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Harry Styles Dirty One Shots

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I groaned loudly at the sight of another boring medical drama on the television, flicking through the channels aimlessly. “It’s official, there is nothing on,” I decided with a sigh, tossing the remote over to my boyfriend of two years, Harry Styles, on the other end of the couch. He winced when it landed in his lap. “Watch the goods, love,” he smirked over at me.

“Sorry, Haz,” I bit my lip, resisting a smile when he started feigning serious pain, “if you want I can rub it better…”

His eyes widened on their way over to me. I started blushing like a beetroot, because I’d meant it as a joke. I was a virgin, and Harry knew that well. I loved him because he’d rather die than pressure me into something I’m not ready for, but the furthest we’d gone were heated make-out sessions. He took the remote in his hand and shuffled closer to me, rubbing my back with one hand and checking each channel with the other.

“You’re right,” he grimaced after a minute or two, “literally nothing on… unless you can sit through another episode of Teen Mom…”

“No, thank you,” I lulled my tongue over the first word, laughing.

“Come here, then,” Harry murmured drowsily, and slunk his arm over my shoulders. I fell against his side and snuggled in, burrowing my face into his t-shirt and inhaling the scent there. It was Harry all over, like freshly washed laundry and cologne.

“You smell nice,” I whispered. He answered with a chuckle, and “thanks, babe.” I shuffled myself around him, eventually sitting back up when I couldn’t stay still.

“You really do get bored easily, don’t you, babe?” He watched after me. I nodded proudly, and laughed when he eased his body up and let out his hands for me to take.

“Come on then, my love, let’s go for a walk,” he winked.

“Sounds good to me,” I smiled, and let him pull me up. He took us to the front door and pulled down two jackets from his coat rack.

“Your pick, babe,” he held them up to me. I deliberated for a second before picking the stylish black one in his left hand. It was three sizes too big when he shrugged it over my outstretched arms, but I didn’t care. It smelled like him, and felt like safety tucked in between the lines.

He took my hand in his and led me out the front door. He locked up behind me and we started down the street, hand in hand.

“Thought this might ease back your boredom, babe,” he smiled down at me, swinging our hands like a metronome.

We took a winding path a few blocks down from his house, onto a scrambled walking trail that wound into a forest after five minutes or so. The sound of gravel underfoot played a tune in our heads.

“This is nice,” Harry sighed eventually, stopping where we were. He peered around at the scenery, knotted limbs of trees growling out of the ground and overgrown bushes with reticent flowers bulging out. I nodded my head in agreement, walking quickly to keep up with Harry’s long-legged pace.  

After a few minutes, I felt something tick on my shoulder. I glanced at the fabric of my shirt and saw the wet stain splashed there. “Uh, Harry…” I looked up at the sky anxiously. Before he could say anything, a clap of thunder sounded and rain came pelting down around us.

“Damn,” Harry groaned, “come on, babe.”

He raised an arm and tightly burrowed me into his side, hurrying us back along the winding path towards his street. We ran, slipping and giggling every few seconds so that by the time we made it back to Harry’s front door, we were soaked to the bone. I rushed ahead with my eye on the front steps, but a strong hand tugged me back. “Haz, what are you doing?”

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Harry Stylesas Himself
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