mere five minutes from their building. Naturally, their getting along came to an abrupt end. A truck roared in front of her, cutting her off and merging with very little space between them so it could get to the next lane and off at the next turn. It made her gasp and slam on her brakes at the same time. Instinctively, she tossed her arm out to save Harry from whiplash, her arm pressed to the front of his body. “What the fuck!?” He shouted and jolted awake.
“Sorry! Sorry! I was—” She dropped her arm quickly and her hand went back to the steering wheel quickly, hiding the shake she felt in it.
“Were y’letting someone randomly go again?”
She had a penchant for being too polite on the road—it was Harry’s least favorite thing about her driving habits. “N-no—” her palms were sweating against the wheel, her heart pounding as she gripped at it tighter. She parked and felt a wave of frustration and worry fall over her. Even some embarrassment as Harry yelled at her.
She hated being cut off by another driver. It made her so nervous. She wasn’t a car person, but hers was her baby. She didn’t want anything to happen to it and if being a little extra nice and cautious on the road would keep it safe, then she would do it.
“S’more dangerous t’be polite,” he grumbled. “Jesus Christ.”
“I’m sorr—”
“Jus’ another reason we should get here so fucking early,” he snapped. “Forget it,” he shook his head and got out of the car and headed into the building without looking at her again. Still shaking, she pouted, took a few calming breaths and composed herself before she followed Harry’s path to their office building.
*
On the ride home she stopped for coffee and kindly purchased Harry one as well without asking—but when he heard her order it at the drive-through, he felt the argument from the morning disappearing slowly from his mind. “Thanks,” he mumbled from beside her.
“You’re welcome,” she figured less would be more in talking to him—especially after their morning.
But it didn’t help that she let two people merge in front of her as they got on the highway—almost like she was still nervous from this morning. Harry sighed heavily, like he was personally inconvenienced by her kindness to other drivers. She ignored it and continued home. Harry watched as she bit into a powdered donut she got. He rolled his eyes.
“What?” She asked through a mouthful, the sugar floated all over herself and her gearshift. He shook his head.
“S’a messy donut.”
“It’s my car,” she pouted. It was hard to take her seriously when she had powdered sugar all over her mouth. She was pretty adorable with sugar all over her cheeks, though, Harry would give her that.
“If y’want t’trade y’car in, they like it to be clean.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not getting rid of her ever.”
He just shook his head again. Some mornings she ate a breakfast sandwich and Harry watched the crumbs of her croissant rain on her outfit like confetti while she drove with one hand on the wheel. His car was pristine while hers was not. There were half empty water bottles in the back and random pieces of her “emergency” kit strewn about in the boot of her car in a way that Harry doubted would ever help if there was truly an emergency. There were blankets and reusable grocery bags all across the backseat—there was just no order. Which was so weird because she was one of the most organized people he knew.
“Y’know y’shouldn’t use plastic water bottles,” he rebuked as he caught sight of another one on the floor behind him.
She sighed. “I recycle them, Harry. Do you honestly think I don’t care about the environment when we carpool every day? Do you think that arguing with you for an hour and a half every day is because I hate the environment?”
“Forget it,” he sighed not wanting to argue. “How was your day?” He asked trying to recreate the tension free car ride that was present first thing this morning before they fought in the parking lot.
“It was okay,” she shrugged but immediately, Harry knew it was a lie. He quirked one eyebrow at her in disbelief and her unsure tone. With a bigger sigh, she relented. “I got yelled at for something that wasn’t my fault and then I didn't even get an apology when they realized it wasn’t.”
Harry frowned. “Did y’say something?”
“Did I try to hurt the male ego?" She shook her head with another eye roll. "Harry, I would never.”
He smirked and looked out the window. She was funny. Even if she was annoying. “Y’have no problem hurting my ego.”
“I hurt your ego?” She asked in surprise. He shrugged and nodded with a smirk still on his lips. That cute little wrinkle between her eyebrows pinched together and made itself known again. Harry once more was overcome by how adorable she was. He didn’t understand her question. Or why she cared. But he wished he had paid closer attention to her reaction because she suddenly looked so upset. “I didn’t know that,” her voice was soft. “I’m... I’m sorry, Harry,” and it really sounded like she was.
He blinked. “S’fine,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I know y’don’t mean it.”
“I don’t, truly.” It felt really important that Harry knew that. Maybe it was her crummy day. Coworkers continued to not trust her nor believe she was capable of doing well, which made her feel worse. God why did she continue working where she wasn’t wanted? Where she wasn’t appreciated? She was still a little shaken from her almost accident and her uncanny ability to piss Harry off. She was suddenly very forlorn over the idea that she had hurt Harry in any way. “How...how was your day?” She asked tentatively her voice catching.
“It was good,” he nodded, but he was looking at her suspiciously and the sound of anxiety coating her words. “Ordinary... Nothing t’really report... Who yelled at you, by the way?”
“No one, it’s nothing,” she shook her head quickly.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Then jus’ tell me, love. S’not a big deal.”
She sighed, irritated, dejected, and tired of arguing. “Do you know Jason?”
Harry scoffed. “He’s a prick and can’t add two plus two. Don’t let him get t’you. Sorry he yelled at you.”
It was one of the nicest things Harry had ever said on her behalf. “S’not your fault,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, but he shouldn’t. M’sure y’do everything perfectly. He’s probably jealous and stupid and everything else.”
“Thank you,” her voice was still soft. Her eyes felt misty at his kindness. Harry being nice on top of her shitty day was so overwhelming—too overwhelming.
Harry noticed right away. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, m’fine,” she nodded, wiping at her cheek.
“Y’don’t look fine, love... Why don’t y’pull over? I don’t want you t’drive if you’re emotional. S’not safe.”
She sniffed. “It’s fine. I’m just being overly sensitive. Not a lot of sleep and... It just... it wasn’t a very good day,” she swiped her hand beneath her nose and wiped her below her eye again while her words got caught in her throat a few times as she spoke.
“Hey,” his voice was gentle. More gentle than it ever had been toward her. “Please, love... jus’ pull over,” he encouraged quietly, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Love, please,” he pleaded. “S’okay t’be emotional.”
“No, it’s not,” she whimpered but pulled to the shoulder of the road at the same time as she heaved on a shaky breath. Cars whizzed past them and Harry watched her closely. “I work in a sea of testosterone, and I’m never appreciated, never respected, and I can’t be emotional,” she fanned her hand in front of her eyes trying to will the tears away. “Especially in front of you.”
“Me?” He pouted, anger took the forefront of his mind, but he had never seen her like this. He felt bad because she was so upset. So, he refrained from snapping back at her.
“You’ll just use it against me or save it for a rainy day to embarrass me.”
“Is that what you really think?” He tutted, his voice devoid of emotion.
She sniffled again. “Yeah... you yelled at me this morning... I didn’t mean to jostle you like that but someone cut me off and—”
She was still upset about that? That seemed like a lifetime ago. Yeah, Harry was irritated, but he felt bad she was holding onto something so small all day. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Her day must have been really shitty if she let one of their arguments take hold of her emotions all day long.
“Hey... hey don’t cry. M’sorry—I shouldn’t have—it doesn’t matter... But y’have t’know, I would never do that, love. M’sorry if I’ve made y’feel that way,” he soothingly rubbed her arm up and down. “S’okay,” he reassured her. “M’gonna drive the rest of the way home. Jus’ slide over for me, love, yeah?” He asked and before she could protest, he was getting out of the car and going to the driver’s side. Not that she really wanted to protest.
But she would have if they were in a parking lot or on a non-highway road. She tried the door handle but Harry shook his head as he approached the driver’s door and jutted his chin to the passenger seat again. Again, she might have argued, but she didn’t want Harry subjected to the busy traffic for any longer, so she awkwardly slid over the console as Harry stayed pressed to the side of the car.
One small piece of her brain realized the most handsome man she knew wasn't letting her get out on the traffic-side. It was a protective, chivalrous moment that made her stomach do a somersault.
Once in the passenger seat, she brushed the powdered sugar that was on the driver's side just before he sat and got powder all over her pants. “Why don’t y’nap or something?” He suggested quietly and pulled into traffic again without any other fanfare.
“Alright,” she sniffed. “Thanks, sorry again.”
“No problem, love,” he mumbled and drove the rest of the way home in silence. He hoped she felt a little better by the time he parked and gently shook her awake. He didn’t say much other than he would see her tomorrow and returned her keys to her. “Have a good night, love,” he murmured as he gathered his belongings and left before they could return to their natural instinct of arguing with one another.
*
After her mini meltdown she was really hopeful that they had turned a corner in their arguing. She couldn’t remember who started the first argument so long ago. When they realized they lived near one another and worked at the same place, it only made sense to carpool. But she didn’t know they would find fault in every little thing.
Harry was constantly late. (But he wasn’t. Not really. He was on time. Which may as well have been late in her book.) It made her insane. He braked too hard—just like the other day. His choice in podcasts was too real and scary at times (she couldn’t get on the true crime train). His favorite book genre was history, which was fine, but he often made fun of the lighter romance novels she liked. There was the no eating in the car rule. And of course, there was his constant backseat driving—it was never-ending.
It's for the environment. She reminded herself.
It was another long day. Her meetings didn’t go well. Her coworkers undervalued her worth and if wasn’t for the fact that her main supervisor gave her stunning reviews and the money was so good, she would have quit ages ago.
Harry was irritated, and she wasn’t sure why. She had cleaned her car over the weekend. She even had it detailed so it was as pretty as Harry’s car. All her blankets were neatly folded, water bottles recycled, and she organized the trunk. There was a new air freshener and everything.
And yet, Harry was still annoyed. He turned the fan off. Twice. She adjusted the settings, they hadn’t even left the parking garage, and he still turned it off. “S’hot.”
“It’s not hot,” she grumbled.
“It feels like m’sweating. Gonna have a heat stroke.”
“Well, I’m cold.”
“Of course you are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
It seemed Harry’s day wasn’t too good either as he was just as willing to argue and just as willing to stand his ground. While they argued they continued turning the temperature knob from one extreme to the other.
“You’re gonna break it!” She whined.
“You’re such a brat.”
Her neck snapped to face him. Her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. “A brat!?” Her voice was three octaves higher than normal. It felt like the car was shaking.
“Yes, a brat who throws a fit when y’don’t get your way. All the time. Y’want t’leave an hour earlier. Y’want t’eat in the car. Roll the windows down, no now up. Y’want t’listen t’your dumb radio station that is ninety-percent ads. You’re. A. Brat.”
She did slam on her brakes at his explanation. She pulled toward the sidewalk right outside their office building. “Get. Out.”
Harry stared in disbelief. “You’re joking,” he cackled.
“I’m tired of arguing. You’re such a dick to me all the time,” she smacked her hand on the steering wheel. “I had a bad day, and you clearly had a bad day and you can’t leave well enough alone! So yeah. The environment can spare two less people carpooling. Get out of my fucking car, Harry Styles before I run us both into a telephone pole.”
“You’re so judgmental and so ridiculous—”
“Get out!” She practically shrieked.
Harry glared, yanking his stuff from where it sat at his feet. He got out of the car, slamming her door hard. He wouldn’t be surprised if it got stuck shut or if the whole frame shook as he did so. She peeled off the curb leaving Harry to fume. They never fought like that. Almost all their arguments always ended in a quiet “good night” or “have a good day.” Never did she shove him out of the car.
He was simmering with anger. He paced a few steps on the sidewalk trying to calm himself to figure out what to do. Maybe he could call her back. An Uber was going to cost a small fortune to get back home. Worth it, he supposed. God, she drained the life out of him.
He was breathing heavily. Good riddance. It was a dumb idea trying to carpool with someone that made him infuriated. Incensed with the feeling of being right, he scrolled on his app for a new ride.
Before he could submit his request for the most expensive Uber in the history of the world, all anger left his body—floated away as if it wasn’t even there in the first place.
There was a screech of tires and a sickening crunch of metal. Harry looked up just in time to see her car do a full 360 before landing upside down in the middle of the intersection. Her car teetered back and forth as it balanced on the roof. His jaw went slack as he watched the car of the pretty girl he was just arguing with crunch in the middle of the roadway. He was practically ready to strangle her himself but he never wanted—
“Oh my God,” he whispered to himself. Before he fully grasped his own movements he was sprinting into the middle of the roadway.
Without knowing what else to do, he knelt to the ground in a spray of plastic, metal, and glass, his face was almost pressed to the ground as he tried to peer into the only available space. “Baby? You with me?” He asked looking at the terrified, shaking girl. There was blood pouring from her hairline, her hands gripped the steering wheel around the deployed airbag like she was still driving.
“H-Harry?” She whispered. A switch flipped inside him. He wanted to rip the upside-down door off and yank her out. He wanted to hold her. All those annoying things she did, they didn’t bother him anymore. She was so pretty, so sweet, and so funny. The mere thought of her injured, terrified him and broke his heart. He didn't know he felt that way and he was mortified that it took this to realize it.
“M’here, love. M’here, you’re okay, just focus on me,” he was shaking as he dialed on his phone for the emergency line. “There’s been a car crash in the intersection outside of Prosperis Financial,” he said. “There’s at least one injured party.”
“Harry,” she whimpered.
“I know. I know, my love. I know,” he cooed.
God how could he be so stupid? How could he get out of the car? How could he take so long to get out of the car? If they just didn’t fight, they would have been through the intersection and—
“Harry, my head hurts,” she interrupted his spiraling.
“I know, kitten, I know,” he repeated.
“A-and my leg hurts really bad,” she whispered a small break in her voice. She was shocked and in near tears.
“Don’t move your neck, baby,” he ordered.
“I’m scared,” she cried.
“I know, love, I know, m’scared too. But m’not going t'leave you for one second, baby, okay? You’re going t’be fine, everything’s going t’be fine,” he sounded pretty reassuring considering he was freaking out too.
“I didn’t—I didn't see it,” she sniffled.
“S’not your fault, kitten. S’okay. You’re okay, love. Just breathe, and keep talking, yeah?”
“I didn’t mean to yell at you...” she croaked, the anxiety in her voice broke his heart. He hated she felt she had to say it. “I don’t mean to, ever. I-I don’t know why—”
“Shh… we’re not talking ‘bout that. S’okay, my love. We’re okay,” he promised. She could argue whatever she wanted. Harry was in complete agreement. She was right. Every time. He did brake too hard. She wasn’t too nice to others on the road. She could eat in the car or have the heat on in the middle of the summer. Whatever she wanted.
“Okay... I'm sorry,” her voice sounded quiet.
“Help is coming, baby. M’not gonna leave your side, yeah? Jus’ hang on a little bit longer. I know—”
“I’m sorry I eat in your car sometimes,” she whispered her voice cracking more as she apologized for things that no longer mattered. “I’m sorry I’m a brat—”
“No, no, my love. You’re not a brat... shh...” he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her figure, clutching the wheel like she was scared to let go. His heart was aching to do something more, beating too loud in his ears. He wanted to keep her talking. Wanted to rip her out of the car and make sure she was alright. She could do whatever she wanted in his car for the rest of her life. As far as he was concerned, he would be driving her every day for the rest of time. She was never getting behind the wheel again. “S’okay, baby. Whatever makes y’happy.”
She sniffled. “Harry, I don’t feel very good,” she mumbled. “My head hurts.”
“I know it does, kitten,” his voice cracked hearing the exhaustion in her voice. “I’d trade with y’in a heartbeat,” he mumbled.
She sniveled. “I wanna get out.”
“I know, my love. M’trying. They’ll be here soon.”
“I’m scared,” her voice was soft again.
“Baby, I know,” he groaned. Where the fuck was the ambulance?!
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m glad you weren’t in the car,” she whispered. His heart shattered.
“M’not, kitten. M’not glad at all,” he shook his head.
“I think I’m going to pass out,” she warned and then her neck went limp.
“Baby?” Her hands slid from the steering wheel and her head lolled to the side. “Shit!” Harry reached through the broken glass, but the angle was too awkward, and he couldn’t see and reach at the same time. “Kitten, love,” his voice pitched an octave higher with hysteria quickly flooding him. “Baby? Open your eyes! Please,” he begged. “Kitten? Come on,” he muttered reaching blindly for her again. “Fuck,” he croaked.
“Excuse us, sir,” an EMT was finally at his side pushing Harry out of the way. He covered his mouth, sitting back on his heels as they pulled the car to its wheels once more. There was a flurry of movement as they pried through the metal and glass to get her. He choked on his breath as they removed her and he swallowed hard, his heart felt broken as they put a brace around her neck and lifted her onto a stretcher—still unconscious much to his horror. “Are you the boyfriend? Coming on the ambulance?” the paramedic asked.
“Yes,” he answered immediately and filed in behind them.
*
Harry called her mom and sister. They were on their way. He paced the waiting room with the biggest teddy bear the shop had to purchase while he waited for her surgery and tests to end. It felt endless. Harry thought he had aged ten years during the time he was there waiting.
He also got her a balloon—a heart shaped one that said get well soon. He got flowers. And chocolate too. Once he saw her pretty eyes open again and her family was present, he was going to get her a coffee and breakfast sandwich too.
His clothes were dirty from lying in the street, the knees of his slacks had the tiniest holes and rips. His cheek had a few cuts and scratches from pressing it to the ground while he spoke to her upside-down body.
“Are you the boyfriend?”
He shook the thoughts of seeing her bleeding, terrified body away from his mind at the sound of someone speaking to him.
It was hard to believe only yesterday he would have shuddered at the thought. “Yes,” he answered instantly, not caring in the slightest that he was lying for the second time in several hours about their relationship status. “Is she alright?”
“She’s fine,” the doctor stated. Harry sighed with relief, dragged a hand through his hair and swallowed around the relieved tears that filled his eyes and cut off the voice in his throat. He coughed awkwardly.
“Can I see her?” He asked. “Please?”
“Yes, she’s just coming out of the anesthesia,” he explained and tilted his head toward the hallway. Harry grabbed all his presents for her and followed. “She’s a little out of it still,” he warned.
“But she’s okay?” He repeated like he didn't believe the doctor.
“Yes, she’s fine,” he knocked and opened the door.
“Oh, your boyfriend is here, miss,” an older nurse smiled at her as she fiddled with her pillows and the IV stand.
The sweet girl looked high as a kite, her eyes wide, the cut on her forehead stitched. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she frowned. That cute wrinkle between her brows appeared and Harry wanted nothing more than to smooth it away and ease the tension she felt.
“You might want to rethink that,” a woman smiled at Harry with a wink. “He’s very cute and he brought you gifts.”
“Hi, kitten, baby,” he cooed and crouched beside her bed.
“You’re my boyfriend?” She mumbled in surprise. Her eyes were so wide with the loopy medicine, and he smirked, tears filling his eyes again.
“Yes, my love,” he didn’t even feel like he was lying. To her nor to himself about their relationship. It made sense and he truly adored her so easily. He was grateful for the switch in his mind, he just wished a car accident wasn't the cause.
She smiled, self-satisfied. “I knew you liked me,” she mumbled.
He chuckled and leaned forward to press his lips against her forehead. “Y’okay, baby?” He asked.
“They gave me medicine,” she explained holding up her arm that had three or four needles sticking in it.
“Easy, kitten,” he grabbed her outstretched arm and cupped her hand in both of his with a chuckle. He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed her knuckles as the nurse pulled a chair up beside her for Harry to sit in.
“Harry," she said suddenly. Like he wasn't listening to her or paying attention to every little movement. "I broke my leg,” she pouted.
“M’sorry, kitten,” he was livid she was injured but with pain meds she was so cute and adorable that he almost chuckled at the way she sighed and frowned about her situation.
She glanced at their interconnected hands. “Have we been dating long? I didn’t know I had a boyfriend. Do I have amnesia?”
He snickered, kissed her fingers again. “No,” he shook his head. “S’quite new.”
“Oh,” she blinked and a smile grew on her face. “I like that you’re my boyfriend,” she sighed dreamily. “Isn’t he hot?” She asked the nurse who was checking her vitals again. Harry rolled his eyes, smirking and looking away from her and the nurse at her appraisal. It was good to know she felt affected by his presence as well. He liked her loopy thoughts and he hoped they would remain true when the medicine wore off. “Did you call my mom?” She asked curiously.
He nodded, cleared his throat as he focused on more important facts and not worrying about their fake relationship status. “Yes, she’s on her way with your sister. I need t’call them, actually,” he pulled his phone out.
“How did you get their number?”
“I looked them up on social media,” he mumbled keeping hold of one hand as he pressed the phone to his ear.
“Harry?” Her sister’s voice asked alertly.
“Hi Thea, she’s okay. M'sitting with her now. She’s loopy from the anesthesia but she’s awake.”
“Tell her to get me coffee,” she whispered loudly. Loud enough for her sister to hear through the phone. Harry smiled.
Thea sighed with relief and snickered. “Sounds like her,” she mumbled. “Thank you, Harry. We’re about twenty minutes out.”
“Of course,” he assured her. “You’ll tell your mum?” He asked.
“Yes, I got it.”
“See you soon.”
Harry placed his phone back in his pocket and watched her loopy mind work through something on her extremely expressive face. “Are you going to kiss me?” She giggled.
Harry laughed. “Later, baby.”
“When’s later?”
“When you’re a little coherent, m’love.”
She blew a breath through her lips making them sputter. “S’not fair.”
“I know,” the smile remained on his face knowing she was okay, and she wanted him to kiss her. It was a bit wild that the switch flipped so rapidly. This was someone he argued with for over two years every day and now he wanted to kiss her, hold her, and never let her go.
“Can I take a nap?” She yawned. “I’m sleepy.”
Harry turned to the nurse. “Can she? Does she have a concussion?”
“Shockingly, no concussion,” the nurse said reading the chart. “You can nap for a bit.”
She closed her eyes instantly. “Night Harry,” she sighed. “I love you.”
He felt his cheeks warm. Ignored her sweet words regardless of how much he would like them to be true. “Night, baby,” he chuckled and pressed another kiss to her forehead as she drifted to sleep without letting go of his hand.
*
When she woke up the next time she was staring at Harry in awe. “Thea, I’m fine,” she rolled her eyes. The anesthesia had worn off a bit and she didn’t seem to remember she said I love you nor that Harry claimed to be her boyfriend. While she was hesitant to believe that Harry was really there for her, she was glad he was. She was foggy on the details but there was no mistaking that she felt a pull toward him. Maybe it was the kindness he showed her.
“You live in a fourth-floor apartment. You’re not fine. And your car is trash.”
Harry sat quietly to the side of the room while her mom and sister doted on her. Her mom was on the phone with the insurance company taking notes and questioning a lot. “Well, what am I supposed to do? I don't have a choice, I have to figure it out,” she shrugged.
“Figure what out? You’re going to just stay in your apartment for the next six weeks? You’ll go insane. And what if there’s a fire?”
“The chances of me getting in a car wreck and have my apartment catch on fire is probably astronomically small.”
Harry chuckled from his spot, but the sisters ignored him. “You hate your job. Why don’t you just quit and move back home for a bit?
Back home? Harry thought. Not next door? That wouldn't work for Harry's already obsessed heart. “I have a spare bedroom,” Harry said in offering. “First floor apartment in m'building next t'hers,” he was speaking to Thea and not her.
She and Thea both turned to look at him. “I cannot—” She started.
“Really?” Thea interrupted. “You won’t mind? She’s going to need... a lot of help.”
“I can handle it,” he assured her. Thea knew they drove together. She was also well aware that her sister and Harry argued every day. There was no way Harry was going to survive taking care of her if they couldn’t spend more than five minutes in a car without arguing with one another. She watched Harry, bewildered by his kindness toward her. His willingness to take care of her and let her be a burden when he couldn’t stand her most days. “Are y’alright with that, love?”
It might have only been minutes between arguing and her accident, but the change of heart in herself over Harry was something to be admired. Harry was there almost before her airbag finished deploying. He kept her as calm as he could while they waited for the ambulance and promised her it would be okay. He reassured her that all their arguing didn’t mean anything and she softened. She felt herself melting for him. All the little things he did no longer bothered her. He really didn’t slam on the brakes. It was rude of her to want to eat in his car and make a mess. Perhaps it was too hot in her car and she was a little too mean about his favorite book genre.
Am I in love with Harry? She thought to herself. “If...if you’re sure... That’s an awful lot of time to spend with me,” she reminded him wondering if it was only her that was warmed by the near-death experience and she was imagining the knight-and-shining-armor-complex.
“Happy to,” he nodded and remained in his seat.
Harry was holding her hand when her sister and mom arrived, he gave her a gentle shake and called her kitten. Kitten your mum s’here. His voice was so warm and soothing. He didn’t remove his hand until she opened her eyes and his kind smile was a sweet greeting. He cupped her face and brushed his thumb against her jaw. M’gonna sit by the window while they visit, yeah?
“Do you ladies need anything?” He asked standing. “Coffee? Tea? Food?”
“All set, thank you Harry,” her mom smiled around the phone.
“I’m good too,” Thea nodded.
“Baby, all good?”
She nearly choked on her own spit hearing the pet name directed at her, in front of her family. “Yes,” she murmured then shook her head. “Um... maybe just water?”
“Sure, love. Be right back.”
“I thought he hated you,” Thea was smiling excitedly.
“I thought he did too,” she shrugged a shoulder.
“You’re just going to live with him?”
She smirked. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?”
*
Harry carried all her stuff into his apartment and settled it in the spare room. He made sure she was safe in his apartment while he went with her sister to her place to get a suitcase of her clothes from next door. Harry was going to take her to get a new car as soon as the insurance check came through. He helped her to the couch and made sure she felt comfortable. Her foot was propped on a pillow as she stretched out on his furniture. For six weeks they were going to live together.
“Are y'in any pain? Do y’need anything?” He asked making sure she had the remote, a book, water, and blanket all within reach.
“M’fine,” she nodded.
“You sure y’don’t need anything?” He frowned.
“Harry,” she reached for his hand and held it. “Could you sit with me?”
His frown deepened. He crouched beside her, sitting on the coffee table close to her. He squeezed her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Thank you for being there for me,” she whispered. “I was very scared.”
“Course, baby.”
Her heart skipped a beat with the sweet name again. “Do you like me?” She whispered.
“Was I unclear?” He asked, reaching for her face. His hand fit her cheek perfectly and he rubbed his thumb on her lower lip. The way his eyes softened as he looked at her was the stuff of her romance novels. His eyelids lowered and the smile on his mouth was equal parts sexy as it was innocent. “S’a little selfish of me inviting you here while you recover, don't y'think? S'a reason for it, love."
She cleared her throat, trying not to melt under his touch, his gaze. It seemed impossible. “But... we—we,” she took a deep breath trying to get the sentence in her head to form in her mouth. “Argue so much.”
“S’maybe we could try not arguing.”
“I feel like we’re incapable—”
He interrupted and normally she would have been mad, but his words made her feel hot, burning, like she wasn’t going to get relief unless he kissed her. “Jus’ gotta find a different way t’keep our mouths entertained, kitten,” he leaned forward and stopped when their lips were all but a millimeter apart. “May I?” He asked politely.
“Uh-huh, yes,” she nodded, her brain short circuiting just a hair. Her lips brushed his as she nodded, creating a spark of electricity unlike anything she had felt before. He moaned quietly at the contact. The sound was short-lived, and he tilted her chin and slid his lips over hers.
She gripped at his shirt by his shoulders, pulling him toward her. She felt herself opening to him: her mouth, her brain, her legs. She wanted him all over her and he couldn’t get close enough. It felt insane that less than twenty-four hours ago she would have strangled him for breathing too loudly beside her in the enclosed space of his car and now she wanted him breathing too loudly because of her kisses and more.
He caressed her jaw and the back of her head, tugging her hair ever so softly so she tilted her head back further. “S’nice, baby,” he sighed softly and trailed a path of kisses down her throat. “Knew we could not argue.”
She laughed and nodded. “Guess that’s what’s been missing.”
He chuckled. “Mmm,” he hummed in agreement. “Worth it,” he shrugged one shoulder and dove back in for another heated kiss, making her moan quietly into his mouth. His lips were warm, soft, firm, and perfect. It was a quick path to addiction, and she was happy to have him as her drug.
“Y’said y’loved me when y’came out of anesthesia,” he practically giggled as he pulled away.
She gasped. “I did not.”
“You did.”
“NO.” She slapped a hand over her warm, embarrassed face. “No I didn’t. You're lying.”
“You did, kitten. So sweet of you,” he winked.
She groaned and turned away from him. “I should have just gone into a coma.”
He laughed stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. “It was cute. You were all loopy.”
“I am not cute. I’m an adult woman and I’m not cute.”
“You’re adorable, actually. S’probably why m’obsessed with you.”
“You only knew you were obsessed with me twenty-four hours ago.”
He shrugged. “And I can’t get enough,” he assured her with a wink. “Now, m’thinking I’ll kiss you for another long while and then I’ll make you dinner?”
Her heart fluttered. “I like you a lot better when we don’t argue," she agreed.
He chuckled. “Me too, kitten. Me too,” he mumbled but followed through on his promise to kiss her again and not argue.
--
general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach
I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)
Warnings: Primal play (chasing/hunting), Werewolf!Harry (he’s human form but has claws/fangs/knot and non-human senses– mostly scent stuff), teensy-tiny blood play, squirting if you squint, knot/knotting mention (sorry i am an abo lover at heart but this is not an abo fic!), mate/mating mention, breeding kink
AN: Sorry this is like 1k words of reader being chased… there is twice as much smut! Also sorry if Harry is too beastly/creature-esque :’) Anyway, happy spooky season lovelies!
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Twigs and branches snapped around you as your feet carried you over damp undergrowth and duff. Your heartbeat was pounding in your throat and every breath burned as your lungs worked overtime. Even through the pummel of your heartbeat in your ears you could hear the gruff pants of the beast behind you– hot on your tail.
Harry could be a good hunter when he wanted to. Years of practice had culminated an ease of pursuit. He knew how to keep his breathing down. He knew how to move seamlessly– with the prowess to be three steps ahead of his prey. He knew which paths to follow in the twisted woods that surrounded his home. But for you, he waived those instilled precepts– he wanted you to be scared, you were just so much sweeter that way.
You’d been running for what felt like hours. Sweat dripped down your back and from your temples. Your arms and legs were covered in a grazing of cuts and scrapes. Harry always gave you a head start, “it’s more fun that way” he’d said, and while you did your best to meander in calculated circles at the start to throw off your scent trail– it never worked.
You’d tried hiding the first time Harry brought you out to the woods, burrowed yourself into a thicket of vine maple and sword ferns. You’d hoped that the wet detritus of leaf litter, pine and petrichor would shield you, but the natural notes of the forest had been no match for Harry’s meticulous nose. The smell of your arousal combined with the unmistakable stench of fear on your skin was just too strong. He’d found you in minutes, snarling in displeasement at your pacified attempt at satisfying his inner wolf before he took you on the forest floor.
Harry’s gruff breaths were growing closer. You could hear the snaps of twigs and brush of bramble not your own from behind. Your legs ached, muscles burning with a fire you still had not grown used to. Each breath was growing more painful and you could feel your body beginning to slow down from exertion. It was only a matter of time before his claws would sink into the plush of your skin and he would take you down.
Stumbling over a tree root, you looked up at the night sky hoping for a glimpse of the moon or a star to guide you but the cloud covering was patchy and ambiguous. Still you carried on, heaving and tumbling through the verdant foliage.
You were pretty sure the small creek that cut through the property was up ahead but everything had started to blend together in the dark and you weren’t quite sure which way to run anymore.
Growing hazy and exhausted your mind began to wander to what Harry had planned for you tonight. Would he bite, scratch and tear your clothes to get to his prize? Would he throw you over his shoulder and carry you back to his house and make you do whatever he said? You couldn’t wait to see what was next and part of you wanted to stop on purpose just to see, but you knew Harry would be displeased you didn’t play his game fairly, so you carried on.
Your surroundings began to grow more recognizable, a small trail between a copse of trees was just up ahead– only discernable by the gap in the blackness the overgrowth created. He wanted you to play fair, you could do that. Instead of taking the path, which is what you presumed he’d assume you’d take, you veered left into a boscage of fern and foam flower.
As you careened through the uncharted forest you began to realize how foolish you were.
The pine trees grew bigger, their canopies towering and obscuring the sliver of moonlight that was illuminating your path. The underbrush was dense, far too much to make out any rocks or roots that you could stumble on underfoot. Your pace slowed as you navigated the dense foliage and you hoped that your conscious movements would carry you through the untamed brush.
Harry had slowed with you, realizing your disadvantage in the foolish decision you’d made to take the path less traveled. He could make out his surroundings clearly in the dark, and you were just a little beacon of light in his eyes, your skin practically glowing in the pale light. He treaded with vigilance behind you, careful of any twig or branch that could snap beneath his weight. And you were none the wiser to his ever creeping presence.
He watched you stumble, holding back a huff of amusement as you steadied yourself against the trunk of a tree. He would wait for the perfect moment, and while that was closing in, he wanted to let you think you were farther from him than you were.
The foliage began to open up, the trees getting further apart, as you approached the trickle of the small creek. You’d tried to avoid reaching the creekbed, the rocky ground did nothing to hide your footsteps and it was always a harsher tumble to take when he inevitably did get his claws in you. Staying close to the ecotone you picked up speed as the terrain was more even, hoping you could grow the distance between you.
That's when you heard the unmistakable crunch of rock underfoot from behind. You’d been so careful to stay on the sodden soil– dampening your footsteps and you knew it was a deliberate move from Harry the second you heard it.
Harry could practically hear your heartbeat spike from where he was. The smell of your skin seemed to grow saccharine with fear and arousal and he couldn’t wait to lick the sweat that had beaded on your skin. You veered back into the brush, away from the riverbed, just like he wanted you to. The direction you were heading would lead to an especially dense thicket, one he was sure you’d lose your footing in.
He didn’t bother refraining the snarl that escaped as he picked up pace behind you. His grunts and growls were untamed, each breath and noise further instilling that he was close and you were his prey.
Branches and leaves snapped against your arms like stinging whips. The dewy ferns brushed along your calves making goosebumps prickle along your skin. His breathing was so close, you swore you could almost feel its warmth. Knowing he was just right behind you had you fighting against clenching your thighs together from the arousal that had been pooling– you were sure your panties were soaked at this point.
One wrong step and you came tumbling down– just like Harry knew you would from the second you stumbled back into the forest. You landed with an oomph, your wrists burning from the impact of your fall, your knees scraping against the prickly duff of the bramble. Harry practically salivated at the sight, already down on the ground and ready to be mounted.
“Got you,” he gruffed as his body collided with your back.
The heat from his body was oppressive as he pawed at your flesh, the points of his claws digging and etching into your skin. Your underwear burned against your skin as he tore the flimsy material from your body. “God, you smell so good,” he growled against your ear as the sticky mess between your thighs became exposed to the cool of the night.
You whimpered as the head of his cock slid between the slickness of your lips. Sometimes you’d fight, thrash against him just to appease Harry’s vision that you were prey, but there was no point in this position– and you were drenched. With the chase having been your foreplay there was no need for Harry to tease or prepare you. He only had one thing in mind– to breed his pretty mate.
His claws dug into the plush of your hips, holding you still as the crown of his cock parted the tightness of your hole with one bludgeoning blow. You whimpered at the force of his penetrating thrust, the depth of him inside of you nearly incomprehensible.
“Shut up and take it like the pretty girl you are,” he snarled as he tangled his hand into the back of your hair, pressing your face into the damp soil below.
He hit your g-spot with a practiced precision that made it so you couldn’t hold back the whimpers and whines that fell from your mouth if you even tried. His hips snapped at a rapid rate, the sound of his pelvis hitting your hips in a rhythmic pattern, and aside from the quiet babble of the creek nearby your pathetic noises were the only sounds to be heard for miles.
A smack echoed in the woods as his large hand came down on the curve of your ass, the points of his claws adding the sting of his slap. “Fuck–,” you groaned through gritted teeth.
Harry growled as you clenched around him, “Fuck, you like that pretty girl, like when I spank that pretty ass of yours?” You mewled at his words, a whimpery, whiney noise that only seemed to add fuel to the fire that blistered beneath his skin– the innate urge to make you his.
You groaned as his hand came down in a swat on your other cheek. He left the heat of his hand on your reddening flesh, the points of his claws digging further than they had before into your already stinging skin.
“Such a filthy- fucking- slut,” he punctuated his words with his thrusts as he began to draw the points of his claws over the curve of your ass and down the dip of your spine. The sensation of his claws in your skin a pleasant distraction from the small cuts and scrapes you were sure covered your body.
His hands slip from the spread of your hips up the curve of your sweatslicked back. Tangling his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck Harry pulled your head up from the sodden forest floor. You could feel the debris of pine needles and moss clinging to the damp of your cheek and forehead but you couldn’t begin to care as Harry pressed his lips against the shell of your ear, “Always take me so fucking good.”
Using the sharp points of his canines Harry nipped and suckled at the delicate plane of your neck, sucking marks along cords of your throat. A low satisfied hum emanated from his ribcage as he tasted the sweat on your skin. His senses keened to the palate of your body and he couldn’t get enough of the tangy notes of adrenaline and fear mixed together with the natural sweetness of your skin.
With your muscles already burning from prior exertion, the bubbling of your orgasm in the ending of your nerves was another reminder of what you endured to get here. Something about being on the receiving end of Harry’s feral and uninhibited ministrations always did you in. Seeing him in his primal glory was undeniably hot– if it weren’t you wouldn’t be here.
Harry could feel you clenching around the thickness of his cock in steady pulses. Steading his grasp around your waist, he held your back firmly to his chest as he continued to fuck up into you. Your tits shook with every jolt of his hips upward, nipples peaking in the chilled air. The noises that clawed up your throat and tumbled from your lips with each thrust became a constant as you neared your peak.
“Gonna come for me pretty girl?” He snarled, his breath hot against the tepid skin behind your ear. “Show the world how pretty you look when you come baby, want every plant and animal in this forest to know who’s making you come.”
His free hand snaked around your front, slipping past the hair that covered your mound to play with your swollen clit. The rough pads of his fingers circled your nub with an inhuman precision that made your mind spiral– each faint nudge and bump of his claws against your most sensitive area a reminder of the beast that was fucking you.
The muscles in your thighs shook as you came with a cry of his name, the wetness of your orgasm seeping down the inside of your thighs and mixing with the detritus of the forest floor. Harry grunted as your orgasm flooded his senses. He loved how you felt gripping his cock and how he could smell the treacle of your arousal interweaving with the scent of pine and petrichor.
“Atta girl,” he snarled through bared teeth. His fangs nipped at the hinge of your jaw, licking at the blood that surfaced against your unmarred skin.
You jellied in Harry’s grasp, your muscles weak and tired from strain and struggle of being hounded by him. He let your body down with solicitude, careful to lower your limbs to the forest floor with ease. You let your arms sprawl lazily against the forest bed, the pine and moss a welcome cushion beneath your flushed cheeks as Harry continued to ravage you from behind.
He smoothed his hand back over the dip of your low-back, admiring the bend and curves of your body, his pretty mate beneath him in the moonlight. “Gonna fuck you so full of my come pretty girl,” he snarled as he anchored his claws back into the plush of your hips.
Harry could tell by your whimpery noises you could give him one more and he began to grunt with every thrust– the idea of coming again with his mate enough to have his own beginning to tingle at the base of his spine.
You began to feel the swell of his knot at your entrance as each thrust of his grew more restrained. The prospects of Harry knotting you, plugging you with his come and keeping you like that had your nerves tingling with the low waves of another orgasm on the horizon.
“Gonna give me another pretty girl,” he huffed, fixing his grasp on your hips to keep you level with him as he began to feel your knees sliding on the slippery pine needles. You could only make pathetic noises in response, mewling little cries and sniffles as he continued to nudge against your sensitive g-spot with every thrust.
Harry wished he could keep you like this forever– at his mercy, your cunt gripping his cock like a vice in the middle of the woods. If he could have it his way he’d keep you his prey forever, hunting you and stuffing you full of his come until the day you were knocked up with his pups. While this might just be a game to satisfy his inner wolf, the thought of you pregnant with his child had him reeling.
You didn’t realize how chilly it was until the sweatslicked skin of his chest met your back as his arm curled around you– holding you tightly. He kissed and nipped at your shoulder blades, gentle enough not to draw blood. You whimpered at the filthy things he muttered against your humid skin, clenching around him with each passing filthy thought, “Gonna look so good stuffed full of my cock, my come, my pups. Greedy little thing y’are, just want all of me don’t you.”
As his knot continued to swell you could feel the tingly beginnings of your orgasm building in your fingertips and toes. You whined a string of pleas as Harry’s fingers snaked back over your belly and mound so he could play with your sensitive clit again. “Give me another sweet thing, let me hear who you belong to.”
It didn’t take much for you to unravel again, your cunt tensing around the swell of his knot– an almost painful intrusion against your tired muscles as you cried his name into the silent night. The wetness of your orgasm shimmered in the moonlight between your parted thighs.
Harry’s breath was rugged as he shuddered above you. Too consumed by his innate drive to mate you, Harry came with his teeth secured into the skin of your shoulder blade– suppressing the animalistic noises that mauled up his throat. His knot swelled, plugging you completely with the warmth of his come buried deep inside of your cunt.
Feeling the weight of his body, the thick of his knot, and the bite of his teeth in your skin filled you with a near overwhelming sense of pride. You were his mate, his and only his and that notion had you fluttering with a flood of affection for the man collapsed atop you.
“Did so good f’me, pretty girl,” he cooed as he licked at the small bites and indentations of his teeth along your back. “My pretty, pretty mate.”
His touch was tender as he carefully rolled the two of you on to your sides. You winced with the movement, his cock and knot still stuffed deep inside your aching cunt. His touches were gentle though, as he held you, licking and kissing at the scrapes and scratches that adorned your arms and shoulders, brushing the dirt that dotted your cheekbones and nose. You were sure you’d be covered in marks come morning and already you were mentally preparing to alleviate the guilt Harry would have in the morning over the state of your body. It was all worth it at the end of the day to see Harry in his most unbridled and primitive form– to be able to share that with him was truly one of the greatest gifts.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Find my masterlist here!
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Summary: In the world of fame and fortune, image is everything. Music sensation Harry Styles never expected to cross paths with her again—the childhood friend he was taught to despise. But she becomes the perfect candidate when his team convinces him that a marriage to an “ordinary” woman could boost his public image. Struggling under the weight of debt, she reluctantly agrees to his cold, transactional offer: one year of marriage in exchange for financial freedom.
Four months in, the arrangement is nothing short of a battlefield. Trapped in a loveless, tension-filled marriage, Y/N fights to survive the ruthless world of wealth and scrutiny, while Harry wrestles with the resentment and defiance ingrained in him by his mother. Forced together by circumstance but divided by years of bitterness, they toe the line between hatred and something far more dangerous. Because the real question isn’t whether they can survive the year. No, it’s whether they’ll make it out unscathed.
His Angel: (ongoing)
Pairing: College!Yn x CrimeBossl!Harry
Summary: Your life is pretty normal with classes, exams, coffee runs, and late-night cramming sessions. Everything is exactly what you’d expect for a college student. Well…except for your boyfriend. The one who settles business disputes with bullets. While most girls are dating frat guys or baristas, you somehow end up with Harry, the cold, ruthless boss of a powerful criminal empire. He’s dangerous, intimidating, and not the kind of man you bring home to meet your parents… but with you? He’s frustratingly soft.
Between dodging rivals, dealing with his overprotectiveness, and trying to convince him that no, intimidation is not a valid negotiation tactic for group projects, your life is anything but ordinary. Love might be blind, but it’s also definitely armed and dangerous.
Windows facing: (ongoing)
Fratboy!harry
Summary: By sophomore year, Y/N’s gotten used to the chaos. Specifically, the chaos coming from the frat house directly next to her apartment. Ever since move-in day freshman year, her bedroom window has faced his: Harry Styles. Loud, shirtless, smug, and apparently hell-bent on ruining her peace.
Their window wars have become tradition: insults yelled across the alley, lights flicked on at 3 a.m., and a rivalry that keeps the entire floor entertained. But somewhere between the late-night fights and sarcastic truce offerings, something unexpected begins to grow
She was supposed to hate him.
He was supposed to be a joke.
But their windows aren’t the only things opening.
Operation Pizza Renaissance: (ongoing)
Sunshine!Yn x Mafia!Harry
Summary: A bubbly college girl volunteers at a struggling NYC pizzeria thinking she’s found the perfect place to volunteer her social media skills and gain culinary experience. What she doesn’t know? The pizzeria is a front for the mafia. While she’s busy staging pizza photos and planning giveaways, the crew is laundering money and dodging feds. She's just trying to go viral—meanwhile, the mob is trying to keep her from accidentally blowing their cover.
And the more time Harry spends with the chaotic sunshine in his kitchen, the more he realizes: she might be the most dangerous thing to ever walk through that door.
One shots:
Yours: (ongoing)
Pairing: normal!Yn x famous!Harry
Summary : From red carpet mishaps to lazy Sunday mornings, this one-shot collection captures all the chaos, charm, and chemistry of dating someone everyone wants but who’s only ever yours.
Blurbs:
National Girlfriend Day
5 minutes (Fluff)
· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·
Taglist is open :)
- please let me know if you want to be on the general tag list or for a specific story
9th - His Angel: Please Me by @ghstyles (I love my His Angel babies)
10th - Alone At Midnight by @harrywavycurly (demon harry, asshole at first, then melts and becomes a sweet loverboy, brief shawn mendes slander, smut at the end)
14th - Y/N is the only person Harry can really tolerate by @jawllines (neighbour harry kinda, he's a bit grumpy and rude at first, there should have been another part tho)
15th - Good Girls Get Good Boys Begging by @zaynmaliksdirtygirl (just a smutty blurb)
21st - Alchemy by @ghstyles (boyfriend harry, slight angst, smut, the bathroom scene was so hot, the arguments, the tension, the way they both handled the situation, the whole thing is really really hot, so good, loved it)
25th - Here, kitty kitty @gurugirl (halloween feels, creepy, spooky, little bit of smut, really fucking interesting)
26th - His Angel: Time by @ghstyles (I LOVE them)
29th - His Angel: Phantom by @ghstyles (as I said before... I LOVE them)
31st - Cry Baby by @grapejuicebrat (sad, sad, sad, sadddddd)
Couldn't read much this month. This list is so small i know. And yes I'm truly obsessed with @ghstyles and His Angel. I kinda feel guilty for not reading more though lol. Like I read only one fic from @harrywavycurly even though she's written so many brilliant halloweeny fics in October. @gurugirl also posted I think two or three of her patreon fics on here, couldn't read all of them. Then, I read at least two fics from Miss Jaws every month, couldn't do that either.
I know this is a silly reason to feel guilty about but idk I do lmao
@gurugirl: LOTS of goodies this month! F★ck You which is rewritten a bit from the original on Patreon. Incredible! Such good angst!! Then we have Fortune Teller | soulmates which will soothe your soul! And the spooky and sexy Here, kitty kitty 😍There’s even more treats on her Patreon🤩🤩come join the party!!!!! Thank you, Guru for everything that you do🥰!!!
@1d1195: Sam completed Beautiful Enough which is such a lovely story and the last part goes CRAZY !!!!!! Callie came to visit us (me) in the Pucking Rookie - Extra III 😍Oh yeah, there's also rookie and harry but CALLIE !!!!!! And we got My Friend's Toyota Extra I which is straight sweetness !!!! Let me plug in the Masterlist as well as everyone’s monthly reminder to read more of Sam’s work🤩
@harrywavycurly: Sarah FED us this month!!!!! Absolute greatness. For the spooky fics we have: How Bad Do You Want Me?, Alone at Midnight, In The Dark Of Night, All Treats No Tricks AND Whispers On The Water which imo is some of her best work🤩and we will be getting more of them in the future !!!!! ANDDD The Keeper which shook me to my core in the most beautiful and healing ways. AND THEN we got the next part of Fine Print which has my whole heart <3 the last part is coming 🔜 !!!!! AND THENNNN another part to my grumpy x sunshine babes Forgotten 🥰🥰Wow! What an amazing month!!!! We appreciate you, Sarah👏👏👏
@jarofstyles: I loved everything from their Fictober Masterlist !!!! The blurbs are sooooo good and The Teacher has me by the throat🫠🫠😵💫😵💫
@maudie-duan: Demon lovers must know about Gilded Blood 😍😍😍The story started this month and Part 4 is out now so RUNNNNNN🏃♀️🏃♀️🏃♀️The writing is superb👏
@slutstachrry: Aryn gave us the yummiest treat with Have You Ever Tried This One?😍which is part of the Fairway to Heaven universe! A must-read!!!!! Like you must🫵you better !!!!!
@ghstyles: My girl is doing the damn thing with Scrub in !!!!!!!! Scrub in 2 & Part 3 came out this month and this story is everything and more😍🤩She also gave us Alchemy which is smutty with the sweetest ending😌
@harryslittlefreakk: Ella returned with recipe for disaster 2 and YESSSS! JUST YES! GO READ! 🤩🤩
@heartateasee: My lovely Leigh🥰 Traced is spooky and sexy and I’m still thinking about it😮💨😮💨Really enjoyed seeing this darker story from her! I knew she would excel !!!
@watchmegetobsessed: A GLIMPSE OF FOREVER blurb is soooooo good😍
@ellewritesx: NEW SERIES ALERT🚨🚨🚨 velvet & vice AHHHHHHH !!! Mafiarry x stripper!reader and I AM OBSESSED !!! So excited for more😍🙂↕️🙂↔️🙂↕️🙂↔️🙂↕️
@narrycherries: Miss Cherries gave us woman part 9 and part 10 and AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THIS YET?!?!?! GO NOW! I’m on my knees for these two😍😍😍
Here’s a list of fics I’ve read in the past but want to give them a shout out:
@ellewritesx: sugar, baby masterlist This series is sooooooooo good omg😍😍
@this-is-tiny-mia : Sunshine is grumpy x sunshine goodness! Make sure you read this one shot!!!😌
@watchmegetobsessed: WASTED TIME I thought about this one the other day and need to reread! Chef’s kiss🤌
@harryhoney-bee: Delight doctor!harry😍I swear I think about this fic once a week😵💫🥰
@rrysbabydoll: A gem!! I can’t pick just one because everything they write is that good !!!! So check out their masterlist🙂↕️🙂↔️🙂↕️🙂↔️🙂↕️
@moonchildstyles: nest and soft ahhhhhhh a/b/o and then some friends to lovers!!! The best !!!!!🙂↕️🙂↕️
Summary: You hate Harry, and he hates you. One fight turns into hot, reckless sex, and you both swear it’s only going to happen once.
A/n: This was first posted on Patreon in April of last year. It's a 3 part mini series. I'll upload one part each Monday. -- This is rewritten from the original (for any Patreon subscribers who want to reread it, it's the same idea, but reworked slightly). I hope y'all enjoy it! xoxo
Word Count: 5.6k
Warning: smut, size kink, degradation, a palm slap to the face, hurt and angry feelings, accidental exhibitionism, size kink, college au, mentions of marijuana and alcohol use
★★★
Of all the people in the world, it had to be Harry Styles that you were paired up with for the class project. A team of two. Who’d ever heard of two-person team anyway? Maybe if you had another person to be your buffer it wouldn’t have been so bad. So much easier to deal with his menacing eyes and that annoying, cocky attitude.
You hated him but he hated you just the same.
Harry, your ex’s best friend. The bastard who’d helped tear everything apart. Stan had dumped you almost a year ago, but the wound was still fresh because of how it had happened. You’d been blamed for cheating, which was obviously not true. They said you’d been sneaking around with Tommy. Harry was the one who handed Stan the “proof.” Screenshots, clipped and out-of-context texts, a neat little package tied up to make you look bad.
The truth? Tommy had been the one buzzing around you like an annoying fly that wouldn’t stop. It was a constant drip of sleazy jokes, suggestive messages that vanished after a day because he knew how to cover his tracks, cornering you when no one was around just to see if he could push you into giving in to him. He wasn’t even Stan’s close friend. He was just some hanger-on in their circle, but you’d never fed into his bullshit, never gave him what he wanted.
Toward the end, when you caught on to what Tommy was doing, you left the texts unanswered, scrolled past them, pretended they didn’t exist, thinking silence was safer than stirring up drama. But at first? You did respond to a few of his texts. You didn’t know that those responses would somehow be damning proof of anything because you thought you were just being nice.
Your mistake. You hadn’t saved the messages, hadn’t warned Stan, hadn’t done anything but hope Tommy would finally get bored and move on. Instead, Harry twisted the whole story. By the time you realized what was happening, you weren’t the victim, you were the villain. The liar. The cheater. And Stan, hurt and furious, believed every word Harry put in front of him.
Harry raised his long, tattooed arm and sighed in annoyance as Mrs. Caldwell called him, “Yes, Harry.”
“Yeah. Sorry, but I’m not working with her. Switch me out. I’d rather tank this project than be forced to talk to her.”
You rolled your eyes as the teacher balked. “Mr. Styles, with all due respect, this is not negotiable. Teams are set. You will not be switching. If you choose to not work on this project, you’ll fail the class. This isn’t just a grade for a project. This is your capstone, your final. I suggest you swallow your pride and act like the adult you claim to be. You’re about to graduate from university, not kindergarten.”
Something that felt like vindication spread warm in your chest as you ducked your head, stifling a laugh. Served him right. The arrogant prick finally got put in his place.
★★★
Harry’s number was already in your phone, a leftover relic from the Stan days. Every time you pulled it up, thumb hovering over the message box, your stomach turned. He wasn’t going to reach out first, of course he wasn’t. He’d just sit there, smug, waiting for you to cave. Which you hated.
And you did cave. Because you weren’t the type to coast. You liked being ahead of the curve, projects drafted, a direction, something on paper... Harry was the opposite. He was the kind of student who thought “last minute”, as long as it got done, was just fine.
We need to figure out a topic so we have some idea of direction. Thoughts?
Delivered. Read. Ignored. All day. Then the next.
By the time you realized he wasn’t going to bother, you were already outlining the project yourself, typing notes, sketching a framework. Fine. If he wanted to rot, let him. After his tantrum in class, Mrs. Caldwell would believe you over him without a second thought.
A week crawled by and his silence was loud. No texts, no eye contact, nothing but a wall of deliberate indifference. So you sent him one last message. A final olive branch (because you were nice) before you washed your hands of him and let him choke on the consequences. Summer classes, delayed graduation, all of it. Fuck him.
And it came as no surprise when he left you on read. Once again. But it was no sweat off your back. You gave him a couple of chances and you were more than capable of doing the work on your own. So you buckled down, carved hours out of your free time, and built the whole damn project yourself piece by piece, determined that if anyone was failing, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be you.
.
Saturday night you found yourself relaxed on a couch at Ro’s off-campus house, the place that had become your unofficial second home. Her place was always buzzing with something going on. It was a hangout spot and a “halfway house” for lost students. It was warm, a little cluttered, and of course, weed and beer were always within reach. Exactly what you needed after a week of grinding and, more importantly, celebrating the fact that the project was done.
There were usually some faces you didn’t recognize, drifting in and out of the kitchen, sprawled on the floor, laughing too loud. That was normal because Ro and her roommates treated their house like a soft-landing spot for anyone who wanted to crash, smoke, and just chill.
You had just taken a long drag, the joint burning hot in your lungs, when it vanished. One blink and it was gone, plucked clean from your fingers. You straightened, startled, and followed the thief with your eyes.
And there he was.
Harry fucking Styles. Sliding into the sofa across from where you sat, like he owned the place, inked arm draped lazy across the backrest, joint poised between his fingers as if it had always belonged to him. He inhaled slow, lips wrapping around the paper, green eyes fixed on you.
Why the hell was he at Ro’s house?
“What the fuck?” You looked around the living room and back to Harry. No one seemed to notice what had just happened.
“S’my weed. I brought it to share with everyone. But for you? That’ll be $20.”
Now heads turned and conversations quieted. The people who sat watching had no idea there was bad blood between you two. Only Ro knew to some extent, and of course she was nowhere to be found.
You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest as you settled your angry gaze on Harry. “Fine. Keep it. I don’t want your weed anyway. I’ll grab a beer.” You pushed up from the couch, ready to disappear into the kitchen.
But Harry wasn’t done. “No. I meant you owe me twenty. You’ve already smoked half this joint.” He brought it to his lips again, eyes glinting as he took another long drag.
Heat flared through you. “Fuck you.” Your finger stabbed the air toward him like a knife. “You know what? Enjoy that high, because you’re about to fail Caldwell’s class. I finished the project last night, every word of it, and tomorrow she’s going to hear exactly how much you did. Which is nothing. Zero. Which means you don’t graduate.”
A ripple of whispers rose up from your nosy audience now. You couldn’t believe you were arguing with Harry in front of half a dozen near-strangers, airing your dirty laundry like it was printed in a scandal magazine. But so be it.
Harry laughed, a low, mocking sound of disbelief as he shook his head. He leaned forward to stub out the joint in the ashtray, tattoos flexing as he moved. “You wouldn’t. Assignment’s not due for another two and a half weeks. That’s not fair.”
You shrugged and walked away toward the kitchen to grab a beer but Harry was right behind you, slamming the refrigerator door closed just as you’d pulled it open an inch. You turned, Harry’s chest inches from yours, green eyes burning down at you. “You’re not gonna really try and fuck me over me like that, are you?”
You tilted your chin up, lips pulling up in a smirk. “Oh, you fucked yourself over. I’m turning it in Monday. I gave you two chances, Harry. Two. That was more than you deserved.”
Something dark flashed behind his eyes and his mouth tipped in an annoying smirk. “You’re such a fucking brat. Good thing Stan figured you out before he got in too deep. His new girl? So much nicer.” He leaned in just enough for his breath to ghost your ear. “Definitely not like you.”
The jab sliced through you just like he intended it too. But you didn’t flinch, instead, you leaned in closer to him, eyes not wavering from him. “You were jealous. You didn’t like how close Stan and I were. And you know damn well I didn’t cheat. You were probably in on the whole scheme to get us to break up. You couldn’t stand that I had what you wanted.”
His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing, then dipped for a fraction of a second to your mouth. “What I wanted? Jealous?” He let out a humorless chuckle. “You’re delusional.”
You yanked the door open, the force of it making him step back and you grabbed a cold can, cracking it open without breaking eye contact. “You always wanted to believe I cheated. Because hating me is easier than admitting how much I get under your skin.”
For a heartbeat, he didn’t move as you brushed past him. His stare burned into your back as you walked away, shoulders tight, mouth bitter. When you dropped back onto the couch beside Ro, who wordlessly handed you a fresh joint, your pulse was still hammering.
“It’s not Harry’s weed is it?” You asked her just as he walked back toward his spot on the couch, his eyes shooting daggers at you.
“No. This is from last week. The stuff Jerry brought over.”
You smiled smugly and took the joint between your pointer and middle finger and inhaled as you stared at him. You liked that he was so angry because of you.
“Why is Harry here anyway?” You asked her quietly after you passed the joint to someone else.
“I don’t know. Maybe Karl invited him? He’s been hanging out with Harry a bit.” Ro didn’t know the whole story about how much you hated Harry. She only knew you just didn’t like him after you’d broken up with Stan. She heard bits and pieces. Enough to know you two didn’t get along.
When Harry shifted, the couch groaned under his weight as he stood and strode out of the living room wordlessly. You weren’t sure where he’d gone off to but you hoped that maybe he’d finally left. But, of course, you weren’t that lucky because not long after, when you and Ro went to the basement there he was with a dart in one hand, and a beer in the other. He wore a kind of tipsy confidence that left his eyes bloodshot, hazy, and stoned… maybe a mirror of your own. Then he glanced in your direction and cursed under his breath, jaw tightening.
“You know you could just leave if it’s that bad seeing me,” you called out to him, everyone’s attention suddenly on you.
Eyes shot between you and Harry. A modern day duel was about to take place and no one wanted to miss a thing. You hadn’t meant to draw the room into it, but Harry had been grinding at your nerves all night and the words slipped free before you could stop them.
“Or you could just pay me the twenty you owe me and leave yourself.”
You put your hands on your hips and walked up to him, everyone watching you both, “And if I don’t pay you?”
Harry’s jaw clenched as he stared down at you, “Then it wouldn’t shock me. You’ve always had a way of twisting things to suit yourself.” His voice dropped lower, sharp and rough-edged. “Now get out of my space. I don’t wanna even look at you.”
“Then stop staring.” you scoffed, chin tilted up in defiance.
“Hey… you two?” Karl spoke up, “Can you chill out? Kinda fucking up the vibe here.”
You softened your stance and moved away toward a stool next to Ro. The last thing you wanted was to make anyone else uncomfortable. You didn’t care if Harry fumed, he deserved it, but the others didn’t.
Harry pointed at you as he took a dart in hand when it was his turn, “She doesn’t get any of my weed. Make sure she keeps her hands off my shit.”
When he aimed at the board you cackled loudly and he missed the target, dart thunking wide on the board. He turned, eyes sharp on you. As if his bad aim was your fault.
“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna touch your weed asshole.”
His nostrils flared as he stepped toward you, every muscle tight. “For fuck’s sake, will you just shut up?”
You stood, meeting his advance with a scowl, nearly chest to chest now, the air between you practically buzzing. “What? You gonna hit me?”
Karl wedged himself between you two, palms on Harry’s chest as he pushed him back. “Enough. Either take this upstairs and sort it out, or leave. Both of you. No one here signed up for World War Three. Jesus, you’re both insufferable.”
Harry didn’t drag his angry gaze from you as he grabbed his stash of weed and stomped away upstairs. You followed behind him silently as you tried to remember where you’d put your purse. You figured you’d just go. There was no point in staying around any longer. You and Harry weren’t built to exist in the same space.
“The fuck is wrong with you? You really think I'd actually hit you?” he barked as you passed. You ignored him and kept walking. Engaging felt pointless.
“What? You can’t hear me now?” His voice grew louder.
You rolled your eyes as you yanked your purse over your shoulder and then dug around for your keys but before you could find them Harry had his hand closed around your upper arm and he pulled you to the small laundry room at the front of the house. The door clicked behind you.
“You’re gonna talk to me now.” He shoved you against the cold metal of the washing machine, his breath close enough that you could feel it on your skin. ”I don’t like you acting like you didn't do anything wrong. All innocent when you know you're not.”
You wrenched your arm free, your purse thudding to the floor as you leaned back, planting both palms on the machine and sneered up at him. “You're a dick who made up a lie about me. You’ll get what’s coming to you when you can’t graduate this semester.”
Harry’s nostrils flared and he stood over you, a palm on the cold surface of the metal washing machine behind you “Fuck. You. You cheated. You lied. I’m glad Stan isn’t with you anymore.”
Something snapped in you. You slapped him, flat palm, hard… and he staggered back, a surprised, involuntary groan ripping from his throat as he pressed a hand to his cheek. For half a beat he stared at you like you were insane. Maybe you were.
“Did that hurt, pretty boy?” you said, grinning viciously as his hand still hovered where you’d hit him. “I hope it bruises and you have to walk around with a mark on your stupid face knowing that it was me who did it.”
“You put another fucking finger on me and I’ll make you regret it.”
A short laugh escaped you, breath hot, pulse thrumming against your throat. You sized him up… the way his shirt clung, the set of his jaw, and the reckless heat in his gaze. “Then back the fuck off,” you shot back. “Why are you standing over me like you’re gonna fight? I’m half your size, you moron.”
He didn’t move for a second, just watched you as his chest rose and fell. Then he removed his palm from his cheek and caged you in fully, your bottom pressed into the washing machine. Outside of the laundry room you could hear muffled music and laughter. But there was nothing funny about whatever was happening in that room between you and Harry right then. It seared, had your heart racing.
His gaze coasted down your frame and back up to your eyes. “You are half my size. So, if I were you, I’d be careful.”
“Why, cause you’re gonna hurt me? Gonna show me who’s boss?” You called him on his bluff.
“I fucking should. You’re acting like a child.”
“Well, you’ve got me cornered.” You spat, shoving at his chest. Hard muscle resisted under your palms, solid and immovable. “I have no choice but to defend myself. And I’ll do it again if I have to.” You shoved harder this time, both hands braced against him, but before you could get momentum, his hand shot up.
His fingers locked around your jaw, tilting your face toward his. His other hand clamped over your wrists, trapping them against the hard bulk of his chest. The warmth of his skin burned through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Last warning. Don’t touch me again.”
“But your hands are all over me,” your words were smushed from your mouth as he kept his fingers pressed into your face.
That earned you a short laugh, hot breath spilling over your cheek. “All over you? Please. In your fucking dreams.”
“Oh fuck you…” you spat. His face was so close to yours that you could smell the beer on his breath and see the specks of gold in his pretty green eyes. Stupid pretty green eyes.
His gaze dropped to your mouth and lingered. “No. Fuck you.” His voice came out deep, guttural, pulsing with something that wasn’t just rage anymore. It was molten, dangerous, red-hot.
“Fuck you, Harry.”
You didn’t know what had shifted but something happened and the tension between you two in that dark laundry room crackled and sparked until everything around you was aflame. His mouth crashed into yours, teeth clashing, lips bruising. He hauled you up onto the washer, metal groaning beneath your weight. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, pulling, as his hips wedged between your thighs.
You bit his lip, hard, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. His hands roamed, one sliding up, wrapping around the front of your throat, holding you there like you belonged to him.
Everything was fury and molten lava. You grabbed his belt and yanked at it, unfastening, hungry as you felt him slide a hand under your dress and roughly push your thighs further apart.
“What would Stan think,” you gasped against his mouth, “about his best friend doing this to his ex?”
Harry’s laugh came out rough, low in his throat, as he shoved his jeans down just enough to free briefs. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you. No one does.” His words burned, but his body told a different story.
Your eyes dropped, throat tightening when you caught the sizeable lump straining under his briefs. “No one?” you shot back, voice sharp though your pulse was fluttering. “That hard-on says otherwise. Looks pretty damn happy to see me.”
His jaw clenched, but you saw the edge of a smirk on his face, betraying him. He pressed his palm to your mouth, eyes hot. “You don’t know when to shut up, do you?”
You ran your tongue against his palm, smirking under his hand, words muffled nonsense as his fingers slid under the lace of your panties where he learned you were wet. A wicked, menacing grin pulled at his mouth as he stuffed two fingers through your opening.
“Look at you… Hate me all you want, but you're soaked for me.”
A sharp breath shuddered through you as your walls clenched around his thrusting fingers. His touch was rough, invasive, but every drag of his fingers had your hips shifting helplessly.
And then he shoved his briefs down past his hips, cock springing free, thick and heavy, making your eyes widen before you could stop yourself. You’d wanted something to mock, something to cut him down with, but there was nothing laughable about him.
He caught your stare, smirk quirking up. Pulling his hand from your mouth, he gripped your hip hard enough to bruise. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?”
You rolled your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Doesn’t mean you know what the fuck you’re doing. Bet you don't know how to get a woman off.”
There was a flash of wicked satisfaction across his face as he pulled his fingers free, snagging your panties to the side. “Oh yeah?” he snarled a laugh, rough in his throat. “I’ll make you come, and you’ll have to live with it. That the guy you hate most made you lose it harder than anyone else ever has. So you better enjoy it ‘cause this is all you’ll ever get.”
You reached down, fingers wrapping tight around the root of him, giving him a slow, taunting pull. “Enjoy it? You sure talk a big game for someone with such a tiny brain.”
His gaze dropped, dark and hungry, to where your hand gripped his shaft. He let you guide him, fingers tight around him, sliding the tip against your pussy, painting it through your folds before angling him back against your hole.
You bit down on your lip hard the moment he pressed his cockhead through your wet opening, your muscle stretching and straining wide for him. It was a lot.
He hissed through his teeth as he watched your pussy struggle to swallow him. “You can’t even take me. Figures you act all tough but now here you are whining because it’s too much.”
You grit your teeth, rolling your eyes, defiant even as your body trembled around him. Planting your feet on the washer’s edge, you forced yourself down onto him, inch by inch, jaw tight. “Idiot. You’re not that big.”
But it was a lie, and you both knew it. Every push was a struggle, your cunt clenching, spreading to fit him, sweat dampening your hairline. Harry stood still, smirk painted across his face, drinking in the sight of you fucking yourself down on him.
“Desperate, too,” he groaned, voice a low rasp. “Can hardly get it in, but you’re so needy you’ll wreck yourself trying. If you’d just let me do it we could already be nearly done here.”
“You’re such a dick.” You reached a hand up to his shoulder for leverage, fingernails digging crescents into his skin.
His lips twitched, amused as his tongue swept over them slow. “I am. Big one, too.”
It almost made you laugh. Almost. But you kept a look of disdain on your face as you worked yourself over him. Until he had had enough of your antics and dug his fingers into your hips to hold you still and drove himself in until he was buried inside you, hips flush with yours.
The strangled cry that ripped from you, betrayed your tough act, high and guttural, your nails scraping down his arm.
“That’s more like it. Now let’s finish what you started.”
Your mouth was wide open as you set your eyes on his and he began to fuck into you. At first, he was doing you a favor by slowly stretching you open. His length split you apart with every inch he pressed in until he reared back to his tip, only to fuck himself back into the hilt making you inhale sharply through your teeth.
The sound was slick and wet as he grunted with every thrust, your own gasps breathy and involuntarily pitched up a notch too high. He kept his eyes pinned to yours and you tried your hardest not to show any sign of pleasure on your face but it was impossible when you kept parting your lips to let out a moan. You clung to his arms, muscle and ink under your grip, desperate not to topple backward as each stroke rocked through you.
But his composure was just as thin. He tried to play it cool, jaw set, but the urgent guttural noises he made, and his aching hard cock twitching deep inside you, gave him away.
“Jesus that’s weak. Is that all you got?” You taunted.
Harry swallowed thickly, stilling his hips with his cock seated deep inside you. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He shoved at your shoulder until you leaned back, propping on your elbows, body bared open for him. Grabbing your left leg, he pressed your foot against his chest, his palm locking around your thigh. Then, without hesitation, he drove into you in one brutal thrust, his cockhead slamming against your cervix.
The gasp that ripped from your lungs was raw, punched out of you before you could bite it back.
He did it again and again until he’d gotten momentum and he was pounding into you, his cock coated thick in your arousal. His hips snapped against yours, cock sliding slick and heavy through your walls, each stroke wetter, filthier, your body betraying how much you wanted it.
Your face scrunched, torn between pleasure and pain, every nerve alight. He wasn’t gentle, not with his fat shaft splitting you apart, not with the way his tip bullied past resistance over and over.
With the way he was gripping your right hip and keeping hold of your left thigh you weren’t able to wiggle much as he drilled into you. He was panting, pink lips falling open, gaze dropping to where his cock disappeared inside you, glistening with your arousal.
“Fuck…” he grunted and shot his gaze up to your eyes and then back down to the dirty scene where his bare cock was destroying the pretty pussy of the girl he hated more than anyone.
The truth was that he’d always thought you were way hotter than you deserved to be. A brat. A liar. He’d convinced himself you were trash. Snobby, fake, guilty of screwing around on his best friend. He’d believed the screenshots because he wanted to believe them. Wanted an excuse to hate the way your laugh pulled attention, the way your lashes batted when Tommy leaned too close at parties.
And now, with you clenched tight around him, the lie and the hate blurred until all that was left was raw, consuming lust.
Harry snapped his hips harder, faster, making the washer slam against the wall with every thrust. His heavy balls slapped against you, the sound dirty and brutal, and the cry that tore out of your throat was nothing like disdain, rather, it was desperate, broken, aching.
“Oh my god… oh fuck...” you tried to swallow the sounds, biting them back, but Harry’s cock drove through you mercilessly, punishing, deep, every thrust stealing another ragged moan. His muscles were tight and he kept going, unrelenting, until his own groan cracked loose from his throat.
You drew your fingers down, slid them over your clit, and circled fast, your head tipping back. The rush of it was dizzying. Letting him split you open in the laundry room of your friend’s house, of all places. You hated him for this. Hated him for ruining Stan, for turning friends against you, for branding you a liar. For humiliating you. And now here you were, whimpering for him, body betraying the truth you’d never give him out loud.
“That’s it,” he rasped, eyes locked on you as his hips slammed forward. “Knew you’d like it. Gonna hate yourself after this for how much you love this cock.” His words came out shaky, something between tight and breathy. The man was enjoying it too.
His words vibrated through you, and you snapped back, breath catching between thrusts. “Just like you’re gonna hate… yourself for fucking me. For…” a moan tore free, “…your dick getting hard because you couldn’t resist… fuck!” You moaned and continued as you brought your gaze back up to his, “Dragged me in here… so you could finally feel me… bet you’ve been… gagging for it all this time.”
His precise, brutal pounding turned into sloppy, deep thrusts as he dropped his head down and kept his eyes on yours, pupils blown out, pink lips parted, “Fuck you, Y/n.”
“Fuck you, Harry.”
You felt that slippery tingle wind over your limbs, over your thighs, and through your belly as you circled your clit, your fingertips grazing his thick cock as he dragged in and out, strings of slick sticking to his base and your cunt every time he parted his hips from yours just before plunging back in.
He let go of your hip, hand coming up to grab your jaw, and forced your mouth open as his cock drove deeper. His stare burned into yours, before he spit straight into your mouth.
You groaned, shocked, instinct screaming to spit it back, but his lips crashed into yours, tongue shoving in, sealing it. You had no choice but to swallow as he kissed you like a man starved, and the humiliation twisted into pure heat. And that was it for you. Your orgasm hit hard, tearing through you, your cunt clenching around him in desperate, pulsing waves.
Your moans poured into his mouth as he kissed you hard, fucking you through it, hips never slowing, cock dragging every tremor from your body. His own voice broke, moaning into you, raw and guttural, as he felt you clamp down around him.
Harry fucked you through every second of it, long messy strokes, leaving you wrecked, branded, exactly like he promised. He was making sure you’d have something to remember him by.
The minute your body stopped fluttering around him and your tremors eased, Harry dragged himself out of you, fist clamping around his slick cock. Before you could even register the loss he pulled you off the washer and guided you down onto your knees. He grabbed the back of your head, fist furiously pumping himself, cockhead slipping against your lips, and then, held you still, and pressed himself past your lips. The heavy weight of him filled your throat as hot spurts of release hit your tongue.
You sputtered, swallowing around him as he groaned above you, a sound that was all relief and ruin, cock throbbing against the back of your mouth while his heartbeat thundered under his skin.
Harry drew away from you silently when he’d emptied himself down your throat and put himself back into his underwear, fixing his pants up. But you could see that his chest was heaving, his face was flushed, his eyes glistening.
You used the washer to pull yourself upright on shaky legs, wiping your mouth and tugging your ruined panties back into place. One shoe was gone, maybe he’d pulled it off, or maybe it had just fallen, you couldn’t even remember.
He gave you a quick once over before he spoke. “That was worth about twenty bucks,” he said hoarsely. “No need to pay me for the weed. Call it even.” And just like that he opened the laundry room door and walked out.
You scoffed but your throat was too scratchy to talk back.
A few deep breaths later you hobbled to grab your purse and you saw Ro standing at the door with her arms over her chest, “Really? Was that necessary?”
“What? Could you… did you guys…” Your stomach dropped.
“Yes. We heard everything. Every word, every noise. The laundry room has a big open vent that leads down to the basement. Jesus, Y/n.”
You were stunned as you covered your face and blinked down toward the floor, “I’m so sorry…”
“Well, at least this means you don’t hate each other anymore.”
If only. She hadn’t heard everything. Not the spit, not the way his words still cut, or the things you'd said back to him. You still hated him. Hated him more, in a way, because now you knew you’d be thinking about him long after tonight… about his hands at your throat, his body against yours, his cock splitting you open. A man you’d tried to forget now burned into your memory.
But at least you knew that it was probably the same for him. He was probably kicking himself for letting it get that far. Probably wishing his cock hadn’t gotten so hard at the sight of you, wishing he hadn’t shown you that you were a weakness he couldn’t control.
You could walk away from it knowing you were both on the same page. That it had been unforgettable but that you’d rather gouge your eyes out than breathe the same air as one another ever again.
And at least you had one final blow, something that gave you the upper hand in the end. That he’d fail the class when you turned in the final project. That he’d be unable to graduate with you and that felt like the kind of vengeance that was justified for someone like him.
With that in mind, you removed your hands from your face to look at Ro, “No. I still hate him. Fuck Harry Styles.”
part 2 >>
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Don't Feed the Plants - A Harry Styles Spooky One Shot
Masterlist
Summary: Inspired by "Little Shop of Horrors"- Audrey worked at a flower shop with her crush, Harry Styles. Harry was in an unhealthy relationship and Audrey wished he would notice her. What would she do when one of the plants promised everything she could want, including Harry himself, in exchange for something sticky, sweet, and red?
11.5k words
A/N: i tried a lot of new things here, first oc, different tense, so i hope it reads well. also, once again, no one told me to shut up so this ended up longer than i intended, i'm sorry.
C/W: blood, murder, death, abusive relationship dynamics, assault, manipulation, consumption of humans, grief, dubcon-ish (not smut), mentions of chopping people up, brief implications of suicide, and mean green mothers from outer space who are bad
The bell above the door jingled, signaling a new customer walking in. Audrey was buried in buckets of hydrangeas and peonies, trying to find the exact color flower to compliment Mrs. Norris’ bouquet so she’s unable to see who had entered the flower shop. Calling out amongst the petals, she greeted the stranger, “Welcome to Mushnik’s Flower Shop, I’ll be with you in just a moment.”
“Take your time, Audrey,” the familiar voice reassured her, its calming tone only startling her more. She struggled to get up, grabbing onto one of the buckets to help push herself up, but the bucket tipped over, spilling water and tulips all around, causing Audrey to slip, landing ungracefully onto her back. Her pretty yellow dress was now soaked in dirty flower water, some of the tulips were crushed underneath her, and, worst of all, her co-worker, Harry, comes racing to the back to find out what all the commotion was. It was supposed to be his day off, which was why his voice had spooked her, not expecting the man she's been quietly crushing on for months to come in.
“Shit, are you okay?” he asked, stepping over the scattered flowers, making sure he didn't ruin any more of Mr. Mushnik's goods. Audrey watched him approach her, her heart swelled at the care he showed, even to the plants that she'd carelessly discarded on the floor in her clumsy stumbling. It's not until he's stood above her, holding out his hand to help her up, that she realized she’d been silently watching him with heart-shaped eyes like some kind of obsessive creep.
Gathering up the dwindling remains of her dignity, Audrey grabbed his hand, ignoring the flutters of her heart. “Ugh, I’m okay,” she answered, standing up with his help. “Thanks.” Audrey looked around at the mess she made, sighing at the additional work she piled onto her day. She started to pick up the scattered flowers when Harry's fingers brush against hers, reaching for the same yellow tulip, helping clean up the mess of scraps she caused.
Time stood still as Audrey’s eyes met Harry’s, the spark between them freezing everything. These pockets of time they occasionally fell into were the best parts of Audrey’s day. Lost in the maze of Harry’s moss-colored eyes, being lured into a fantasy of the life they could have together.
Their own home, painted baby blue, a white picket fence to protect the garden, and two kids with green eyes that shimmer like Harry’s. Audrey could still work at the flower shop, maybe take it over from Mr. Mushnik, and Harry would finish up his degree and become some important business person like she figured he wanted. They would grow old together, watching reruns of Friends, living inside a paradise of plants and books that Audrey would carve out for the two of them. It could be perfect.
“What’s taking so long?” a voice demanded, accented with the clipping of heels on the tile flooring. Yanking his hand away, Harry jumped back up to a standing position, taking a few steps away from Audrey. Harry’s girlfriend, Tiffany, appears, arms crossed over her chest, her permanent scowl aimed at both Audrey and Harry. “Har-bear, I have to get to the office for Mr. Rosenbaum’s cavity filling and you’re my ride. Hurry up.” She snapped her fingers at him, expecting him to respond.
Audrey never liked Tiffany. It wasn’t the strong perfume that overpowered the shop, or the expensive jewelry she flashed, but the horrific way she treated Harry. Once, Harry came into the shop with his left eye swollen and bruised but he dismissed it, mumbling about some accident but never delving further. But Audrey knew. She knew what he was hiding, who he was protecting.
“H-hi Tiffany,” Audrey stumbled through her greeting as she struggled to stand up, careful to not slip on the water and tumble back down again.
“Oh, it speaks?” Tiffany said, an excited lift in her voice, like when a dog performs a trick on cue.
“Tiffany.” Harry scolded her. Audrey’s heart swelled hearing Harry defend her, conquering his fear of his frightful girlfriend to protect her.
“I’m joking,” she defended herself, a vicious smile overtaking her mouth, her lips curling back like a predator about to strike. “Aubrey gets it, right? She knows I’m joking.” Tiffany’s gaze pierced into Audrey’s chest, daring the drenched woman to dispute her claim.
“Ye-yeah,” Audrey agreed quickly, hoping her rapid response would force Tiffany’s ire off her. She had long given up on correcting Tiffany’s misnaming.
A loud thump caught all of their attention. Tiffany screeched performatively, bouncing in her spot and waving her hands wildly. Audrey rushed out the back, steering clear of Tiffany’s flapping hands to investigate the source of the sound, a nervous inkling of what, or rather, who, could be the cause.
Displayed before the front window, a giant sign with an arrow pointing right at it, sits a bulbous plant, the green head bowed to the ground, its crown of leaves that adorned its stem now drooped in despair. The plant looked dehydrated, a grayish pallor overwhelming its bright hues, the seam that ran up the bud paled from a rosy red into a muted pink. Clear signs of thirst in most flora, but the depressed bulb wasn't fooling Audrey.
“What's wrong with Audrey II?” Harry asked, peering around Audrey to look at the toppled plant. He walked over to the bent head, pinching one of the dry leaves. “When’s the last time you watered her?”
“Uh, this morning,” Audrey supplied, fingering the bandages that adorn her slit fingers. Her pulse beat underneath the fresh cuts, as if tempted by the proximity to the plant. “They um,” she cleared her throat, weary of Harry standing so close to the vegetation, “they had a big drink this morning.”
“That’s odd.” Harry knelt down, patting the top of their head. “What’s going on with you, Audrey II?” he asked the plant, pausing for an answer, not that he had any real expectations of it doing so.
Tiffany came up behind Audrey, scoffing. “Audrey II? Do you have to, like, name every blade of grass or do you just like naming plants after girls you’re not dating?”
Admittedly, Harry had suggested naming the plant pod after Audrey. He said it was meant to honor her and her discovery of a potential new species. Audrey, of course, couldn’t stop her brain from making red stringed conspiracies about other reasons he wanted to name the plant after her. That was before she knew what the thing was.
“Tiff, you told me you would hate to have a plant named after you because they die so quickly.”
“So you remember that but not the fact I hate that nickname? Forget it, I’m taking the bus.” Tiffany’s shoulder knocked Audrey into the retail counter, her hip catching the edge harsh enough to form a bruise. Ignorant to the injury she dealt, Tiffany stormed past, heading for the door.
“C’mon, Tiffany,” Harry trailed after his girlfriend, pausing to turn back to Audrey. “I’m sorry, if I don’t go after her, she’ll make me sleep on the street for a month.” There’s a playfulness to his tone, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, as if he could only partly commit to the lie. For a moment, Audrey worried just how real the threat was. “Try not to knock over anymore buckets,” he joked, dropping his eye into a wink before heading out the door, the bell ringing a more melancholic tune this time.
Audrey had to stop herself from following after him, from making a fool of herself by making some elaborate declaration of her profound admiration of him, of his unlimited kindness, of his gentle nature, of his pure heart. To convince him that, even if he didn’t like her, that he could be doing so much better than Tiffany, that any other person would be so lucky as to experience his affection, his generosity. The scene she’s directing in her head, a light pelt of rain added in for effect, was interrupted by a deep humming sound, patterned like a laugh emitting from the corner where Audrey II sits. A chill runs up her spine, unusual for the humid store, and she slowly turns to look at the pod when the bell rings again, distracting her.
“Welcome to Mushnik’s Flower Shop,” she greeted, a warm smile on her face, the practiced slogan came easy as the plant in the corner quieted their giggling.
Escorting out the final customer of the day, a bushel of bluebells tucked in their arms, Audrey shut the door, and closed down the store. The neon lights stuttered off, the blinds collapsed over the glass windows, and Audrey settled on top of the stool beside the cash register, counting the profits from the day, now left alone in the store. Or… mostly alone.
“FeeEEEEeeed meeEEee…”
That haunting voice, the deep bass that shivered down her spine, called to her from the corner of the room. The plant sang their hypnotizing melody to lure Audrey in. The only saving grace was that she's so lightheaded from previous feedings, she couldn't even stand up to go to them. But that doesn't stop the persistent plant.
“FEEEEEED MEEEEEEE,” they demanded. Audrey turned to face Audrey II, the bulbous head still bent over dramatically, their leaves yellowing at the edges. The decay would be alleviated if only she gave in to their request. It appeared innocent enough, the withered plant asking for food. Yet knowing the truth of it all, knowing what they were asking for, Audrey was less comfortable giving up any more of her blood, no matter what deal the plant offered.
That's how it all started. A promise of saving the shop in exchange for a few drops of blood. It was an easy decision, then. Audrey was practically raised by Mr. Mushnik, and ensuring his shop didn't close down while he was in the hospital was the least she could do. Especially since it was her clumsiness that sent him there, the memory of the flower pots dropping atop his head like in some awful slapstick routine permanently seared in her brain. So with a prick of her finger, the deal was made. Customers were attracted by the new exotic plant, coming into the shop to exclaim about the alluring new attraction, and while they're here, they might as well buy some flowers.
The pod grew, the tiny little bud barely bigger than her thumb now as tall as Harry. They attracted more customers, but they also grew hungrier.
Audrey’s finger wasn’t enough to satiate the growing bulb, now she was forcing open her old wounds and letting the creature suckle on her fingers like a babe to its mother’s breast. Except, Audrey wasn’t harboring maternal feelings for the green parasite. It was strictly a business exchange between them, one that Audrey regretted more each day.
“I’m exhausted, Dooey,” Audrey tried to reason with the plant. The nickname came around after the first feeding, offering some degree of separation from herself and the blood-sucking creature. “I can’t feed you anymore.”
“I’m staaaarving,” they complained, lifting their head up off the ground, giving up on their dehydration facade. Audrey II looked at Audrey, or at least pointed the tip of the bud in her direction. The pink seam that looped around their head opened up to expose a purple mouth rimmed with yellow thorn-like teeth, Dooey vocalizing one long, low note. “AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”
“Stop it!”
“Then feeeed meeee!”
“I can’t!” Audrey argued back. “I have nothing left to give, Dooey. Do you want me to die?”
Audrey II scoffed a sigh, not really offering an answer, which concerned Audrey.
“What do you expect? You’re literally bleeding me dry, you refuse to eat meat-”
“Must be blooooood.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Must be freeesssshhhhh.”
“I don’t want to hear this!” Audrey exclaimed, covering her ears with her hands. It wouldn’t block out the mesmerizing song the plant sang but it gave Audrey some sense of control, a front of perseverance to cower behind.
“Wonder if that BOOOOYY would give in? That pretty one with eyes as green as me.” Audrey spun on her chair to stare aghast at the sentient bud. They took note of this, humming satisfactorily. “Such soft haaaands too. Wonder what the rest of him feels like, hmmm?” They brought an aerial root up, brushing the green stem over their head where Harry had patted them earlier that day, snickering to themselves.
“NO!” Audrey shrieked, tumbling off the stool. Her foot was still wrapped in the supporting dowels so the chair toppled over, the wooden seat knocking into her ankle before crashing loudly against the tile flooring. Falling to her knees in front of Audrey II, hands clasped as if in prayer, she ignored the throbbing pain in her leg and begged. “Not him, not Harry. I’ll do anything, but not him!”
“Feeeeeed meeeee?” Their voice lost all traces of danger, the manipulation morphing into a plea, disguising their intent behind innocuous hunger.
Audrey started ripping off her bandages, picking at the wounds that haven’t yet healed over, scratching at the raw skin, hoping a single bead would pop up but Audrey II’s vines reached up, tugging Audrey’s hands apart.
“You like this boy?” Audrey gave her head a slow shake. “You want him for yourself?”
“More than anything.”
“I can give him to you.”
For a moment, she considered the plant’s offer while they hummed their sensual tune into her ear. Harry, the life she’s envisioned for them, the kids she wanted to give him, the home they would build together, it could all come true, it could all start now. She’s been patient long enough, and, surely, Harry was sick of Tiffany’s treatment. Maybe he just needed a push to get out of that relationship. Could this plant actually remove Harry from Tiffany’s manicured grip, break the spell suspended above him, and place him in Audrey’s warm, safe arms, where he belonged? Could he finally be hers?
A sliver of reality seeped in the cracks of her dreams, breaking her out of the Harry themed fantasy to remind her that there was a cost, a price to pay for her desires. And if her blood was already drying up, if she couldn’t meet the plant’s requirements, then she’d never have Harry.
“Wh-what… what w-would it take?” Audrey’s voice wobbled uncertainly, scared to hear their response.
“Bloooooooooood.” The only possible answer.
“And if I don’t have any more?”
“Then you’ll have to get it… elsewhere,” Audrey II instructed, a fiendish smirk and a deep chuckle heightening the threat.
Looking at the plant bulb, terror bristles up her spine, the implication clear. “You-you want- oh my god, you- you can’t be- you mean-” but all her protests stopped when a piercing but recognizable scream from across the street interrupted her. Grabbing onto the counter edge to help pull herself up, Audrey limped over to the windows, pulling back a corner of the window blinds, peeking out at the commotion.
Across the way, Tiffany stomped her feet, her finger stabbing into Harry’s chest repeatedly. Individual words are impossible to make out, but from her tone, Audrey could tell she’s upset about something. Harry stepped away from Tiffany’s piercing touch but she followed after him to make sure he couldn’t escape from her tirade. Audrey could make out the words “fucking disappointment” before she watched Tiffany grab a bag of fast food from the gutter, throwing the waste at Harry, then storming off, each step pounding loudly. Her heels clipped sharply against the concrete, the sound fading as she left.
Harry delicately peeled the lettuce leaf off his shirt, the mustard clinging to the fabric in thick globules. From the window, Audrey continued to peer upon Harry, spying his little sniffle, the quick wipe of his eyes, then his reluctant return to his apartment building, cleaning burger sauce off his face with one of the napkins that landed on his shoulder.
An unnamable fury rose inside of Audrey, a rage that couldn’t be contained, one that she couldn’t ignore any longer. The idea, heinous and terrible, rooted itself inside her brain. Any doubt she had faded as Audrey II laughed, low and long and loud.
“Got anyone in mind? Hmmmmm?”
“What’s with all the newspapers on the ground?” Tiffany’s clicking heels are muffled with the thick layer of paper layered all over Audrey’s basement converted bedroom. It had taken several newspapers to coat her floor, stealing several editions from around the street in the early morning, stalking the prepubescent newsboy on his rounds. Several versions of the same comic stare up at Tiffany, Calvin repeatedly performing a lobotomy on a pumpkin, stabbing the gourd over and over again.
“Um… insulation? It can get um quite um cold sometimes,” Audrey stuttered through her excuse. She’s still reeling from the unbelievable luck she stumbled into when planning this whole thing.
Before Audrey II first started bringing in customers, Mr. Mushnik thought it would be good promotion to advertise deadly exotic plants, things like hemlock and nightshade, but they didn’t attract attention quite like the big bulb upstairs. Unwilling to admit a business mistake like that, Mr. Mushnik simply hid the lethal flora in the back.
After plucking a few berries, Audrey discovered that if she mashed them up, they appeared no different than common, nonlethal blackberries, especially when they were baked in a flaky pie crust.
Then the only hurdle left to cross was how to convince Tiffany to eat the pie. Luckily, Audrey caught Tiffany that evening, nervously pacing near Harry’s apartment building, her fingers twining around her T-shaped pendant necklace anxiously. Somehow, with the promise of food and a listening ear, Audrey successfully snuck Tiffany into the shop’s basement.
Tiffany’s disgust was plain on her face as she glanced around the room with newfound repugnance, eyeballing the water stained walls and the exposed pipes more critically. “And you live like this? By choice?”
Audrey shrugged, well accustomed to the chilly winters and blistering summers, the mold that regrew every wet spring and the street level window that tinted more brown than orange during autumn’s decaying shift. “It’s not s-so bad,” she defended. “At lea-least I don’t have to p-pay rent, right?”
Snickering at the joke, Tiffany sighed. “Lucky you. I’d have to do some unseemly things to my landlord if I didn’t want to pay rent. I’ve considered it, but I know Harry would have problems with it. And like, he says he’s so sorry that I have to keep paying rent just because he doesn’t want to move in together, but then he tries to control how I pay my rent? Like, either help out or keep quiet, y’know?”
Maintaining her silence, Audrey’s eyebrows raised as Tiffany goes off, lamenting about the various ways Harry disappointed her. Harry’s lack of funds compared to her hefty paychecks, how she hates covering both of their tabs when they go out, the embarrassment she felt when her friends brag about reaching the next milestone in their relationships while hers remained stagnant. She vented about his busy schedule and how it conflicted with hers, how much time he spent studying for his college courses instead of spending time with her. Tiffany was restless in the cramped space, shuffling the newspaper underneath her feet as she droned on about Harry’s failings. Audrey had to crawl atop her bed in order to keep out of Tiffany’s way.
Between Tiffany’s relentless pacing, her distressed voice grating on Audrey’s ears, and the uneaten deadly pie chilling on her tiny table, Audrey’s anxiety evolved into a more vicious dread. The longer Tiffany remained alive, the more Audrey regretted letting her most sadistic desires consume her. How did she ever let herself believe she could kill someone, that she could take a life? How could she let herself be corrupted by a plant? Was saving Harry worth the death of another?
“And I don’t buy that excuse when it comes to Audrey II. Am I interested in being named after a plant, of course not. But to name it after someone else, that’s just disrespectful, right?” Audrey hummed in agreement, stuck in the confounding maze of morality and mortality. “Are men really so dense as to think we can’t get our feelings hurt? Like, I wouldn’t be bothered about my boyfriend naming a plant after someone else?” Still not paying attention to what she’s saying, Audrey simply nodded, trapped within her ethical complex. “Who is Audrey anyway? Isn’t it suspicious I’ve never met her?”
Guilt clenched Audrey’s chest, her lungs tightening as she struggled to breath. Her thoughts are a whirlpool of remorse, and as she sinks lower, those thoughts darken until she couldn't see straight. Clawing at her mind for some relief, looking for some purchase to lift herself out of the suffocating swirl of despair, Audrey gasped for a breath right as a hand lashed across her face. The contact knocked her head aside, the momentum carrying her down to the ground, her hands rubbing raw against the concrete.
“Are you even paying attention?!” Tiffany shrieked at Audrey, towering above her, fury roiling around her like a tumultuous cloud. “Oh my God, why does everyone act like such selfish assholes all the time? Do me a favor and leave me alone!”
Attempting to pick herself back up, Audrey scrambled after Tiffany, her head swiveling between Tiffany's swiftly departing body and the uneaten fatal dessert. “W-w-wait! Wait, don't go!” she yelled. Whether to apologize or to complete the deed, she's not sure why she's chasing after her, Audrey just knew she had to stop Tiffany from leaving.
“Did you not hear me? Stay away from me!” Tiffany threw over her shoulder, already halfway up the stairs. “And stay away from Harry too!”
Audrey froze, those words tilting her axis and she had to grab the stair railing to keep herself upright. “What?” she whimpered, willing her legs to keep moving, to keep chasing after Tiffany. What did Harry have to do with this? Why was she threatening to take away Audrey's only source of happiness, the one man to show her unconditional kindness, the love of Audrey's life?
Tiffany was at the top of the stairs, hand on the doorknob when she spun to look down at Audrey with disgust dripping from her voice despite the proud smirk pinching at her lips. “You think I don't know about your pathetic little crush on him? That Harry doesn't know?”
Gasping like a fish out of water, Audrey was unable to defend herself, to disagree, to argue that that shouldn't mean she had to stay away from him. She couldn't find it within herself to fight back when she knew Tiffany was right. Subtlety was too complicated, she knew her emotions were too easy to read, of course Harry would know about her feelings. And if he knew, then he would've acted on them if he felt the same, right? He chose to be with Tiffany, shouldn't she honor that? Killing his girlfriend wouldn't suddenly make him like her.
“You really think Harry would waste his time with someone like you?” Tiffany sneered. Her head ticked to the side, sensing the open wound. Taking slow confident steps towards Audrey, a predator stalking towards its prey, Tiffany’s grin grew with each vicious word. “Y’know that stupid look you get when staring at him, drooling like one of those disgusting dogs? We always laugh at how creepy it is. ‘Yes, Harry, of course, Harry, anything you say, Harry.’ Do you have any opinions of your own or do you just nod that empty head of yours whenever Harry says something? He doesn’t want to date some vapid idiot who only agrees with him. Harry wants someone who will fight back.”
A memory flashed in Audrey's mind, that day Harry came in with a black eye, angling his head away trying to keep it hidden, an embarrassed flush on his cheek whenever Audrey asked him if he was okay. Faintly, she could hear the deep rumbling of a familiar humming.
“Harry doesn't want some meek little girl. He wants a strong woman who can take care of herself.”
Another memory, of the hamburger bag she threw, the leftover food stuck to Harry's body as he shamefully slumped back to his apartment, accompanied by the music that started to build louder.
“What do you think you can give him that I can't?”
“I would treat him better than you,” Audrey mumbled, her nails digging into her palms.
“Wh-wh-what was that?” Tiffany mocks, now one step above Audrey, still looking down on her. “You can't even speak without st-st-stuttering your way through it. Harry would never waste his time on a nobody like you.”
Audrey realized that this was what she does to Harry, this was the same abuse he suffered through. She honed in on an insecurity, picked at the wound until it bled, then filled the injury with salty lies. Because Audrey knew, without a doubt, that Harry didn't think so little of her. That Harry would stay late after his shift while he worked on his coursework because he found her presence comforting. That Harry's eyes didn't sparkle with affection when he looked at Tiffany, the way they do when Audrey caught his gaze over a customer’s bouquet of flowers. That his beautiful smile that shines brighter than the grow lights, dimples creasing on both sides, was reserved only for those moments between the two of them, no persistent customers, no annoying girlfriend, no overbearing boss, just those moments where Audrey could pretend her fantasies could exist outside her mind, as well.
That's why, when Tiffany turned around, the music reached its crescendo, and Audrey grabbed her ponytail and tugged.
With her head being pulled back, Tiffany's heel slipped backward, off the wooden step, her whole body slipping down at the loss of balance. Audrey sidestepped her falling body, moving in time to miss Tiffany's flailing hands. Her body upended over her head and her neck bent with a loud crunch as it snapped against the stair. She continued rolling down the steps, her body curling into a chunky ball of broken bones and bruised skin before landing with a thud on the ground, one of her heels sliding underneath Audrey’s bed.
It’s quiet in the damp room, the melody from the floor above now muted.
Breathing evenly, Audrey stared down at the body, void of any feelings. She waits, expecting Tiffany to stand up, the undead demon to rise again. But she remains stiff, unmoving. The monster was no demon, just a regular human.
Walking down the steps, reality settled in, dragging Audrey’s body down until she had to sit down on the stairs, letting out a gasping whimper of despair at Tiffany's motionless body. One of her rings snapped during the tumble, her shirt had ripped on one of the loose nails, and the look of terror forever etched on her face stared off at the now useless pie due to the unnatural angle her head had fallen.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Oh my God, what did I do? Oh fuck, what did I do?! What am I going to do, what the fuck am I going to do now?!”
Upstairs, a low chuckle answers, arcing up into a bellowing laugh. “I guess it's suppertiiiime. Now get to chopping, I don't like to choke on my meals. HA HA HA HA HA!”
“We’re investigating the disappearance of one Tiffany Martin. Her boyfriend claims she was supposed to come over last night after an argument they had the night before but she never showed up. When’s the last time you saw her?” Officer Menken questioned, his attention entirely absorbed by his notebook filled with kitten doodles.
Audrey kept a watchful eye on Audrey II, the bud upright and brightly colored, a pleasant flowery aroma emitting from the thick head. Even at their full height, Audrey could spot the curl of a smile edging at the seam. Picking nervously at the dry skin, her hands are cracked from how long she spent washing them after… after last night.
The sick crunch of Tiffany's bones echo in her brain, the thick blood painting Dooey’s lips the same dark red as Tiffany’s lipstick, wiping the excess off with their roots and dabbing at their mouth with their leaves like a napkin. When they burped back into Audrey's face, she thought she'd pass out from the disgusting smell of Tiffany's tobacco and vanilla scented perfume combined with raw meat.
“Ma’am, when’s the last time you saw Tiffany Martin?” the officer asked again, still enrapt with his cat art, flicking his pen across the paper for long wispy whiskers on his latest creation. Behind him, Officer Howard sniffed a bucket full of lavender suspiciously.
Clearing her throat, Audrey looked at the bored officer. “I-I saw her a few days ago. I um… I saw the fight. That’s the l-last time I saw her.” She looked back over to Audrey II, her eyes widening in horror as she saw Dooey’s roots stretch out, reaching for Officer Howard, whose nose was buried in some chamomile.
“Did you witness her boyfriend getting violent with her?”
“What?” Audrey was taken aback, astounded at the accusation, while keeping an eye on Dooey’s outstretched root, the growth shivering with tension, out of reach of the officer’s leg. “Harry wasn’t violent.”
“Did you witness her boyfriend displaying any threatening behavior or do anything to make her feel unsafe?” Officer Menken droned on, starting to draw a new cat, this one rounder than the last.
“No,” Audrey insisted. “Harry isn’t like that.”
Dooey used their vines to push against the wall, inching their pot closer to the officer shuffling in front of the flower bushels, pinching a daisy between his fingers skeptically.
“Has she ever confided in you about feeling unsafe around-”
“STOP!” she yelled.
Both officers paused their actions, glancing at each other, both raising a brow at her outburst. Dooey's root froze, grazing the cuff of Officer Howard’s pant leg.
“Harry is the kindest person I know, he would never hurt anyone,” Audrey defended, conviction stabilizing her voice. “She was the one displaying violent behavior, she was the one threatening him. She’s not the victim, Harry is.”
Officer Menken considered her words, mulling them over before adding a long swishy tail to his cat. “And you’re sure he’s not likely to snap and just…” Menken dragged his pen across his neck, making a grotesque throat sound as if he was choking.
Audrey’s face scrunched up in anger, annoyed at the implication, upset at the insult to Harry’s character. Staring down the officer with fiery certainty, Audrey says, “Harry would never hurt anyone, ever.”
“Hey!” Officer Howard exclaimed. Assuming Audrey II had captured their prey, Audrey’s mind was overwhelmed with images of a mauled police officer, the picture very clear in her head. “Hey, isn’t this that plant I heard about on the radio? Audrey II, right? God, she’s a beaut.” Officer Howard pats the bud enthusiastically, the sound bouncing around Dooey’s empty mouth in hollow echoes. “How’d you get it so big?”
It’s then that Audrey realized what had been bothering her all morning, besides the overwhelming sense of guilt from her first murder. It was imperceptible at first, but if she looked around the leaves, if she compared them to the sign, Audrey II had grown. The plant had always displayed unusual growth patterns, bulging in size after feedings, but it was more gradual, a new leaf would grow every other week. Now, two new leaves were budding underneath the expanding head, which had grown several inches since the night.
“Do you use some kind of foreign fertilizer?” Officer Howard asked, inspecting Dooey with less scrutiny than he gave the cut flowers, unsuspecting of the large carnivore.
“S-s-something like that.”
“I’m sorry for him,” Officer Menken sighed, shaking his head as he added a top hat to his art. “Well, if you can think of anything that’ll help our search, just give us a call.” He tipped his hat politely, before calling after his partner with minimal interest. When he didn’t move away from the big bulb, Officer Menken pulled Officer Howard away, chastising his partner for his easily distracted mind.
Once they’ve both left the shop, Audrey approached the door, fingers itching to perform their usual patterns of opening up the store, to pretend like there was nothing different about the day, when she saw Harry across the street, sneaking out of his apartment building and into the alleyway beside it. The rational part of her says to stay away, that Harry wouldn’t want to be comforted by his girlfriend’s murderer.
Her heart, on the other hand, tells her this was her opportunity, that this was why she fed his girlfriend to a plant, that he’s now free and she could reap those rewards right now if she followed after him.
From their spot in the corner, Audrey II encouraged her. “Go GET him, girlfrieeend.”
Without a second thought, Audrey raced out of the flower shop, running into the street, almost getting hit by someone who laid in on their car horn, and chasing after Harry into the alley. “Harry! Hey, wait up!”
She watched him pause, halted by her words before he turned to face her, tears cascading down his snotty, blotchy face.
That’s when it truly hits her, this wasn’t a movie scene, this wasn’t a romance novel. Someone was dead. Someone was dead, and now they were being mourned by their loved ones. Someone was dead, and it was all her fault. Until now, she’d been coasting on the deluded belief that this was all a part of living out her dreams, that this was the cost for her wish to come true. But facing Harry, seeing him grieve the woman currently being digested by the alien plant, knowing she caused him this pain, Audrey couldn’t stop the sob that poured out of her. “I’m so sorry.”
Harry’s face scrunched up in agony before he stepped towards her, his arms wrapping tightly around her as he cried into her neck, his breath panting hotly against her neck. Audrey struggled to breath within his hold. Between his hostage-like grip, his curly hair falling into her mouth, and that stupid animalist side of her that’s distracted by his strong arms and the minty smell of his toothpaste, Audrey can’t tell if she’d rather live here forever or die happily in this moment.
“I don’t- I don’t know what I did,” Harry gasped, shaking in Audrey’s arms, his whispered words thunderous against Audrey’s ear. “She wanted to talk, I thought for sure she was going to dump me, but then… then she never…” He sniffled, whimpering into her shoulder. “The police said to expect the worst. That dentists have a high- a high sui-” Harry couldn’t get the word out, the thought of it forced his knees to give out underneath him. He collapsed to the ground and Audrey fell down with him, holding him together in her weak arms.
“It’s not your fault, Harry,” she reassured him, petting his hair, her nails scraping his scalp in soothing motions. “You are not responsible for what happened.” As his cries eased, Audrey’s hand supported Harry’s head, maneuvering him around until she was staring into his water-logged eyes. “And if she was coming over to break up with you, then she’s a fool.”
Harry shut his eyes, a choked sob escaping his chest as Audrey continued. “No, Harry, listen to me. I-I don’t know where Tiffany might be, b-but she’s crazy for not seeing how lucky she is to have you. Whenever she’s mean, you never fight back unless you’re protecting someone else. You go out of your way to brighten the world, offering whatever little bit of help you can give, even when Tiffany is being impatient and rude, you make sure everyone is happy and taken care of. I know you sneak flowers to kids behind Mr. Mushnik’s back, and you always switch out the prettiest flowers from the bouquet Mr. Nelson orders for his mistress with the ugliest ones, and no matter how many times Tiffany tries to douse that light inside of you, you still shine so brightly on those who need it.”
As she went on, Harry’s eyes dried, his sorrow evaporating into a pensive melancholy, hiccupping with a few remaining sniffles. Audrey brushed his hair away from his face, wiped a stray tear from his cheek, and, unable to hold herself back, pressed a tender kiss to his forehead. “She’s never treated you fairly and all I’ve ever wanted for you was to realize that you are worth so much more than what she gave. You are so brilliant,” she complimented, kissing his forehead again, “and kind to everyone,” kissed his right cheek, “and you deserve all the love you give the world tenfold because you are the best, Harry, you are the best person I’ve ever known and you deserve nothing less than that.” The confession, the feelings she’s bottled up for years, flowed out of Audrey, like the release of a dam, pouring forward all at once.
With her secret revealed, Audrey feels that familiar lick of shame, the humiliation of divulging her unrequited feelings, in an alleyway, ten feet away from a dumpster, the day after accidently murdering his girlfriend and chopping her up into consumable pieces for a talking plant. She started to recede into herself, her head curling into her chest, hands dropping from Harry’s face.
“Audrey,” Harry said in a breath, intertwining his hand with hers, leaning his head forward, his nose nudging at her cheek until she looked back up at him. His mouth opened and closed, the words refusing to come out. Edging closer, Harry’s face was a breath away from Audrey’s, her eyes widened at his nearness. Their lips are so close, but then Harry looked aside, something else catching his attention, a stray thought pulling him away from her.
Crazed desperation gripped at Audrey’s heart, unable to watch Harry turn away from her. In a panic, she grabbed his face, pursing her lips and connecting them to Harry’s. He gasped into her mouth but didn’t pull away. Then she felt him press into her, kissing her back, his lips mushed against hers. Audrey wasn’t sure how long she sat on that disgusting alleyway floor, but that didn’t matter when Harry’s soft lips were on hers, his hand squeezing hers in a relaxed but firm grip. She let out a breath, the barest whimper slipping out.
That sound, the little whine, made Harry stop. He shuddered in her arms, his eyes slowly peeling open, taking in his surroundings. When he looked back at Audrey, a range of emotions swirled in his wide eyes. Relief, regret, joy, guilt, and the culmination of everything he’s felt over the past twenty-four hours boiling over until he swallowed thickly. “I have to go,” he mumbled, staggering up to his feet and scrambling out of the alleyway without glancing behind him, rushing into his apartment.
Despite the abrupt exit, Audrey felt like she was heaven. She kissed Harry. She kissed Harry and he kissed her back. He almost kissed her first. Harry Styles nearly kissed her and when she kissed him, he kissed her back! They kissed, they were kissing! Laughter bubbled up from her chest, giddy at the tingling sensation still pricking her lips. Audrey brought a shaking finger up to her lips, careful to not make contact, afraid it would ruin the effect. Closing her eyes, her hand cupped the space where Harry had been, imagining he never walked away. Alone in the alley, she puckered her lips before letting her tongue slither out, lapping at nothing, waggling in the open air. When her tongue dried out, she retracted it back into her mouth, moaning lowly, the sound vibrating in her chest.
Eventually, she broke out of the daydream, the smell of the dumpster and the sound of traffic reminding Audrey of the real world. Using the wall to stand up, Audrey made her way back to the flower shop, spinning in the middle of the street to look back at Harry’s apartment building with a fond grin, then sauntering to the store. The door opened up automatically and Audrey waltzed in, oblivious to the long vine wrapped around the handle. She sat atop her stool, kicking her feet back and forth, resting her head on her hands as she played the memory on a loop in her mind.
“How’d it go?” The pod asked knowingly, already smiling at Audrey’s blissed expression. “Did you get your man?” While she’s distracted, Audrey II’s vine shut the door and flipped the sign, performing her opening duties without her notice.
“He… he kissed me,” Audrey confessed, her cheeks pinching tightly with elation, still reeling from the encounter. “I can’t believe he kissed me back.”
“You’re welcome,” Dooey said, pride emanating from the bulb. “Maybe next time you feed me, you’ll-”
“No!” Audrey interrupted, fear punctuating her voice, breaking out of the reverie Harry's kiss left her. “No, I’m never going to feed you again.”
Audrey II’s head ticks to the side, their red lips curling in irritation. “Oh REALLY? You’re aaaaallllllll done, are you?”
Scoffing at their gall, Audrey shook her head. “There’s nothing you can hold over me now. You gave me everything I could ever want. I don’t need you anymore.”
Lifting their head up, their leaves adjusting into a regal neckpiece, the growing pod hummed to themself. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
Emboldened by Harry’s kiss, Audrey felt strong enough to fight back against the plant and their voracious hunger when the door’s bell rings. “Wow, that’s such a peculiar plant, where did you get it?” the new customer inquired, strolling up to the quiet bulb. Even with that inkle of concern, worried about what the plant could do now that she stood up to them, Audrey can’t find it within herself to feel bad. She’s about to start living her life with Harry, the one thing she ever wanted. Her dreams were about to come true.
A week later, Audrey felt miserable.
Without their supply of blood, Audrey II was displaying the deeper stages of decay, dried leaves littering the ground around their pot, their vines and roots curling then snapping off like dry sticks, their head tossed onto the ground defiantly. Their enticing floral scent soured into a rotten stench, overpowering the other flowers until they too began to brown and wither from the foul air. Without their bright colors, or their pleasing aroma, customers stopped coming by the store. Most people would eye the shop with nostalgia, remembering the time they bought flowers after being lured in by the exotic pod in the window, sentimental of that day two or three weeks ago. Now, nothing attracted them to the store. The chipped paint on the outside looked too cheap, the neon sign was too distracting and bright when coming home after a hard shift of work, and the lowered prices made people question the quality of the flowers. After a while, Audrey didn’t even have to count the till because no money was being exchanged, no goods were being sold, nothing was happening. It was just like before she'd met Audrey II, except worse on account of Mr. Mushnik's growing medical debt.
Worst of all, she hadn’t seen Harry since they’d kissed. Separated from the event, Audrey can rationalize to herself that maybe it was too early for him to move on, his girlfriend had only been missing for a week, officially. That didn’t mean Audrey's feelings weren’t hurt. Her heart felt like it was entombed in thorns, her eyes were rimmed with tears that never ran, and her lips were as dried as Dooey’s. There was little point in taking care of herself and her chapped lips if Harry wasn’t going to kiss them.
When Harry hadn’t come into the shop for his allotted shift, Audrey didn’t think anything of it, figuring he wanted the space to grieve the loss of his relationship. Then he didn’t show up the next day, and she was worried, going back and forth on whether to stop by and check up on him. The third day she nearly convinced herself to bake a sweet treat for him, but when she saw the uneaten pie sitting on her table, the crust tough and cracked, exposing the lethal filling, a line of dead ants trailing from the dish, she no longer felt in a baking mood.
On the fourth day, Audrey II temporarily gave up on their depression act, their scratchy voice humming the same tune, reminding Audrey of what she could have, with a little incentive of who she could get back. It’s the closest she came to caving, picking at the wounds that had scabbed over her fingers. But the plant bulb was uninterested in Audrey’s dried up dribbles, turning their head away from her pale fingers.
Thus, the two were at an impasse, neither wanted to concede to the other.
After another depressing day of no customers, Audrey heaved a long sigh, just to fill up the time until she could close up. Technically, no one would notice if she were to shut down the store a few minutes early, or a few hours early, but the part of Audrey that had been raised in this store fought against her own better judgement so she remained open until the sun dipped behind the skyline of apartment buildings and business condos.
The final few rays of the sun gleamed into the flower shop, bathing it in a dusty orange glow, the rot camouflaged in the burnt light. Audrey pushed up from her spot on her stool, ignoring the whispered pleas of the plant in the corner. She went to lock the door, when a shadow passed by the shop window, a familiar mop of brown locks catching her eye.
Racing to the door, Audrey swung the door open to see Harry pacing in front of the store, a finger tapping against his lower lip as he pondered over something. One eyebrow raised in quiet contemplation, Harry muttered something to himself before noticing Audrey standing in the open doorway. Surprised to see her, Harry’s hand twitched open and close before he decided on raising it in an awkward greeting. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Audrey repeats, matching his uncertain tone. She’s hyperaware of how good he looks compared to her disheveled state. His curls are freshly washed and styled, his button down shirt tucked neatly into his pants, the air tinged with a hint of his woody cologne. There’s a newly grown mustache crowding his upper lip, trimmed, not a hair askew. Meanwhile she was still wearing the green overalls with a month old mud stain and a shirt that hadn’t seen the wash in just as long, her hair greasy from all the time she spent running her hands through it, and she can’t remember if she bothered with deodorant today. Audrey had to actively stop herself from fantasizing about what the new facial hair would feel like against her lips, beneath her nose, scratching her skin as he kissed down her neck…
“I um… I was hoping we could… talk?” Harry questioned, then scrunched up his face, waving his hand in front of his face. “No, sorry.” He cleared his throat and started again, his eyes screwed shut in concentration. “I wanted to explain myself and apologize for… well for the last week.” Harry’s brows pinched together as he gazed at Audrey, his mouth tight.
“Oh… o-oh okay, ye-yeah, yeah, com-come on in.” The words tumbled out of her mouth like sand, spilling out of her uncontrollably, unable to stop them, unable to think them through. After a week of silence, she’s jumping to worst case scenarios. He’s come to apologize for the kiss, he doesn’t really like her, it was a mistake. She’s terrified of what he’s going to say but her body is already moving to the side, motioning him inside the store.
Harry stepped inside the shop then paused, noting the stark difference from the last time he was there. “What happened here?” he asked, peeking over to his favorite plant’s corner. “Hey, girl. What’s going on with you?” He took a few steps towards the giant bulb.
“Wait!” Audrey yelped, hooking her hands into Harry’s elbow and tugging him back to her side. “They’re, they’re s-sick and I’m working on… on a c-c-cure, but i-it-it’s best if you just st-stay away.”
Confusion twinged Harry’s face, glancing back at the pod then shrugging, appeasing her strange wish. He allowed himself to be led over to the counter, Audrey pulling out a spare stool for him, the one she’d unofficially dubbed as his.
“This isn’t easy for me to admit, so I’d appreciate it if you’d let me get this all out, and then, we can actually talk.”
Swallowing down her trepidation, Audrey nods. Her nails dig into her leg so as to combat the prickling at the back of her eyes, willing the tears to hold out until after Harry’s left.
“I really, really need to stress how sorry I am for not showing up for my shifts this past week. And I understand if you want to fire,” he joked, trying to lighten the somber mood of the room. Audrey shook her head but Harry stopped her from interrupting. “No, it’s fine. In fact, I can’t keep working at the flower shop because I got an offer to spend the next few months as a fire lookout in Oregon.” He gives a little flourish with his hands, expecting a reaction but receiving none. “You can say something now.”
Audrey had to break through the paralyzed fog Harry’s words entrapped her in, blinking through the mist until she could reach forward, her arms wrapping around Harry’s shoulders. “Oh my God, congratulations!” She tightened her hold on him, afraid he’d disappear the second she let go, afraid she’d never see him again. Lingering in his arms for a touch too long, her eyes drift over to the withered plant in the corner.
“Thank you,” Harry said, patting her hip, leaning back from her. Audrey shuffled back to her seat, maintaining eye contact to make sure he didn’t suddenly vanish. “Yeah, I applied months ago, I didn’t really expect anything of it. And, of course, y’know, she used to say it was stupid.” He’s careful with his words when mentioning his ex, denying her of her name was his way of coping with her loss. “I was thinking about what you said, something about her trying to put out my light, and when the offer came in, it hit me. If she were to return tomorrow, she’d still be unsupportive, and degrading, and… and mean. And I could keep living my life in the way that she wanted me to, keep waiting for her to come back, or I could go out and actually do something for myself. So, thank you, for reminding me that she doesn’t control my life.” Harry rested his hand on her knees, squeezing it in gratitude.
The smile Audrey gave Harry felt more like a grimace, her muscles straining to lift her lips. She’s relieved that he doesn’t seem hung up on Tiffany, and she’s flattered he took some of what she said to heart, but her soul burns in anguish, heartbroken at Harry’s impending departure. Audrey isn’t sure she could survive, if she could even breathe if he wasn’t nearby. Filled with pride that he was able to finally see through Tiffany’s perfumed persona, she’s equally dreading what that confidence has wrought. Harry removed his hand from her knee, thinking over his next words, so Audrey used his distracted concentration to slide her eyes back over to Audrey II. The pod appeared inanimate, but a singular leaf sluggishly waved at Audrey, teasing her.
“Last thing is I wanted to apologize about the kiss last week.”
Audrey’s mouth dried out at his words, her throat rough and scratchy. This was what she was most worried about. He regrets the kiss, he’s upset she kissed him, he never wants to see her again.
“I wasn’t in the right head space to handle that when it happened, and I’m sorry for abandoning you in that alley. The truth is… I was a terrible boyfriend to Ti- to her. I was with her, but I never truly loved her. I guess I was just waiting for it to happen, like one day it would all click and I’d suddenly be in love. But that never happened, and the whole time we were together, I was harboring feelings for someone else.” He looked up at Audrey sheepishly, looking at her through the curly tips of his hair, a warm smile tickling at the corner of his lips.
His revelation took a moment to settle in Audrey’s mind, too consumed with despair over a third competitor for Harry’s devotion, until Harry picked up her hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “M-me?”
Shaking his head, Harry chuckled. “Of course. I was crazy about you when we met, but I convinced myself you would never be interested in a guy like me, so I never even tried to pursue anything. But when you held me in that alley, and kissed me despite how much of a mess I looked, I realized that maybe you could love me too.”
“Y-you,” Audrey sniffed up a breath, overwhelmed at his confession, those tears threatening to make their presence known, “you love me?” She can’t believe it, he wanted her, he’d always wanted her.
“No, uh- well, not yet, at least,” Harry explained, laughing at his awkward clarification. “I like you, and I’d like to get to know you better, but I know that the long distance thing isn’t for everyone. What I’m hoping for is that you’ll write to me while I’m in Oregon. We can be pen pals and get to know each other while I’m gone, and if you're still interested, then maybe we can go on a date once I get back.”
Audrey’s relieved she didn’t blurt out her love and adoration for him in that moment, worried her more heightened emotions might scare him off. Now that she experienced what it was like to lose him, she never wanted to do it again. She nods, her hand squeezing his, “I’d love that.”
They smiled at each other, clumsy laughter budding between the both of them, letting the truth of their feelings envelop them inside their own moment. Time seemed to freeze as they enjoyed their knees knocking against the others, their fingers grazing different spots in modest exploration, learning how the other felt.
From the back room, the phone bleated out its ringer, alerting the whole store to the call. Audrey stood up, apologized for the interruption before racing to the landline. On the line, Mr. Mushnik called to announce his release from the hospital, that he was excited to return to work, and based on Audrey’s reports, he had a new idea to revitalize interest in the store.
“Cuttings! We’ll take cuttings from Audrey II, propagate them, then we can sell the mini Audreys. It’ll be great!”
Without raising his suspicions, Audrey tried to persuade Mr. Mushnik away from the idea. “S-sir, Audrey II is actually very sick right now, I’m afraid any cuttings we mi-might take would be too unwell to survive long enough to get sold. Why don’t w-we focus on something else?”
Mr. Mushnik, who never liked an idea that wasn’t his, or that he thought was his, scoffed at her excuse. “Well, we’ll get the plant better, then we’ll make the cuttings, ok? That thing saved my store once, I’ll be damned if I can’t get another revival out of it.” He hung up, tired of arguing with his employee.
Mini Audrey IIs, the idea haunted her, lingering in her ear as she set down the receiver. One talking plant with a petulant attitude and a penchant for blood was too much for her to handle. Multiple? A pod suckling on each of her fingers and toes, becoming a portable blood bag for the shop. And once they were sold? They would only harass others for more blood, all for the promise of whatever their heart desires. They’d be just as easily swayed, just as equally manipulated by the charming little buds.
Audrey could feel panic grip her lungs, the air struggling to leave as she neared an anxiety attack. Grabbing the table where she made flower arrangements, she monitored her breath as she went through her usual mantra. A home painted baby blue, a fenced garden, two kids, a boy and a girl with green eyes and curly hair, Harry in a suit heading in to his office job, Harry kissing her cheek as she makes breakfast, Harry getting a little grabby and Audrey lightly smacking his hand with the spatula, reprimanding him for his Inappropriate behavior in front of the kids, Harry giggling and pulling her back into him, Harry kissing her, Harry kissing her, Harry, Harry, Harry…
The fantasy morphs into recent memory as her panic subsides, no longer having to pretend to know what Harry kissed like. Audrey wet her lips with her tongue, preparing them for action, lubing them up with her saliva.
She was replaying his words when something stood out. He always liked her, from when they first met. Audrey II didn’t win Harry’s affection for her, she already had it. The deal was unbalanced, Audrey had paid for a service she already received for free. Did that mean Tiffany’s sacrifice was unnecessary? As the guilt began to root in her brain, she reminded herself that despite Harry’s affection, he never did anything about it until after Tiffany’s demise. Audrey didn’t know how weird plant magic worked. Maybe the plant commanded Harry to leave his apartment, maybe they told him to kiss Audrey back, or maybe they created the opportunity for Harry to express his feelings by removing Tiffany from the equation by eating her. Either way, Audrey had more proof that her magical plant pod was actually capable of warping things to their heart's desire. All the more reason to make sure no one else could get their hands on one.
Feeling more composed, she walked back out to the front of the store, ready to return to Harry, return to the beginning of the rest of her life. When she turned the corner, she was startled to see Harry standing next to Audrey II, inspecting one of the vines.
“Hey! Whoa, whoa, be careful,” Audrey instructed, jogging over to him to pull him away. The possum routine the bulb adopted made it more frightening than when it was active, the plant lying in wait for their prey, similar to their fly trap brethren.
“Where did you find this?” Harry’s voice is dangerously low, and even though she’s standing beside him, Audrey had to strain to hear him.
“Audrey II? I told you, there was that solar eclipse-”
“Not the plant. This.” Harry held up a gold necklace, a pendant in the shape of the letter T, two diamonds punctuating the tips. His hand shivers as he holds up his evidence to Audrey, the necklace swaying violently between them. “Where did you find this?”
“I-I don’t… I di-didn’t…” Audrey stammered, her head shaking back and forth, unable to come up with a good defense. “May-maybe it f-fell off?”
“No,” Harry insisted. “She made me pay extra to make sure this one didn’t have the shitty clasp, she wore this the last time I saw her, and she never would’ve come in here willingly, let alone near Audrey II. So how did this necklace end up here?!” He gets more agitated as he pressed on, his words clipped, his voice growing louder with distress.
Audrey held up her hands, trying to calm him down but he flinched away from her hands, taking a step back from her. “Ok, o-ok, I’ll-I’ll-I’ll tell you, b-but I did it- I did it for you, ok-k? I j-just wan-wanted to s-sa-save you.”
Harry shook his head, a terrified rage brimming on the surface, his eyes glossy with betrayal. “What did you do?” he murmured.
Her mouth flopped open, unsure of where to start, tears tumbling out of her. “The plant… Audrey II… th-they ate her.” Harry scoffs, disbelief flickering across his face. “N-no, no, no I’m t-telling the truth. Remember when the shop f-first started doing well? It was after we started dis-displaying Audrey II in the w-window right? But then they got sick. And the store stopped seeing business for a few days, remember? Un-until I started feeding them my blood. They said… they said if I fed them, I could keep the store open. But then I was, I was running out of blood. And I saw- I saw that fight between you and T-Tiffany, the one where she threw a hamburger bag at you. I-I-I don’t know, they needed blood, I didn’t have anymore and and it seemed so simple, to just… just-”
“To just murder my girlfriend?!” Harry filled in for her.
“I didn’t murder her!” Audrey justified. “I-I mean, I meant to. No, I m-mean, I was going to but then I wasn’t but then she- God, she started treating me like she does you- like, like she did you.” She ran her hands through her hair, struggling to find the excuses she once believed in. “And I thought I could protect you from her, I thought if she was gone then you’d… you’d…” she trailed off, unable to speak aloud her foulest thoughts.
“You thought what? That if you killed her I’d suddenly start dating you?” Harry accused accurately. “You saw her throw garbage at me and instead of checking on me, you murdered her? What’s wrong with you?”
Audrey gasped for air, her vision blurring from her tears, Harry turning into an amorphous blob in front of her. “I was trying to protect you from her be-because I love you.” It’s her last defense, her final excuse. She hoped it was all he needed to hear to realize that she had good intentions, she did the right thing, she freed him.
“I don’t know you,” Harry stressed. “You don’t know me. How can you be in love with me?”
“I do-”
“What's my major?” he demanded. Audrey couldn't answer him. “When’s my birthday?” She remained silent, shaking her head dejectedly. “You don't love me, you love the idea of me.”
“But she hurt you,” Audrey argued, “she abused you, she gave you that black eye, I wouldn't-”
“What black eye?” Harry interrupted.
“Th-the black eye,” she repeated. “You came in, had a black eye, wouldn’t talk about it-”
“Holy shit, you think she did that?” Harry rubbed his face, groaning into his hands. “I dropped a stupid box on my face and I didn’t mention it because I was embarrassed. But you… you thought she hit me? You thought she was hitting me and didn’t try to talk to me about it? You’re sick, you’re actually fucking sick in the head.” He spun around, storming for the front door.
“Where are you going?” Audrey called after him, her feet following after him.
“Stay away from me!” he yelled. Audrey came to a halt, obedient to anything he wanted. “I’m going to the police and I’m going to tell them exactly what you told me.” His gaze hardened, his sorrow mutating into fury. He took a threatening step towards her, his words firm and strong. “I’m going to tell them about the delusional woman who kills people and uses them for plant fertilizer, that she’s insane and believes a plant can grant wishes, and I’m going to tell them you planned all this because you have some sick obsession with me and then I’ll get a restraining order so I never have to see you again.”
At that moment, Harry fell to the ground, his feet pulled out from underneath him, his breath forced out in one big gasp. Audrey stumbled back at his sudden drop, then saw the vines wrapped around Harry’s ankles, the dried growth dragging him towards Audrey II’s open mouth.
“NO! STOP!” Audrey screamed, running over to the bud, beating on the head with closed fists. “Let him go!”
“Audrey?! What’s- What’s happe- Help!” Harry shrieked, his arms waving around, his nails trying to dig into the tile, trying to find anything he could grab on to.
The bulb doesn’t give in to Audrey’s pounding, their vines hauling Harry even closer. Their lips puckered, their teeth digging into his shoe as he neared. Audrey reached out for Harry, attempting to extract him away from the hungry plant. Harry’s fingers dug into her arm in a vice grip, her own doing the same, horror mirrored in both of their faces.
“Don’t- don’t let it get me!” Harry begged, babbling wildly. “I’m sorry, I won’t tell, I’ll be yours, just stop! Stop! Please, I don’t want to die! I don’t wanna die! Save me!” Harry’s feet disappeared inside Audrey II’s mouth, the pod slurping Harry up like spaghetti.
“Stop it, Dooey!” Audrey ordered, her feet sliding on the slippery floor. “Let! Him! Go!” She heaved his body with each syllable, tugging and twisting him in an attempt to dislodge the plant’s grip. Her weak arms, her shoes with zero traction, are no match to Audrey II’s hidden strength. They sucked him up, their lips crawling up to his hips, his body now halfway consumed.
Harry yelled, a spurt of blood splattering in front of him, some splashing onto Audrey. His grip lessened and his eyes dimmed as the bud gulped down more of Harry’s body.
“No, no, no,” Audrey reiterated. “Harry please, Harry, please don’t-” Her hold on Harry wavered and then she fell back, her ass stinging in pain as she landed on the floor. Picking herself up, she saw the plant gulp down the rest of Harry, the cross on his hand the last thing she saw dip into their mouth. “NO!! No no no no, how could you?!” Audrey screeched, slapping the ground with her hands until they turned red, frustrated tears streaming out of her eyes. “How could you?!”
Audrey II licked their lips, collecting beads of viscous blood from around their mouth and lifted their head up off the floor for the first time in a week. Instantaneously, color flooded the plant, their bud shifting into a vivid green, their lips deepening into a bold red. The wilt and decay evaporated, their crisp leaves now hydrated. “What? I was protecting you,” they say, their words familiar. “He was going to turn you in, remember?”
“So?! He was right! Fuck, he was right. He was right…” Audrey wailed, petulantly slapping her hands against the floor. “And now he’s dead. He’s dead and I can never get him back.”
Between her cries, Audrey heard a sound she hoped to never hear again. That song, that hypnotic melody, the music of a monster ringing in her ears. “There might be a way… for you to be reunited with him.”
She willed herself to be strong, to hold out. Audrey swore she wouldn’t give in to the plant’s temptations, but the promise of Harry, the very thing that got her into this mess, was too seductive to ignore. “How?”
Lowering their head back down to the floor, the bud slowly opened their mouth again, the ballad exploding in volume. It wasn’t just the plant’s voice, underneath their baritone, Audrey could make out two more voices, accompanying, harmonizing with their host. One was high and shrill, the other low and even, both riffing off of the tune. That’s when Audrey realizes what the plant was truly offering. They didn’t want to just eat her, they were giving her a chance, a shot at being with Harry. Her fantasies transformed. A house painted emerald green, with a purple interior, fenced in by a plant, just her and Harry, living happily ever after.
Audrey crawled across the ground, sluggishly approaching the bulbous head. She climbed up into their mouth, her clothes snagging on their teeth. Once inside, Audrey curled onto her side, lying inside, repeating to herself over and over again “It’ll be like falling asleep, it’ll be like falling asleep.” As the pod began to close, their lips sealing shut, Audrey released her final breath, closed her eyes, and waited to join Harry, to begin the rest of their lives together.
This is such a fun idea for a spooky fic I am so hyped to sit and devour it later!!! I know it’s gonna be wonderful and little shop of horrors is one of my all time faves!! I’m so excited!!!!-S✨
His voice was low– strained, a gravely cry clawing its way up his throat, “Harder.” Your brows furrowed, a combination of pleasure and confusion awash in your visage.
That word had been cried, moaned, and pleaded more times than you could count when you were with Harry, but never in all your sexcapades had he ever been the one to articulate it.
When you looked up at him he almost looked in pain. A crease had formed between his brows, a dewy sheen along his hairline– the babiest of curls beginning to slick against his skin. The need for you to hurt him was compressed in the clench of his jaw– gripped between his molars.
He kept his rhythm, sinew and bone clapping against the back of your thighs and bum, the crown of his cock burrowing against the threshold of your guts. Through bared teeth he punctuated a particularly forceful snap of his hips, nestling himself impossibly deeper inside of you, he repeated the directive– “Harder.”
You shuddered with a whine, your muscles tensing around him as he hit that spot that made your toes curl and your mind blank. You latched on, the blunt of your nails digging into the plane of delicate flesh between his neck and shoulders– the need to ground yourself in his skin strong.
He groaned, throaty and diaphanous– pleased with the fire that bloomed beneath his skin from your touch. The pads of his fingers dimpled in the plush skin of your hips, securing you in his grasp like you were something that could drift away in the tide between your bodies. Holding you was ameliorating whatever pain you caused him from your pleasure.
He nipped at your jaw, breath fanning as he suckled at the tepid skin beneath the hinge. His voice was soft beneath your ear, treacly and deprived, “More, baby– please.”
So you latched, your nails digging into the tide-like muscle of his shoulder blades– flexing and shifting with every heave of breath from his lungs and snap of his hips against your own. The bite of your nails in his skin made the flow of his body stutter, shaky and uncertain as he continued to fuck into you.
His skin gave way beneath your hands, petechiae blossoming in the wake of your touch. Rill marks chiseled across his skin, hot, searing– nestling into the fire that burned bright beneath the blank canvas of his back.
You kissed his collarbone, a messy wet assuage that had your teeth scraping across thinly veiled bone. He groaned as you marked his chest, the indent of your teeth a half moon in the sky his sparrow tattoos inhabited. His hands slipped past the dip of your waist, settling to cradle at the swell of your ribcage. The resonance of your moans and gasps gutteral– a frequency that could only be found where your chests pressed together.
He shifted, the inside of his thigh skimming along the curve of your hip– angling him deeper so he nudged against your g-spot with every thrust. You cried with each impel– needy, whiny moans that you couldn’t stop if you wanted to.
You clawed, mauling, as you nipped and suckled at his throat and chest. Each bite, bruise and mark you enacted only encouraging him further. “Gonna come for me?” He mewled, securing the grasp on your ribs. “Fuck– baby, please.” Your nails harrowed, each new line only propelling him– harder– faster.
His hips snapped, a gravelly moan slithering into the nest of your hair– burrowing into the heat of your skin. The heat of his orgasm filled you, the final spark to blaze your own precipice. You came with a cry, the tips of your fingers etching in divots into his flesh– a linocut of the pleasure your bodies created.
His thrusts slowed, the sound of your orgasms wet and viscous. Realizing the pain you’d just inflicted your hands fell from the plane of his back– guilt rising. Discerning your compunction he kissed your cheek, the hinge of your jaw– the salt on your skin its own unique delicacy.
“Wanted it baby,” he cooed, hands slipping up the plane of your back, fixing at your shoulder blades to hold you tight. “Bet your marks look so pretty.”
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Always looking for inspiration & feedback, feel free to send me a message here!
groomsman!harry styles x bridesmaid!reader border by @zclhs
wc: 4k
warnings: nothing for now
taglist: @triski73 @cherry-fics
You'd heard he was coming.
The little whispers of the other bridesmaids-even the taken ones-had been lingering the entire drive over to the rehearsal dinner.
Little giggles and searches on Google and other various social media platforms became the topic of conversation as someone's phone was passed around, sharing images of how "hot" he looked in a recent candid street image.
"I know I'm married, but I feel like my husband would give me a hall pass for this opportunity", one of the girls giggled as her thumb continued to scroll through various images of the man of the hour-Harry Styles.
It wasn't every day that a wedding was graced by a celebrity, which surely contributed to the bridesmaids having a bit of a tizzy over his appearance being made at the wedding, let alone him being a groomsmen.
"Which of us is paired up with him? Please, please-you have to tell us!", another bridesmaid nearly begged the bride, but she wasn't giving in to the temptation to spill.
"I'm not saying a word! Besides, Harry's a nice guy-very normal. And if you can help it, please just treat him like any other guy this weekend, alright? I'm sure he doesn't want all of that special attention."
The bride's words were soft spoken as she set the ground rules with each of us in her wedding party with a stern face. "Oh, please, no photos of him. If I find out any of you snuck a photo of him, and then it's all over the internet, I will be furious. Okay?"
Each of the bridesmaids, you included, nodded with facial expressions falling more seriously at the bride's request.
"Are we allowed to stare...tastefully?", another bridesmaid asked, sending the group of us into a fit of giggles, even the bride shaking her head with an amused grin.
"Just treat him like anybody else! Seriously-he's a normal guy."
"Yeah, a normal guy who had sold out tours and looks like a mythological god."
You chuckle with a light smile as you observe the group of girls who continue to chatter about this celebrity's appearance. As your eyes trace around the moving vehicle, they stop on the bride once you realize she is looking at you with the tiniest hint of a smirk curling at her lip.
"What?", you mouth with eyebrows scrunched together. The bride doesn't verbally reply. Instead, she gives you a simple shake of her head, with that small smirk still plastered on her face that was a mystery to you.
What the bridal party on both the bride's and groom's side didn't know was that each of the bridesmaids and groomsmen was paired up with their opposing partner very strategically.
The entire weekend, bridesmaids and groomsmen would be intermingling with one another as they attend the various wedding celebrations and events. This is the very reason the bride and groom hand-selected the pairs, seeing as they knew the group very well; thus, they were able to decipher who would best get along with whom.
The rehearsal space-aka the wedding venue- was gorgeous. Your eyes marveled at the high wood ceilings where the reception would take place.
"And here is where the bar will be", the bride served as a tour guide of sorts as she gestured to the very obvious bar that was already stocked full of various alcohols that hung on the back shelf.
"Open bar?", you inquired with a curious grin, making the rest of the girls giggle and pique their interest as well.
The bride nods, "Open bar-BUT don't get too messy with it, okay? I don't want anyone blacked out."
The bridesmaids nodded, eyes scanning around their surroundings some more as the bride led them down a hallway that was in the far back of the venue; it contained two doors, one set on the left and the other on the right.
"Here...", the bride said, pressing her hand to the door on the right, making the once cracked door fully open, "...is where we will be getting ready on the day of."
You could tell the bride was very proud of the venue she had chosen as she beamed up at the surroundings and then back to the group to gauge their reaction.
The room was rustic in nature, but had a very well-balanced mix of vintage and modern pieces of decor. Off to the side of the room held a large, vintage Renaissance couch that was adorned in pale pink fabric and gold accents for the trim.
In the center, all the way to the back, were three large conjoined mirrors with rounded edges that were encased in a gold that matched the couch seamlessly. A large, round rug, also most likely vintage, along with various tables for setting items on, complemented the entire room.
"This is gorgeous", you awed, marveling at the space that seemed to suit your best friend severely well.
"Isn't it!", the bride beamed as the rest of the girls in the group contributed positive compliments and reactions to the space as well.
"And right across the hall is where the boys will be getting ready. I can show you that space too", the bride made strides towards the door as she led us each only a few feet deeper into the hallway.
As she opened the door, her eyes went wide.
"I didn't know you guys were here-you should've told me! I could've done introductions and all that."
You were standing in the very back of the group, and your height difference from the others wasn't a good advantage at this time, causing you to not be able to see what everyone else was able to see clearly and be excited to be viewing. But you had a pretty good idea what or who it was that made each of the bridesmaids stand up straighter and place excited grins on their faces.
"Well, we can do it now! Come in, everyone", you could hear the groom's voice as he spoke from the other room, causing the group of women to begin piling into the space.
You were the last to enter, but his eyes fell on you instantly-though you weren't aware of it at the time.
"Everyone, this is the boys, aka the groomsmen. Since we are all here, I can let everyone know who they are paired up with."
You nodded, your eyes scanning the group of men across from you, wondering which male you'd have the pleasure of tolerating for an entire weekend. You only hoped he wasn't an insensitive and insufferable macho type, not that you thought your friend's future husband would entertain a type of guy like that. However, you never truly know these days.
"He is so much cuter in person", one of the bridesmaids-who you were familiar with, but wouldn't call her a friend-more so an acquaintance-leaned over, keeping her face completely forward as she spoke in a hushed tone in your direction.
Your eyes searched her face and drew a line from her eyes to what had been the object of her attention at the moment.
That's when your eyes met his side profile.
His eyes were focused on the bride and groom who stood together at the front of the room as they began calling out names one by one and announcing the other half of the pair.
You stood up straight, blinking away your previous concentration on the strikingly handsome-more handsome in person infact-guy as you followed his gaze to the front of the room.
As the bride and groom got down to the bare bones of the list, there were only two people left to announce.
"And that leaves Y/N and Harry as the final pair."
The bride gestured to you and Harry with her hand, waving between both of you. Your eyes flickered in Harry's direction to find him already smiling at you.
Casually, he nodded his head in greeting as a friendly smile graced his lips; a pout that was surrounded by neatly kept facial hair.
You returned a friendly smile, holding his eyes for a moment, until you turned forward once again to the bride and groom.
"You're so fucking lucky", the same girl who spoke in a quiet voice earlier spoke again into your ear.
"I expect a full rundown of everything that happens after this weekend."
You roll your eyes, still containing a playful smile on your lips. "I'm sure it'll be..you know..like a normal wedding. It's not like he's actually going to talk much to me anyway. He's a celebrity and I'm sure he wants some peace and quiet wherever he can get it."
The fellow bridesmaid shrugged. "I heard he's actually quite personable so...you never know", she finishes by bumping her hip with yours in a playful manner.
10 minutes or so later, the wedding planner had arrived and quickly began putting the bridal party to work.
They assisted in situating everyone at the front of the room where the wedding ceremony would be taking place.
Bridesmaids and Groomsmen were to forma curved line on either side of the bride and groom, lining up in an order that is even with their partner for the weekend.
"Everyone will walk down the aisle. No stomping, no walking heavy, or walking too fast. Just a nice, even walking pace. Let's have everyone try so you can get a feel for it." The wedding planner's instructions seemed like common sense; however, as the first couple of pairs walked down the aisle, it seemed that neither of them were able to keep the same pace or walk with delicate feet.
Once a set of partners took their turn at walking, another went, taking a step up in the line until they were next up in taking a go at the aisle and trying-perhaps failing-at walking with one another and not making it look forced.
You caught Harry's eye from across the short way, both of you making a silent vow to not be as horrid as the others had been at this.
Your eyes moved to the pair currently walking down the aisle, with the groomsman seeming to walk way too fast and the bridesmaid trying to catch up with his large steps as if her life depended on it.
Humored, you looked back in Harry's direction, noticing him cringing lightly at the couple, making note of the same things you were, you could only assume.
You let out a chuckle, one you hadn't realized was so heavy in volume as everyone turned to look in your direction; bride, groom, wedding planner-the whole lot.
You clear your throat, acting as if you simply had something caught in it that made the simple task of breathing too scratchy to not attempt to clear your airways.
Harry wore a smug grin and shook his head, seemingly amused by your too-loud laughter.
As the couple finished their jaunt down the aisle-next up was you and Harry.
This was the first time you would be in close confines with the deeply well-known man, and to say you felt a bit of nerves would be an understatement. You weren't sure if it was simply his social status that caused this feeling or the way his light colored eyes looked at yours.
"Let's show 'em how it's done, yeah?"", Harry mumbled, only loud enough for you to hear as he lifted his arm for you to grasp onto.
You looked and met his forest colored eyes with a little grin. "Let's do it."
Your arm encircled his as you both stood at the front of the aisle for a moment, collecting yourselves before making that first step.
"Yes, yes! Perfect. Just like that everyone." The wedding planner called as you and Harry walked down the aisle with seemingly no effort or much brain power.
It seemed as natural as breathing.
"What's your secret?" one of the guys who had already taken their walk of shame down the aisle called over to you and Harry, causing the wedding party to collectively laugh at the light-hearted banter.
"Pay attention to the differences between you and the person you're walking with", Harry's voice commended to an audience, or at least each of the bridesmaids who looked acutely aware of him speaking.
"She's shorter than me, so naturally her steps will be smaller than mine. I just toned my natural speed down a bit and that's it", Harry shrugged, his gaze moving down to yours as he finished his top secret recipe for 'walking down the aisle without looking like a complete jack ass 101'.
The wedding party all nods, but all you can think about is how Harry observed you for long enough to note the height difference between the two of you; even if it was only a second or so, it was still something.
As the rest of the bridal party take their turns practicing walks down the aisle, Harry stands behind you, close enough to feel the vibration from a laugh that rumbled in his chest as the groom made a joke about hoping no one would fall when walking down the aisle.
"Think we were the best?"
You feel a fanning of breath on the back of your neck as Harry's accent fills your ears as if it were the most beautiful composition of music you'd ever heard.
You turn your gaze slightly over your shoulder, noting that Harry must've taken a step or two closer to you.
"Oh, definitely", you say with a beat of confidence that's intermingled with amusement and humor.
Harry smirks behind you, his eyes drifting to the back of your neck, finding it..pleasing to the eye, but his gaze remains respectful as he draws it back upwards, narrowing in on the latest pair to practice their walk.
"Alright, shots for everyone", the maid of honor called out as she handed out various shot glasses for each of us in the bridal party as we sat in some highly luxurious bar that was set on the highest floor of the skyscraper building.
The walls bulged out, creating a circular shape that was perfect for giving a panoramic view of the city that dwelled below as various cars and tiny specs of humans galavanted, going about their lives.
The bride and groom had set up a dinner just for the bridal party as a way for all of us to get to know each other better, but also as a means to shower their closest friends with love and appreciation for participating in their wedding.
The bridesmaids all sat on one side of the table, with the groomsmen on the other. Naturally, each of the pairs sat across from each other, and as the alcohol began flowing, so did the conversation between the group.
Harry was relatively more on the reserved side, you noted. You weren't sure if this was due to his nature of perhaps being a more laid back person, or if he was just attempting to keep a spotlight off of him. Both items are very, very understandable.
Plus, it gave you more chances to simply observe this man you'd be spending loads of time with this weekend.
"So, how do you know the bride?", Harry's voice finally resounded, your eyes moving upwards and gazing at him head on.
"College roommate", you say simply with a nod and small smile as you sip from your water. Harry nods in response.
"What about you? How do you know the groom?"
"Childhood friend, believe it or not", Harry quips. His facial expression pinpoints himself as doing mental math, trying to configure the amount of time him and the groom had been friends.
"I've known him since I was like..ten I want to say."
"Wow, that's a long time", you say with arms that fold and rest gently on top of the marble table. Your gaze is interested, genuinely interested; Harry finds that rather endearing.
He nods, his mouth pressed to the glass of his whiskey neat, and a mouth being hidden slightly by the mustache covering his upper lip.
"It is. One of the only lads I've managed to keep up with since childhood."
You nod, "Did you lose a lot of friends when..you know", you motion with your head, hoping Harry picks up on what you are hinting at without you having to bring up the obvious past that most people on the planet know of, yet him having the knowledge of you being familiar with the slightest bit about his milestones to fame, somehow that felt embarassing or stalkerish.
"When One Direction started?"
Your breath seems to hitch in your throat as he says the band name-the ever popular boy band name; making it very, very real that this is indeed a celebrity you are chatting with so casually about old friends.
On the other hand, it felt refreshing to talk to someone without an unbiased opinion of yourself, even more so when it was someone who had the sort of social status that Harry did.
"Yeah", you nod, stating simply.
Harry appreciates your relaxation of the matter. He was very under the impression that you easily could've been some sort of fan girl, oogling him all weekend. However, he put his trust in one of his best mates and his future wife that they'd sort out this pairing of the wedding party in a positive way on Harry's behalf.
Harry nods, "I did, yeah. Sort of hard to keep up with people when you're that sort of busy-and it all happened so fast."
You nod, feeling sympathetic towards a feeling of losing touch that, unfortunately, you had never thought to pair with the rising of fame in such a short time span.
"I can understand that. Seems difficult to navigate. Like...how do you tell someone, 'Sorry, can't text. I'm doing interviews and photoshoots all day'."
"Exactly-and it was just as new for me as it was for the people around me, too. I think a lot of them just didn't know how to respond to this being my life now."
For a beat, you forgot about the crowded, noisy bar, as you became enveloped in Harry's view of things. That is, until a loud bustling of bass-heavy music seeped through the speakers.
Your eyes moved focus from Harry for the first time since you'd started talking.
Your vision became preoccupied with fellow bar attendees- you'd noted that the room had gotten much fuller in the time you both had started chatting. Harry's eyes too darted around the room, except his were hyperaware for a much different reason than yours.
"You alright?", you inquired, noting his eyes very intently concentrated.
Harry nodded, but didn't meet your eyes right away as he stared off into the crowd that loomed behind your back.
"Yeah", he answered dryly, before his eyes came back to yours. You weren't convinced.
"You sure?", you pressed a little more, turning from your waist in your seat.
There, the obvious answer to Harry's uneasiness stood. Phone held directly in front of her face as if he was some sort of show to be put on display specifically for her and her camera phone.
"Ah, I see", you said, twisting around slowly in the chair to face Harry again.
"Want me to punch her? I can't fight, but I would at least thoughtfully consider it."
Harry's pinched eyes loosened at your humor. "You'd consider it...but not actually do it?"
"Yes", you said as if it were a plain, set in stone fact.
"Wow, how kind of you", his response was 50/50 charm, with the other half being pure sarcasm, but the ever-playful kind. Though the moment didn't seem to last long before Harry's eyes were flitting back around the room-analyzing.
"Do you have to be aware like this everywhere you go?", you asked with sympathy dripping off your tone. Harry's eyes, again, found yours.
"Pretty much", he shrugged, though seemingly not as phased as one might think a person would be should they near-constantly have a camera shoved in their face.
"Let me know if you need me to block them."
Harry cocked his head to the side, "What do you mean?"
"You know-", you began moving your head from side to side-something so subtle, yet it made Harry feel an encapsulated pit of warmth in his chest.
"You're going to block them by moving your head in front of their camera?"
"Do you have a better idea?" you challenged, making Harry let out a genuine single chuckle as he pressed his whiskey to his lips again.
"Suppose not", he smirked, setting his glass on the table with a small clinking noise.
Again, Harry's eyes returned to behind you, something you were finding easy to catch on to now that you knew it was something he was forced to do.
"Right or left?"
"What?", his accent accentuated the vowel sound pleasantly.
"Right or left-which way should I lean to block them?"
Harry shook his head with a warm smile, but decided to play along.
"Left", Harry spoke after a beat of silence, giving you the resources you needed as you tilted your head to the left.
"No, my left. Not yours", he grinned, finding amusement in this entire situation, but primarily at how charming you were being.
You create an "aha" shape with your mouth as you tilt your body the other way. Instantly, a smirk pressed to Harry's lips.
"Nice. Glad you know your left from your right then."
"Hey! You never specified if it was your left or mine", you defended, but all in good fun.
"Do you always do this?"
"Do what?", you posed the question, this time with genuine concern etched onto your features; however, that wouldn't stay for very long.
"Make the rubbish feel a little less heavy."
It took you a moment to process the depth of what Harry had just said, and it seemed that he realized that as well as he did what he always did when things got a little too serious for his liking-he cracked an insanely dry joke.
"You know what they say about American cheese?"
You watched in confusion as Harry plucked up a piece of cheese from the charcuterie board laid in the middle of the table.
"American cheese?"
"Mhmm, you know what they say about it, don't you?" Harry's smirk was boyish in nature-as if he held a pretty little secret that he knew would do just the trick in adding some liveliness to this conversation to replace his rather sentimental compliment he gave you moments before.
"It's shitty and addicting, just like my ex."
For a moment, all you could do was stare at this man from across the table with narrowed eyes and a cracked smile.
"How long have you been sitting on that one?" you teased-of course, Harry appreciated the playfulness very, very much.
"Way too long, love. Way too long. Felt good to get it out", he mused, a series of chuckles mingling between both of you.
To Be Continued
Hi! I've been pointed your way by several people! I hope to get a chance to do a deep dive this week! I’m in desperate need of some good smut! What are some of your fav pieces that you’ve written? I'll start there! ✨🫶🏽
ooh it's a tough one, i usually forget about the fics i wrote after a while but i just scrolled through my masterlist and these are some of my most popular spicy fics from the past few years:
@watchmegetobsessed was so kind to take the time and make a list to get me ( @maudie-duan ) started on some of their fics! Sharing this so everyone else has a chance to dive in if you haven't already. I know I'm late to the game, but better late than never!! Thanks for doing this @watchmegetobsessed I can't wait to read them.
They’ve known each other almost their whole lives. Mason and Harry have been friends since Harry moved in next door to their house. Everyone grew up and moved out of their parent’s house, but that friendship never changed.
Calum is Mason’s (not so) little brother. Calum came out as transgender a few years ago, and has since transitioned. Mason is very protective of Calum, and doesn’t want anything to happen to him. That’s just how big brothers are.
Every Friday, their favorite television show releases a new episode. They get together and watch it every week, as they have for many years. Sometimes Calum joins in. What happens when Calum’s current boyfriend is no longer in the picture?
(Note: The trans character Calum in this story is somewhat modeled after my own trans experience. I have not physically transitioned, so that part I am writing without experience, but I have started a social transition, so that is from experience. I know my experience is not universal, so please remember that when reading. Not every trans person is the same. This story is completely fictional, but including a trans character is important to me. Thank you for reading such a long note.)
I'm a sucker for Brothers Best Friend fics and on top of that this will be my first Harry Styles Fanfic that has a Trans OC. I am so down!!! @hswriting I'm so proud of you and your journey and I just know this is going to blow my mind! Please, please, Please add me to the taglist!! ✨🫶🏽
