Harry Styles One Shots

Y/N works at a roller rink and Harry goes there to read

i.

Y/N doesn't mean to stare.

It's just so hard not to, really, when she's been working at this god forsaken roller-rink for the better part of a year and sees a consistent group of people go in and out. They were all the same characters – children anywhere from 4 to 10 who leave everything so sticky when she goes to wipe down the tables and game machines, their parents who didn't want to be spending $100 for ten or so kids under their supervision to move around on wheeled shoes, and 12 to 14 year olds who are too cool to skate so they mosey around the game machines and stick their chewed gum wherever they very well pleased. All of the same drab, boring faces, knowing that they could literally be anywhere but here right now and it'd probably be much better.

Yet there he was. With circle lens glasses rimmed black and wild green eyes, fluffy brown hair he's raked his hands through about six different times, and a pouty strawberry colored mouth that ordered cheesy fries and a water very politely before sitting down in a specific corner, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the room with a book in his hands. Seemingly unfazed by the squealing five year old birthday party underway. A character she's never seen before, waltzing on in here like he's known this place forever.

She didn't get it.

"What's got your eye, then? Don't tell me the bloke with the cane came back." Her coworker – Niall – slides up to her from where he'd been patrolling the kids like some roller-skating lifeguard (there happened to be quite a few fights to break out amongst parties and there are always parents who don't believe their beautiful little sugar dumpling could've ever shoved someone in tag and got pushed down in return...no, not at all, it had to be the establishment and the bummy skates and slippery floors, they oughta be sued). He does a quick scan around the room trying to spot the middle aged man called Hugh who'd come in and was either intentionally tripping kids, or had no idea how to properly use a cane.

"No, not him, he's gone for Spain he told me." She murmurs albeit distracted, still eying the boy with a questionable taste for a reading spot, "A guy is reading in that corner over there? You see." With a subtle nudge of her head she directs Niall to him, her fingers plucking at the wet blue striped dishrag she'd been wiping down the counters with previous to her getting his fries for him, "A shitty place to come for a relaxing read, isn't it?"

When Niall spins back around, the wheels on his skate start to slip out from beneath him, and he would be on his way to the ground if not for the hand he slams onto the black cushioned edge (Y/N would like to say her reaching out her hand and grasping at the fabric of his button up helped some too). "Oh, that's just Harry, pay him no mind." He swivels around so he can fit behind the small swinging door, batting Y/N out of the way so he can snatch a cup and go for the ice machine beneath the counter, "He's always reading around campus, m'surprised you haven't seen him around yet. Always has a huge ass book though – girls love him, the bloody prick has the likes of Angel and Meredith all over him."

Y/N rolls her eyes, "Who gives a rat about Angel and Meredith, they're assholes." Which they wore – this wasn't coming from a spot of jealousy, which most might think. No amount of pretty can cancel out the ugliness in someone's personality and attitude, and these two were some of the worst of the worst. Several times Y/N's ended up comforting some of their recently dumped sorority friends at parties when they're too drunk to be tag teamed by a couple of pissed off 90s movie-esque bully types. Once they decided to have one sleep with this girl Catherine's girlfriend at a party and have the other "accidentally" bring her into the same room.

It's almost like they got off on being cruel, which was disgusting really. Y/N's never spoken to them before but she can't imagine it working out in either of their favor if she did.

Sighing dreamily, Niall shoves the Styrofoam cup against the soda machines trigger, "Hot assholes at that." His eyes flicker back over to Y/N, "Speaking of assholes, do you wan' get yours bleached with me? I lost a bet, and don' wanna go by meself."

Before even acknowledging whatever the hell Niall was talking about, Y/N gives Harry one last sparing glance before busying herself with the counters once again.

. . .

Being face down and ass up on the ground of a roller rink floor is not how Y/N imagined spending most of her Thursday evenings after class, yet here she was, scrubbing the soda out of the carpet with Bissell deep cleaning powder (which she's pretty sure is for pet stains, with the golden dog on the label but that was neither here nor there). She was getting a mom a 44oz Pepsi realizing too late that there was a hole in it until she pulled it back, and then when she tried to get more soda for her the machine sputtered to a spitting stop all over both her and the floor. So she had to give her a free bottle instead, which the lady snatched out of her hands (and Y/N would've snatched it right back had she not been swooped away by a knowing Niall's arm towards the cabinet with the cleaning supplies.

Niall huffs, sticking an "Out of Order" sign on the Pepsi while simultaneously writing down a report for it to get fixed, "S'like everything in this god damn place is breaking or broken, where's Bill been?"

"Went to Colorado with his kids for his daughters 18th. God Ni, it's like you don't listen when people are talking to us." Bill was their maintenance man who Y/N surprisingly got along with very well (he has her hand him his tools and makes Niall take care of the booths, both the renting and the concessions) and with the amount he was here, it wasn't a surprise they knew quite a lot about each other. He knew what she was a majoring in, where she was from, how old she was when she lost her first tooth, and Y/N knows that he's got three daughters and one son, divorced his wife back in '98 and raised all of his kids by himself, put them through schooling, and spoiled them rotten. Hell, she's even set him up on a few dates in the past – she knows one day she'll be able to find him someone, because he was an amazing person, truly and he deserved to be happy as anyone.

There is a subtle thumping of a Justin Bieber song playing through the speakers while a child squeals with glee in the distance, and Y/N is rubbing in circles with a scrubbing brush, as Niall slides past her to file it in the boss's mailbox, "I listen, I do, s'just I don't absorb a damn thing. You know you're the only one I actually remember information about? Like how your voice gets a little pitchy when you defend yourself."

Y/N gasps, "It does not!" She winces at her indeed very pitchy voice while he gives her a knowing, pointed look, leaning up against the counter.

"And I also know that you're looking into getting your asshole bleached with me." He adds in.

"I haven't been Niall." She responds, scrubbing a little harder at the carpet.

Niall huffs, "Please!"

"Niall, I'm not going to bleach my asshole with you!"

"Um, excuse me?" A voice interrupts the both of them and their necks just about snap to look up at the person behind it. Of course – of course, of all people to stumble upon them it couldn't have been a mom, or a dad, or even a 14 year old would've been better than who was standing at the register.

Harry from yesterday was in the same black rimmed circle lensed glasses, but a new yellow sweater that looked terribly comfortable and nice and not sticky with fucking Pepsi like the shirt she was wearing. She stumbles up to a stand dropping the scrub brush and she wants to throw herself into a fire, because Harry is pretty damn cute and she hasn't really stopped thinking about him since she saw him first. Thought maybe next time she saw him she could try talking to him; ask him about the book he's reading or where he got that cardigan he was wearing last time or what he was doing reading at a roller rink when he could literally be anywhere else.

Instead he walks up on her saying she's not going to bleach her asshole.

"Hi, sorry," she answers, a little breathless and she hears Niall snickering behind her, "What can I do for you?"

He gives her a small smile, that has butterflies tickling the insides of her tummy and she thinks she might pass out – he's really, really, really cute, and that's just something she doesn't know if she can deal with, "Just cheesy fries and a water."

"You like our cheesy fries?" She asks without thinking, ringing it up while he plucks his card from his pocket.

"Best cheesy fries I think I've ever had, really," Harry responds and his voice is syrupy and slow, but nice on the ears – drips like honey onto her ear drums, "Right amount of cheese n' everything."

Y/N presses a hand to her heart, "That means so much to me – Niall told me I don't know how to make cheese fries for anything."

Niall pops up from where he took to scrubbing the carpet for her, "He's just being nice to you, 'cos he doesn't want you spittin' in his food, ain't that right H?"

"Never," he smiles, and a dimple pops out of his cheek like a crater in the moon – she thinks if she curled up tight enough, she could sleep in it, "I don't lie about food."

While Y/N does up his order she tries to settle the jittery jumpy nerves from the sight of him. She usually has petty crushes, sure, but normally a cute boy proves that he's an asshole before she can throw herself too far in. Harry, however...he was sweet too, and had a smile that could rival the brightness of the sun, she's positive.

So she makes sure to make the fries extra special, and when she hands them over to him, she shakes her head at his card, "Nooo, its on the house this time around. Anyone who likes my cooking and disagrees with Niall, is a friend of mine."

Harry's smile grows ten times bigger, "Thank you..." he searches for her nametag, and once he finds it at her left breast pocket her murmurs, "Y/N."

When he walks away, Niall is behind her in seconds, swatting at her bum with a semi-cupped palm, "Are you flirting?"

"No, I'm being nice." She grumbles at him, opening and closing the register.

"Nice me arse," he hums, sliding to support himself with his elbow and giving her those same annoyingly knowing eyes, "Well that was surely something to watch. Harry's normally so quiet, I think that's the most I've ever heard him speak. And he never entertains Angel and Meredith's flirtation attempts."

She smacks his bicep, "I wasn't flirting! Unlike you I don't go after anything with a heartbeat."

"Ouch, Pet, that stings," he feigns his hurt, but a sneaky smile pulls at his mouth soon after, "Not everything with a heartbeat, sure, I know that because of your Twilight phase. You and pale ass Edward Cullen staring at the stars, wasn't that your dream?"

. . .

The weather was in a weird in between as of late; the days were too hot for fall sweaters, but too cold for summer time shorts, so Y/N's wardrobe had consisted primarily of leggings and thin long sleeves. She only has so many thin long sleeves though, and so little time to do laundry this week, so now she's freezing herself out in a short sleeve when each burst of wind is like a hypothermic threat. Her backpack does little to help her and the binder she holds blocks off at least some of it, but her arms were decorated with goosebumps as she trekked across campus.

There were few people out so early, because apparently she was the only one dumb enough to take an 8AM class, so the walk was mostly quiet save for a few chirpy birds and the gusts of wind. Y/N's eyes were a bit squinted as she'd woken up just a few minutes prior to stepping outside, so everything was just a weird post-sleep haze as she tried to wake up. Loud yawns making her eyes water and only obscuring her already sleepy vision further, and she checks her surroundings just about ten times to make sure she's walking the right way and not in the opposite direction (as she's been prone to doing many times).

She was so caught up in her sleepy hazy world that she almost doesn't see Harry sat at the trunk of a large willow oak tree, whose leaves have yet to begin the switch from healthy greens to blistering oranges, yellows, and reds. He's dressed in a thin white shirt, his cardigan draped across his thighs as he scribbles something into a leather bound journal of some sort, and his glasses have slipped a little far on his nose. Y/N doesn't realize her feet have changed course until she's just about ten feet from him and her voice, all throaty and scratchy from lack of use (and lack of water) calls out to him, "Hey! You're my cheesy fry guy!"

It's apparent she startled him, as she watches him flinch and smack his journal closed in one quick breath that almost makes her step back in her own alarm. When he looks up at her she sees as his cheeks pink up, a finger coming up and rubbing just beneath the tip of his nose, "Hey, hi –"

"I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry," she apologizes quickly, "Niall says I need to work on not sneaking up on people like I do – says my steps are light as a mouse."

"S'fine, you didn't scare me!" He answers a little too quickly, "You're – you're out early?"

Y/N nods, and as if on queue a yawn hits her like a truck – she tries her best to cover her mouth with her hand but it does very little to stop the noise, "Yeah, a bit. An 8AM class seemed like a good idea in the moment but it's kicking me in the butt lately, especially when they have me working late Sunday nights." A shiver plows through her too, racking her body with a particularly cold breeze and she pouts some because she doesn't know how Harry barely even flinches.

His head tilts, "Are you cold?"

"A bit," she answers, "Need to do my laundry but I never have time – s'like freezing out here this morning though isn't it?"

Harry looks down at his lap towards his cardigan and Y/N thinks that maybe he's just giving himself a pat on the back and some praise for being smart and bringing it, because no doubt the lecture hall is going to be a snowcap as well, but instead he grabs it. "Do you – here, take this." He shoves his journal off his lap, standing up from the ground and Y/N realizes how tall he is then when she's right up on him – there's a height difference at the roller rink because the concessions and skate rental are elevated up by a step.

Brows furrowed, she tries to search his face for any sort of hesitance – he's a bit shy, she finds, and she doesn't want him to give it to her just because he thinks that's what she was hinting at. "Are you sure? Won't you get cold?"

"No – no, I'll be fine. Plus you gave me free cheesy fries so I wanted to repay you." He holds it out to her, "You can just give it back to me next time at the roller rink, yeah?"

She pouts her lips again, "Thank you, Harry," she drops her binder to the ground with a thud, and lets her bag slip off of her back as she takes it from him, shrugging it on and the warmth from it is incredible. A thick olive green waffle knit that no doubt had to cost at the very least $40 and it heats her up immensely, giving a small pleased shiver as it shields her from the brunt of the chilly air, "You're a life saver, no doubt."

"My name," he blinks at her owlishly as she picks her stuff back up, and she raises her eyebrows, urging him to continue, "You know my name?"

"Oh, yeah," she nods, "Niall told me." He looks relieved, a smile worming onto his mouth as he gives her a once over, and a short nod like he's glad with what he's done, "I'll see you around Harry! Need'a get to class before Professor Griffin locks me out."

Don't get her wrong – if not for the essay she had to hand in she would say fuck it to Professor Griffin and his overly cold lecture hall in favor of sitting with Harry out here, because he smells like cinnamon and has a beautiful smile and it beats learning about the 1920s. Alas she had to skip away all snug in his cinnamon smelling, warm cardigan and she can't help but bite down on her bottom lip to stop a grin. How she managed to do this, she wouldn't know – usually she's shit with boys, but there's something about is more or less timid way of going about things that encourages her to put herself out more. She's just hoping she can rope him out as well.

. . .

"So are you two fucking now or what?"

"He let me borrow his cardigan because I was cold, Ni, we're hardly doing anything."

They were in the middle of figuring out how to get a kids stuffed animal unstuck from behind what felt like a thousand pound game machine and the wall, and theorizing how it had even gotten there in the first place, when Niall finally brings up the fact he saw her walking in with what was inevitably Harry's (she figures he could smell the cinnamon on it too). She figures he would've asked sooner if not for the panicked mother and her eight year old daughter whose stuffie managed to squeeze its way away from her, so now was as good a time as any she supposes. Just wishes he would've looked around a bit before he chose to say it how he did.

"But I mean like – he's ordered cheesy fries from you twice and now all the sudden he's letting you use his cardigan? You can't say he doesn't want to get his dick wet." He continues, trying to slide his arm between the wall and the machine but once it gets to his elbow he can't fit any more.

"Niall!" She admonishes him, whacking the back of his head with her hand, "He's just being nice, you dolt. God, you join a frat n' all you think about is sex, s'that it?"

"Hey, hey, hey! M'just encouraging a budding relationship between you and him. Plus once you've got him in the bag, Meredith might finally let me take her out for a nice movie and dinner date." Y/N pulls him out of the way, squeezing in between the game machines like he'd been and trying at digging the bear out her own, but not even she could do it. It was not clicking at all how the fucking thing got there in the first place, and she's just about ready to tell them to buy another bear because this ones days are going to be spent right behind some weird version of pinball.

However, before she could shout that across the room and call it quits, there's a presence behind them that surely isn't that of a parent's (they would've said something by now). When she turns to look she sees Harry with his head tilted to the side, a book tucked underneath his armpit and an expression riddled with confusion at the two workers who stare back at him. "Are you two – do you need help?"

"Yeah, Mate would you mind?" Niall nudges his head towards the machine, "Some kid's bear got stuck behind the game and we can't move the machine by ourselves. Now I think if all of us tug on the legs outward we could probably – holy fuck!" Abruptly Niall is cut off, because Harry bends down and moves the machine completely on his own in one fluid motion. Feeling her mouth drop open, eyes bugging out as her and Niall look to each other then back to Harry who is standing up and popping his fingers, "Bloody hell, what're you? Superman?"

Harry's cheeks go pink again and he looks down a bit at his hands, and for that alone Y/N pinches at Niall's hip until he bats her hand away with a frown, "Can you fit between there now?"

Y/N wiggles her way through the machines again and reaches behind it easy, holding the teddy up in triumph.

After returning the bear to the respective child, Y/N returns to where Harry is watching as Niall tries to shove the machine back up against the wall. Grunting and groaning before giving up because of a pain in his knee (which has been his excuse a lot these days, Y/N thinks he needs to go get it checked out but "M'a grown man, Y/N, I think I know when I need to visit a hospital"), and ultimately leaving it up to Harry who shoves it back into place smoothly. It makes her wonder why he hides his biceps beneath cardigans and sweaters all the time, because they obviously must be massive compared to her and Niall's twig arms. He doesn't even break a sweat doing so; no puff or huff of air from the exertion of it.

"Thank you, Harry," Y/N gives him a smile that's given back to her with a sheepish tuck of his chin down, "A life saver once again, sorry we're so week. We're shit at dealing with sobbing kids."

"It's no problem, really!" He assures her, shifting his book from underneath his armpits to cradle in his hands but the cover is flipped over before Y/N could get a look at what it's about.

Y/N starts walking back towards the counter, waving Harry over in tow, "D'ya want cheesy fries and a water?"

"Yes please." He murmurs politely, and Y/N's heart is just going to turn into a pure mush. Harry's strong, handsome, and terribly sweet and soft and it's ridiculous really. People should be limited to one good quality per person, she firmly believes, because if they have several then they are just way too darn powerful. She's fairly certain he could have whatever he wanted and more with just the click of his fingers, especially if what Niall says about having people all over him (boys and girls alike) is true.

So Y/N makes him his cheesy fries and fills up his water, and she lets him pay this time so he doesn't feel indebted again. Watches as he tucks himself back into his corner and plucks a fry from the mess of cheese and shoves it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he pulls his book open and starts from the middle. Y/N wonders if he can feel his eyes on her or if his book is really that good, but his cheeks (from what she could see) pink up again and a small smile tugs at his lips.

"If you're g'na eye fuck him, you might as well ask him out on a date." Niall says right next to her and it startles her enough that the water she had poured for herself goes directly down the front of her shirt, drenching her and making the fabric cling to her skin. He coughs out a laugh as Y/N groans, stuffing her face into the crook of her elbow with her head down on the counter.

One of these days, she's going to pummel Niall.

. . .

Y/N only noticed after her shift that she'd forgotten to give Harry his cardigan back, so despite having only one 9AM class in which she could go to her dorm after, she spends the next hour and a half scouring each and every nook and cranny of the campus to find him. Maneuvers her way through groups of people, avoids the ones with sour faces, and even ends up shrugging the cardigan back onto her body when a cold chill dances along her skin. Its not the same as when she first put it on though, because she'd ran it through the washer for him so now it smells like her Downy fabric softener and the vaguely like the cupcake candle she had lit last night.

Just as she's about to give up and go home, she spots a familiar tuft of fluffy brown hair in a small alcove so far deep into the library she doesn't think she'd ever been there before. There's a window right besides him; he's got his forehead leant against the glass, a small patch of it near his mouth foggy from warm breaths, and one leg is kicked up supporting the book and his hands while the other is dangling off the side of the small cushioned bench he was sat on. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and thick knitted navy blue cardigan similar to the one Y/N is pulling off herself quickly so he doesn't see how much she's milking it.

"Harry," she whisper shouts to get his attention, rounding the corner of bookshelves and Harry jumps a bit, closing his book and setting it off to the side, "I'm glad I found you – I forgot to give you your cardigan last night."

"Oh!" He smiles, taking it from her offering hands, "Thank you. You could've kept it if you wanted, I've got plenty."

Fuck, Y/N thinks to herself...she would've kept it if she'd known that.

Y/N is in the middle of scolding herself for being a good person and returning the cardigan even when he didn't ask for it, when Harry begins talking again, "Um – if you're not...if you're not busy, you could stay maybe?" Her eyes flicker to him, and she watches his widen and he shifts up to sit straighter, "Just like – we only ever really talk at the roller rink, but I'd...well, I'd like to talk more. You're fun."

A grin is warm on Y/N's mouth as she lets her backpack slide off her shoulders before plopping down besides it, looking up towards where Harry sits, "Thank god, my legs are killing me. Been looking for you all over but you keep such a low profile. Surprisingly the library is the last place I looked."

"Well s'not too far off for you to be looking other places. I bop around quite a lot to find different reading spots." He shifts, turning his body towards her and criss-crossing his legs, and Y/N catches just a hint of a bulge that nearly makes her stop breathing. Though she makes quick on switching her gaze back up to him so things don't get awkward – Harry is shy enough as is, her staring at what may or may not be him hard would not help.

She swallows thickly, reaching for her water bottle in her bag, "Dunno how you do it, honestly. The only thing I can bear to read nowadays are magazine covers in the check out line at the grocery store, my brain always feels so kaput by the end of the day."

"S'not easy!" He assures her, "I make a habit of getting as much work as I can done at once so that I can read in my spare time – don't do much besides that. S'nice to like get out of your head every once in a while...not to be cheesy or cliché but its almost therapeutic in a way. Like a vacation, poking around in a different life, in a different story and connecting with characters and whatnot." Y/N nods slowly, urging him to continue but he looks away sheepishly, "Sorry, I know you probably don't care —"

"No, I do care actually," she tells him, leaning forward so her elbow was at her knee, and her fist was propping up her head, "You're making me want to get back into it, but I know I never will." A defeated sigh carries through her body, starting from deep within her chest and bellowing out like a gust of wind, fluttering a few strands of hair away from her face though they inevitably settle right back.

They're quiet for a moment, until Y/N gets an idea. A terribly, wonderful, so fucking ingenious idea that she feels herself vibrating in her bones before she asks, "Hey!" She starts a little too loud and they both flinch, looking around to make sure there was no pissy college students glaring in their direction, as she ropes herself back into a whisper, "Why don't you read to me? If you don't mind it, of course, but you could read me the stories you're reading and then I don't have to read." She pauses, her own brows furrowing, "That sounded a lot less selfish in my head."

"No! No, that – that sounds like a really nice idea actually. You'd really want to hang out with me though? Even if it's just reading?"

Y/N nods excitedly, another smile pulling at her mouth, "Yeah, course I do. Is that weird?"

Harry shakes his head, his cheeks dimpling, "No, just – anytime someone asks to hang out they want me at a party or something, but m'not well versed in those. Or they want me to take them on dates and I'm not great at those either."

"Well," Y/N shifts to sit up on her knees, "No parties or dates here. Just you, me, n'a book. Thank god for it too, I've been meaning to hang out with you without Niall's vulgar self interrupting our conversations."

Ducking his face down, he's still smiling and Y/N's happy with herself. It's true – she's wanted to see more of Harry since the very first time he'd ordered cheesy fries, and if seeing more of him also meant that he would read to her in that deep, slow, soothing voice then that was all the better. She can't believe she'd been so outright with asking it because she's never like that with anyone, really, when she's only just met them a few days prior. Something about Harry pushes her to do it though...almost like, since she knows he's a bit withdrawn with everyone else, the fact that she can get him talking makes her feel amazing. Makes her feel a little ballsy too...it's just really easy with him.

Y/N's about to ask him what kind of books he likes to read, when a shiver hurtles through her body and a yawn overcomes her all at once.

When her eyes come back from squinting the waffle knit cardigan is being held out to her again.

"You should invest in a jacket." Harry tells her.

. . .

It seems like every time Y/N is at the roller rink, there's something awry whether it was one thing or the other. She'd just gotten done calming a panicked father who was certain his child had been kidnapped (she was in the bathroom), dealt with a scraped knee from an 11 year old whose parents dropped him and his friends off, and now she's twelve feet off the ground up on a ladder trying to screw in a bulb that she's certainly not qualified nor credentialed to be doing. Niall has a bum knee though, and it'd been flickering enough that a mom convinced them it was a safety hazard and demanded they do something about it.

Sometimes she wonders why she stays working at this ramshackle, dilapidated fucking place.

(She knows its because they pay her a suitable amount to feed her online shopping habit and work around her college hours well enough, but that won't stop her from complaining a bit.)

"You know this would be a great view if I didn't respect you so much." Niall says from below, where he holds the ladder steady and she rolls her eyes, getting a grip around one of the steps so she could swing a foot at him, "Oi, oi! M'just joking, I'm not staring at your arse. Wouldn't do that to Harry."

"Will you shut up?" Y/N grumbles at him, unscrewing the long fluorescent bulb from its spot, "I'm going to stop telling you things about my life."

Niall reaches up to grab the long dud bulb from her hands, setting it besides them on the table before going back to holding the ladder, "I just think its so cute as all. When I say he doesn't give Angel or Meredith the time of day, he really doesn't Pet. Proper snubs them sometimes – shy lad with everyone, but him offering you to sit with him? Agreeing to read to you? These are things they've only ever dreamed of."

"Doesn't mean anything." But it is something to think on. Why Harry would even want to open up to Y/N rather than someone much prettier, and much richer, and who could probably give him a better time than him reading to her like a preschool teacher. It made her giddy – bubbly with excitement that Harry thought she was fun and let her borrow his cardigan, and he was smart, and cute, and warm, and an all around just amazing angel like creature bestowed on this planet and he wanted something to do with her and only her?

It meant everything.

"I'd bet me good knee and an asshole bleaching, he's got an eye for ya."

By the time Y/N finishes switching out the bulbs and steps cautiously down from the ladder, she notices a line building up at the concessions, and among the tiny bodies there was one a great deal bigger, holding tightly to a book with ring decorated fingers. Y/N almost trips over herself getting back behind the counter, dusting off her hands on the black fabric at her thighs and hurriedly working to get each slushy wanting 5th grader out of the way so that Harry could come up to the register.

When he does, she's half worried that he's reverted back to his shy self with her once again, despite them spending nearly four hours in the library with one another just chatting about this, that, and the other. He's polite in ordering his cheesy fries and water, gentle when handing his card over, and will only look her in the eyes for small increments before they dart either above her head to the menu or to outline the design printed on the carpets.

It makes Y/N's whole being deflate; maybe it didn't mean anything? Maybe her and Niall were really just looking into some deluded Disney movie fantasy where the cute, introverted boy really likes her and she's the only one he'll really open up around. Could anyone blame her though? He'd said she was fun...they discussed his Astronomy class together and how she could never find the constellations. Harry had even offered to help her find them sometime on a map first, then on the sky... but she supposes that was all talk? Or did her leaving on the note, "Catch you later Alligator," just really turn him off?

Y/N is suffering within the profundity of her self doubt when Harry finally speaks up.

"Y/N?" He begins as she's handing him the cheesy fries, perking her head up to his voice, "I was wondering – were you serious about me reading to you?" She nods quickly, trying not to look so much like a lost puppy waiting for him to call her over (failing immensely), "I didn't ask for your number at the library but...do you think I could have it? So we can plan it – I mean...like set it up?"

Relief floods her like a tsunami, as she tugs her phone out from her back pocket and slides it over to him, "Add your number in?" She prompts him. Harry sets the cheesy fries down, his own relief soothing over once hard, worried features as he licks over his lips with a taffy pink tongue. "And an emoji too!" She adds in, locking eyes with him for a moment as he types in his contact, "I'm trying to personalize my contacts to a certain extent but I've only gotten as far as my mom, dad, and Niall."

"Lucky fourth?"

"The luckiest fourth." She hum and it makes his face heat up bright as one of the neon lights on the sign out front, his pale skin doing very little to hide the glow of it as he bites down hard on his bottom lip.

After all is said and through, when Harry retreats back to his corner with his cheesy fries and water, Niall is up at her side in a flash, "You owe me one free asshole bleach buddy. The two of you are so cute it's disgusting."

. . .

A few days later Y/N comes trudging into her dorm room, her bag weighing her shoulders down, her eyelids heavy as anvils. The cold wind was really knocking her into shape – beating her up into a chilly, exhausted pulp dragging her feet like there were cement blocks tied to them. A late shift at the rink, plus a 9AM class, equals a terrible, terrible hangover like state that she hasn't been able to shake for the entirety of the day. Now she's just ready to fall face first into her mattress and sleep for a year, maybe two or three.

However as soon as she's kneed herself up onto the mattress, gearing up to flop down but a vibrating in her pocket stops her just short of it. Sighing, she reaches behind herself to grab the phone half expecting it to be Liam – her self proclaimed body guard who likes to make sure she gets home safely and to also ask if she'll pick up his shift at the roller rink – but instead its a new number.

Hi Y/N, its me Harry x.

A girlish squeal that she'll never admit to have making, twisting so she falls onto her back with her pillows fluffing around her with a poof. She'd not forgotten she'd texted Harry to give him her number, but he told her he would text her with the details and it'd been a long while since. So she sort of lost hope again, as she seems to keep doing – it just feels too good to be true that he likes her. With some subtle digging (asking Niall more questions) she finds that Harry has shut down not only Meredith and Angel, but the sweeter girls too – a girl called Jenny who was gentle and soft and Y/N would've thought a better time than her. Avoids the frats like the plague, though a lot of the chiller ones have tried recruiting him time and time again.

But Harry asked for her number...texted her first.

She gets another message.

I just wanted to see if you were free tomorrow so that I could read to you, if that's still a thing

Y/N is smiling lamely at her phone as she types her reply.

I'm ready when you are, give me a time and place!

He answers back quickly, like he might be waiting with his phone in his hands like she is.

Meet me at 12PM at the library. We can go to my flat from there. Bring a book you want to read!!

Y/N rolls out of bed almost immediately, pulling her shoes back on as all the exhaustion blows away in a gust because she has to find a book and she has to find one now.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N is so excited for the next day she nearly calls Niall just to gush.

. . .

The next day they do just as they said they would; Y/N meets up with Harry outside the library with a murder mystery that had a cover just spooky enough she was into it, her comfiest clothes on, and a smile that made her cheeks hurt. Harry, in a light blue sweater just on the side of too big around the arms, turns ruby red when Y/N tells him he always has the cutest clothes. Tells her, "You always look really cute too. Or wait ...I mean like your clothes. Not that you aren't cute though! You are I just didn't want you to think I was implying –" he was turning pinker by the second until Y/N put her hands on his shoulders (or at least a hand then the heel of her palm, since the book was a bit bulky).

"Harry," she cut him off, her lips still pulled towards her ears, "Take me to your house."

He relaxed some, looking at her gratefully before he lead the way.

Harry's home was something out of a story, Y/N thinks. It's a small flat but a cute one at that; soft carpeted floors, a heather grey suede fabric couch and loveseat to match, a small bookcase stuffed full of books from small to thick and everything in between. There was art on the walls, along with wooden Japanese styled boxed lighting that once he flips on gives the whole room a warm glow. A TV sits in the corner atop of a small oak finish entertainment center, also full of books, a few with picture frames of who he thinks are his mother and sister. The stairs lead up to what looks like a large and amazingly soft bed that she wants to burrow herself into...she could only wish to actually get up in his room to see it.

To add all to it, he's got an excited pug jumping at Y/N's legs and begging for a pet.

It couldn't have been a more amazing home.

Harry's fiddling around with a candle as Y/N scratches behind the pug's ears, feeling the cartilage move beneath her fingertips as she coos at him, "M'sorry about her," he says, settling the candle in the middle of the coffee table, "She's a bit excitable."

"You don't have to apologize for anything, she's the absolute cutest!" Y/N enthuses, "What's her name?"

"I call her Daisy but she really answers to any name you call her. Innit that right Pumpkin?"

Daisy, tongue hanging out of her mouth and all, twists and cranes her neck to look back at Harry as he'd foretold and it makes Y/N giggle, and her heart race ten fold, because could Harry honestly get any cuter?

Once Y/N's had a suitable amount of time with the puppy, she watches from the doorway to the kitchen as Harry lets Daisy out for a wee before he slides it shut, "You're place is amazing Harry," she tells him, "I could ballyhoo over it honestly, such a nice and warm vibe to, and it smells so good. Like a reflection of you honestly." The last bit had slipped out unbeknownst to Y/N's brain – she's certain her mouth is working against her. To cover her tracks and to avoid having Harry turn all sheepish and quiet as he realizes she basically just told him he was nice and warm and smelled good too, she shoves the book out towards him, "I brought over a murder mystery type. Something about teenagers and a masked man, yada yada, think it'll be a good read though."

Harry inspects the book thoroughly before nodding, sliding the door open to call Daisy in then motioning towards his living room.

"Are you ready to start?"

. . .

As the day progresses, Y/N learns two things:

1. The book is giving her chills and she should've definitely gone with a romance novel.

2. Harry's voice has to be the most beautiful thing she's ever heard.

Its low and modulated, unhurried but not too slow – still syrupy sweet on her ears, terribly calming that if this book wasn't so intriguing she could probably fall asleep. She finds herself getting lost in it more often than not. His accent is thicker on some words than others, and when she hears it peeking out she feels herself biting her lip to keep from smiling too big at it.

There is some trouble on her part, because she finds herself just looking at him which may or may not be creepy on her part. Following the outlines and curves of his face, the cute little dip of his brows as he comes to a particularly unnerving spot in the story, the button of his nose that she kind of just wants to nip at and kiss, especially when he runs his finger beneath it like she's noticed he's prone to doing. Daisy was settled at his side, his legs were kicked up onto his coffee table, and he flipped pages with such precision it rivals a school teacher.

Y/N thinks it's an amazing thing to see – Harry in his calmest, most comfortable of states. She wonders how many people have seen him like this, with a candle lit, slouched into his couch contently. If she could possibly be the only one.

When she watches him sneeze, crunching into his whole body, and sniffling afterwards...she hopes she is.

. . .

It feels now, whenever Y/N has a free moment, she's at Harry's side. Two weeks after their first reading together, they've finished her first choice, her second choice, and are now on her third book. They read for at least three hours, talk about it for one hour, eat together, talk some more, read some more, and usually it ends up with Y/N leaving (not wanting to), and nearly proposing the idea that she could just sleepover – the thought becomes more and more enticing as the nights grow colder with autumn chills.

Y/N learns a lot about Harry in their short time spent together and in return Harry learns just as much about her. From favorite bands to favorite foods, to Harry even admitting he has the biggest soft spot for bunnies (he'd own one if not for Daisy, who he fears might eat the little guy) and Y/N sharing that she stores an uncomfortable amount of knowledge about plants (more specifically, mushrooms) deep within her brain. It's easy with him, she thinks, there's something about him that just pulls information out of her and she thinks she might have some of the same effect on him. Or at least Niall thinks so, since he's been analyzing their developing friendship like ancient literature.

(She would never understand his interest, or why he's so taken by the fact she's able to get Harry going on a topic rather than him resorting to blushes and quiet murmurs, but she lets him do as she wishes. Secretly, she thinks Niall's been actually taking notes from Harry so he could grab Meredith and Angel's attention, but being an already self-acclaimed "frat sex god" might ruin his chances at the "soft, shy bookworm" look he's going for.)

He still visits at the roller rink, which doesn't help Niall's all too loud effusive comments about how close they're getting. Even more so when Y/N and Harry high five over a personality probing of the main character in their most recent book, and finding out why he does the things he does despite the stupid outcome. Only it wasn't just a high five, because Y/N locks their fingers together out of habit (its what she does with all of her friends) and she's nearly panics – hears Niall drop the broom besides her while staring, and Harry merely squeezes her hand back comfortably, no blushes or anything like it.

The closer they get the more smitten Y/N becomes.

Her heart rams against her chest when she sees him, and when she listens and watches him read it's like stargazing. When they talk she thinks she could just listen to him speak forever; each word spoken deliberately and clear. That is, of course, if she's actually fully listening. Most of her thoughts are just ridden with disgustingly mawkish and sentimental cuddling scenes; snuggling into his warm body, breathing in his vanilla cinnamon-y scent, tilting her face into his chest and falling asleep to his soporific voice. It's her ideal situation from all the ones her imagination has conjured up.

Sometimes, she will admit, they verge onto just a bit dirty. She's no pervert, she promises, it's just sometimes things happen that get her mind started and she can't help where it goes. Like she had a dress on the other day – a nice floaty one that billowed in the wind – and they'd been out to get sandwiches to take back to his house. The wind caught it up in a gust just high enough and from the bright red Harry turns, she knows he got a peek of her bum. It makes her wonder what he'd be like seeing her actually naked, or if they ever did have sex what it might be like. She imagines he'd be just a shy as he is normally...cautious and tentative, a snuggly fuck she thinks he might be with his arms wrapped around her and holding her close.

She often wonders if maybe he feels the same way. If she's allowed to crawl into his lap for a cuddle or if he isn't that much of a touchy feely guy, if she's permitted to lie her head down on his thigh or if that's too intimate for friends, if she's wanted to play with his hair or if he'd rather her keep her hands to herself. It's amazing, truly...she's never been this bent over a guy before and its driving her batty. Just wants to pick and poke at his brain to see if he feels like she does.

So as she sinks herself into her bathtub, foaming with bubbles to the brim and lavender scented Epsom salts at the bottom to soothe her achy joints from taking a fall at the rink early that day (Niall tricked her into taking a round on the rink, just once) – she thinks about Harry, because he seems to be the only thing she can thing about as of late. Thinks about cuddling up at his side and having him read to her. Thinks about him muttering sweet nothings into her ear in his slow, syrupy sweet voice. Thinks about kissing him, biting at his soft mouth and molding it with her own.

Y/N thinks about a lot, as she sinks deeper into the tub with the bubbles tickling around the swell of her breasts.

. . .

Y/N finds herself twirled upside down with her bum pressed to the back cushions of Harry's couch, ankles locked as she listens to a fourth murder mystery. This one is alright, but she's having trouble keeping interest in it, given she's grown to despise the main character. Every decision they make is one deriving from a place of a sanctimonious, holier-than-thou attitude that pissed Y/N right off. Thought she was better than all the other girls just because she wasn't like them with wanting materialistic things and whatnot. Reminds her too much of herself in middle school and too much of Meredith and Angel now – all of which, she'd rather block out entirely.

When Harry reads one line in particular, "Well, obviously they wouldn't understand anything how I see it. They've got their nose stuck up in the air so high, all they're able to make out are the clouds their heads are in." Y/N lets out a loud, nettled sigh. It makes Harry pause, like he's picked up on the fact that that sigh means she's about to start up on a tangent (and he probably does, since they've read multiple books together, and Y/N rarely likes the main character the whole time).

"Will she shut up for once? God!" She grumbles, which apparently is an invite for Daisy to waddle over and start licking at her cheek, "If she's so fucking smart then she would've found out who the killer was by now, wouldn't she? Acting all priggish is going to get her nowhere, plus she's completely downgrading the fact Margie's got perfect grades because she's too "prissy and rich" for her? Ugh." Reaching around, she rubs the cartilage of Daisy's as Harry slides a bookmark between the pages they left off on.

"Is a bit on her high horse, innit she?" He agrees and Y/N nods, despite Harry already knowing her point, "But maybe she's struggling to trust these girls because of her mum. With all the parallels she draws between them and her, its clear she's got some deep rooted issues with her after all, since she left her and her dad."

Pouting, Y/N's forehead wrinkles, "No excuse to be such a self-righteous dick though." The dip in the couch she had unintentionally rolled into is lifted as Harry stands up from his seat, murmuring something about getting into his leftover sugar cookies when Y/N grabs the leg of his pants. "Oi," she stops him, holding out her other hand far above her head, ordering, "Take me with you then." And when Harry gives her a look, "I want to pick one out too!"

Harry rolls his eyes fondly, grabbing at her two hands extended out towards him to give a sharp tug. They'd moved the coffee table earlier for some "pre-reading stretches" as instructed by Y/N herself (her back had been sore), so he can comfortably pull her body slowly off the couch until her bottom half flops on the floor. She huffs at him, "Y'know, you were s'pposed to pick me up." He continues to pull her about halfway, letting go of her arms when they pass up the end of his very much unneeded rug (he's got carpet anyway, she doesn't see the point).

"Don't be lazy." He chides, watches only for a moment as she rights herself to all fours, then onto her feet. Sets off for the kitchen once again with her set in tow.

Y/N draws from the depths of her, the most late night sex ad seductive voice she can muster, "But I like when you manhandle me Daddy."

She can feel his cheeks heat up from where she leans against the doorframe, a smile dancing at her mouth. While she prides herself in being one of the only people now who can have a full conversation without Harry getting all embarrassed and blushing, she rather enjoys the fact she can still fluster him. Gets him all wide-eyed and worked up before he starts grumbling at her.

"Save it for the bedroom." He teases, though the tint of his face don't hide the fact that it most certainly took him off guard.

Giving a hopeless sigh, Y/N watches with piqued interest as his muscles define reaching for the cookies on the cabinets above the fridge (he didn't trust Daisy one ounce to not find her way up on the counters), setting them gently to the granite, "What bedroom?" She questions, "The only boy's bedroom I've been in other than a relative's is yours, n' I haven't even been in your bedroom."

Harry peels the saran wrap back, "So you prefer to make them do the walk of shame home instead?"

She gives a halfhearted snort, scratching at the bridge of her nose with one finger, "If there was any walk to do then sure," she tells him, "But it's sorta hard to have people shamefully leave my room when I haven't had sex. That is if you don't count Niall trudging out of my room because I wouldn't give him my Psych notes."

"Wait, what?" His fingers pause over a pumpkin cookie.

A crinkle forms in her brow, "To be fair he'd been a dick to me at work that night, so of course I wasn't giving up my notes for –"

"No, no," Harry's shaking his head, looking completely thrown, "You're...you're a virgin?"

Y/N can't say she was a little startled by the question. Had she not debriefed that information before? She could've sworn she'd said a think or two about it previously, or maybe that was with Niall but she can't say that Harry looking absolutely confused and shocked doesn't make something stir inside of her.

"Sure am." She tells him, "S'that hard to believe?"

"No!" He exclaims, hand falling to the counter, "Not at all just you're – you're so cute and vulgar sometimes I thought..."

Her insides warm with the compliment, whether he meant to let that slip in his surprised state or not she'll take it and run with it. Harry thinks she's cute, which just drags all the insufferable feelings she'd been working on pushing out for the night to the forefront of her mind.

"Just 'cos I'm a virgin doesn't mean I don' know a thing or two about sex, Harry." She teases lightly, clucking her tongue at him, "Are you a virgin?" Harry looks taken aback as she flips it, shaking his head slowly, "Well look at that, you're a sex god and I'm a virgin, we are learning a lot tonight."

He finally reaches in for a sugar cookie, "I'm – I'm hardly a sex god, or anything. Just the first year of college I experimented a bit." Lifting the cookie up to his mouth to take a bite, he stops just as it reaches his lips, hesitating, "So – so when you and Niall were talking about ties and whatnot..."

Y/N remembers this conversation vividly; Niall had been debating the pros and cons of rope vs handcuffs in the bedroom when Y/N had brought up fabric ties as a nice alternative. From there they went to leather paddles, crops, and googling the outrageous prices of some of the higher end ones (real leather and all), all the while Harry had actually stood at the counter with them to eat his cheesy fries rather than disappearing with them. It's safe to say he'd been bewildered by the whole thing but once someone gets Niall on something, it's hard to veer the subject, so the choices are to roll with it and have an interesting conversation or sit in silence while he mumbles points to himself.

The latter of the two was just creepy, so she always chose the first option.

"Don't know a firsthand thing about it." She tells him openly – it's nothing to be ashamed about, she doesn't think, and she's also kind of living for how he's reacting. Like there was no way someone hadn't fucked her yet. "I've done my research though. Most of any sexual conversations we have though, I'm basing off guesses."

Harry takes a cookie shaped like a yellow witch hat, handing it over to Y/N who takes it gratefully, biting into the brim of it and munching happily, "Sorry for acting so...so shocked, it's just..." His words fall short and Y/N lets them, filling in the rest by herself if you were mine I'd fuck you into my mattress – because that's the most ideal way for him to end this conversation, she thinks.

"It's okay! I don't mind telling you things, I feel it aides in our friendship towards best friendship at a very nice rate." She reassures him. A dimple dents his cheek like a moon crater, grabbing the cookie plate by the edge and establishing that it was coming with them back to the living room, "D'ya wanna watch a scary movie? These cookies got this place feeling atmospheric."

"Sure, but I get sorta spooked by horror films," he tells her, "Fair warning. No laughing if I cry."

. . .

"So what's he always reading then?" Niall questions her one day, sat on the counter and swinging his legs back and forth while Y/N stood beside him taking inventory (one would be surprised with how many corndogs they go through on a weekly basis, because Y/N for one is shocked – she wouldn't trust those corndogs and she's the one who makes them). She flicks the pen cap with her finger absently, letting her gaze flicker from the sheet in front of her to a pair of agog blue eyes.

"What?" Her brows furrow, thumb dog-earing the corner of the sheet before unfolding it and trying to rub out the crease; an unavailing task she would soon give up on in favor of just adding another crease to a different corner.

Niall, propped up by his hands placed behind him, sighs dramatically, like Y/N was the one bothering him, "Harry!" He answers, nodding his head towards his corner, "Since you two have been all close and reading together, you should know what he's always got his nose stuck into, no?"

Y/N's eyes fall on Harry, who is wiping the cheese from his fries off his mouth with the corner of his napkin. He'd come in about half and hour ago, and after a suitable amount of time of chatter among the two (Niall was eavesdropping from the kitchen, pretending to be sweeping in front of the door for a good teen minutes) Harry had made his way to where he always sits. She bites her lip to stop from smiling as she watches him stare with an intense focus at the page, unlike the one he uses while he's reading aloud to her – his features are much warmer and softer then.

She's never really realized it though, as she shakes her head to answer Niall's question, brows dropping back towards the each other as she really thinks on it. Harry's always letting her pick the books they read together. Has never offered up one from his bookshelf or suggested one that he might currently be reading – she had always just assumed he preferred reading those on his own time, but she should at least know the name of some of them shouldn't she? Y/N's around him enough that it would be likely, but alas she has no clue.

It doesn't upset her though, that he's not letting her in on that part of him. Harry's already showing so much of himself too her she could never be angry with him for wanting to keep that bit to himself, especially with his often self-effacing demeanor. Although she can't say Niall's question doesn't plant a seed of curiosity in her brain, while she watches him turn the page from across the room, scratching at the back of his head.

What is he always reading?

. . .

The seed of curiosity has sprouted – bloomed into a full garden in a weeks time, as she begins noticing more frequently that Harry slams his books and journal shut when she's near. Often slips it beneath his thigh or out of view if he's even bothered to keep the cover on it. If she ever asks him aloud what he's reading, he merely shrugs, "nothing too fancy" always his reply.

She doesn't mean to get so nosy and she blames this sudden burst of inquisitiveness on Niall but she can't say she hadn't been curious at all before this. Now whenever she spots him while he's reading, her feet itch with the need to sneak up on him to read over his shoulder, or drop down to sit below him so she could get a look at the title. However, try as she might, Harry is always just one second quicker than she could ever be (she also thinks she may not be as sneaky as she thinks she is when she's trying too hard – once she had even tripped over herself and dropped onto his back, which only made the both of them squawk before they had to rush out of the theatre, which technically neither of them are allowed to be).

Apparently, some higher power is really watching out for her though, because just as she's about to start giving up the unthinkable happens.

It's similar to every Wednesday night nowadays; Harry's ordered his cheesy fries and water, they talked about what book to read next (she gave him the synopsis of three different ones and he ultimately just lets her make the conclusion herself), he went off to his corner as he normally does. Y/N thought nothing of this day...hadn't imagined it would be different than all of their Wednesdays spent together about sixty feet apart. Until she hears a noise similar to that of a squawk that she's heard one too many times (to her own fault), dragging her attention up from the Styrofoam cups she was restacking to a very frazzled looking Harry headed in her direction.

"You okay, Mate?" Niall asks before Y/N gets the chance to.

Harry shakes his head, "Forgot to submit my project!" He calls back to them, dragging some tired parents' attention as he's sped past them towards the door, "Which is due in twenty minutes, so I have to go, I'll see you later!"

Y/N noticed there that nothing is in his hands as he passed by but she looks over to his spot to confirm that a book was sat there, along with half eaten batch of fries. She takes in a breath, about to call after him so he could come grab his book, though she gets no chance to when a hand clamps down around her mouth halts any words at her tongue. "Shh!" Niall swings her around to face him, "Now's your opportunity to see what he's reading."

And its bad to be so sneaky, she knows – curiosity killed the cat but she just had to see it. It couldn't be something terrible, unless its like a really bad author that could have him snubbed from the reading community but even then! Y/N doesn't know anything about good authors and bad authors, she wouldn't judge him for his book choice.

So she practically tiptoes to his corner, realizing then and only then that she's never once been in it before. Doesn't even think she's the one who cleans back there (so she's hoping its Niall, or Harry's been breathing in a solid six months worth of dust), making it feel kind of naughty...like she might be going into his room without permission. Maybe that's why she holds her breath the whole time she's in the corner, conjuring up excuses in the back of her mind just in case he does show back up for it. They close in 25 minutes though so she doesn't think he'd even be able to surprise her if he tried.

The hardbound book has no cover, the blank binding a rosy red color. On the spine the titles golden letters were sort of flaked off at certain spots so she presumes its old – maybe a library book? Or one he's had for a very long time. She reaches out to touch it with a cautious hesitance like it might bite her, the tips of her fingers reaching out to trace over the edges carefully.

Something hits the back of her head. Her hand snatches away from the book as she whips around to see Niall still standing behind the counter and a misplaced bag of Doritos lying at her feet. Hurry up he mouths at her.

Shooting him a pointed glare, Y/N turns back to the book with a new found confidence knowing that Niall was watching and judging her every move. She makes a grab for the book, pulls the front cover open slowly.

Delta of Venus

Delta of what-a?

Pouting, her brows furrow, snapping the book shut and tucking it beneath her armpit as she grabs for his cheesy fries and upturned water. Was he reading Greek Mythology or something? Why was he so ashamed of that?

As she tosses them in the trash, she decides she'll Google it once she gets home. Hopefully that'll shed some light on a very confusing, dimly lit situation she's facing.

. . .

After she's convinced Niall to bugger off, that she was going to do some research and see what it was about then report back to him, she hurries home. Doesn't even bother to stop for food, persuaded herself that a tube of Pringles and a few cookies were a suitable dinner so she could get home quicker to see what kind of books Harry was always shoving his nose into. Even showers the quickest she has in a while, shoving her arms into a big, worn t-shirt that 100% wasn't hers (she has no clue who it belonged to) and pulling some panties up in a haste, snatching the chips from the small cupboard she had with her tiny kitchenette.

On her way to her desk she nearly trips over herself, opening up her computer to boot it up and grabbing for the book she left haphazardly on the bed. Her plan was to tell him he left it, return it to him graciously, and suggest that she had heard good things about the book so he wouldn't be so shy about it. Can't imagine what would be so embarrassing about the book anyways, typing in the title into the search bar. Clicks the first link that shows up and...

Oh.

Oh.

Harry was reading Erotica. A proper filthy, smutty book. A poetic one, but smutty nonetheless.

Y/N picks it up, thumbs through the pages quickly and catches little post-its with Harry's cute script on them. Little annotations; comments and ideas for...for his own writings, if she's understanding correctly. It would make sense, considering he wouldn't dare leave his journal unaccounted for at anytime, during anything. That journal is the first thing he picks up when she finds him on campus to go to his apartment, and the first thing he sets down on the table before setting the TV remote atop of it.

So that was it? The big secret Harry's been hiding from her and just about everyone else who is curious enough to know what he reads? There's no way she would've guessed it, what with Harry being all timid and sweet all the time. Sure, she feels bad for going behind his back to figure this one out, but its really not terrible at all. Actually, Y/N thinks of all things its kind of hot. Maybe he was some sort of sex god, but he just wasn't letting her in on it.

Absently, as she continues flicking through the pages she wonders what Harry's writing might be like. If it's as poetic as this Anaïs Nin is or if it's more blunt and straight forward, describing everything in each nitty gritty detail, from the color of the head to the feel of being inside someone. Wonders if he focuses on feelings or quick fucks, if he posts them anywhere or if it's just for him, if he bases them off real life experiences or just little fantasies he's got.

Y/N sighs, leaning back in her seat and twisting herself back and forth slowly, the book open and pressed down onto her lap. She'll never know if she doesn't bring this up to him, which would be a whole different fish to fry – his cheeks would go redder than raspberries. Wouldn't put it past him to hide within the depths of his cardigan and never come out again.

She'll just have to come across it gently, she supposes.

. . .

"I know you write smut."

Okay, okay, she could've been gentler.

But god could anyone blame her? She'd been thinking about it all night and all day, so she texted him about coming over to read together – that she would bring jam tarts (which she did) and he'd sent her a big smiley face in return (which made her feel guilty). So she walked over to his house with the book clutched to her chest, a box of special jam tarts from the bakery (it was a sure trek from campus to there but Harry had said that these were his favorite once upon a time and she wanted to spoil him), prepping herself for the conversation soon to come.

Harry is standing in light pink shirt and a big knit cardigan just as she'd expected with jeans tight to his legs, wide-eyed and obviously startled with his door swung all the way open. Daisy sits at his feet quietly but still looking just as shocked, staring at her with unblinking black globes.

"I –" she squeezes her eyes shut, holding out the book in front of her, "You left it when you ran out and I picked it up. There was no cover to it and I'm nosy so I flicked through the pages and. . ." she trails off, wiggling the book because he hadn't taken it from her grasp yet and he was supposed to, "... You don't have to be ashamed of it with me! Um, I used to do a lot of smut reading when I had the chance to 'cos it was always sort of interesting, so like I get it, and I think it's interesting n' cool that you write it and read it, that's pretty...pretty nice." Y/N feels like she's bombing a presentation, "And I'll keep is a secret, I promise."

Things are quiet for a while after that. Y/N can't bare to open her eyes fully and look at him, the silence cutting through her like a dull knife. She expected him to be shocked, of course, but she hadn't expected him to be completely silent. When she starts thinking about pivoting on her heel to run out of there, Harry starts to talk, his voice low.

"You – you really don't think its weird?"

Y/N peeks one eye open, the other still skewered shut. His gaze wails worry, his two front teeth dug deep into his bottom lip, nails biting into the palm of his hand twisted into nervous fist. Shaking her head quickly, she opens her other eye, "No! Not at all. Everyone has their thing and –"

"I don't just do it to do it!" He cuts her off, the hand on the door knob squeezing it so it jiggles some, "I mean, it's my job kind of, s'how I'm getting through school."

"Even better! Listen," she takes a step forward, reaching out for his wrist and running a gentle thumb beneath his fingers so he unfurls his fist so she can wedge the book into his hand, "Harry, of all people you should know that I wouldn't judge you. You're amazing, really, and something like this isn't going to scare me off. You don't have to hide this part of you from me. I really don't mind it if you don't."

He still looks a bit distressed, the skin of his face burning hot with embarrassment and Y/N feels terrible for putting him on the spot like this. So she comforts him in the only real way she knows how to...its what she did for the girls at parties who drank a little too much and got all teary eyed, telling her their life story because she was the only one remotely sober enough to listen, and it always seemed to work then. She didn't think it should be any different.

Carefully, she slips both of her arms beneath his, pulling his torso into hers for a tight hug. Her face is more or less smushed into his chest but she doesn't mind it. Harry is warm compared to the brisk autumn air previously nipping at her skin and he smells like a chai latte and chocolate. His heartbeat is loud, thumping hard against his chest like a timpani to her ear. He feels quite muscular too, beneath his clothes, and for a moment she wonders what he might look like shirtless but her thoughts are quickly squashed as two arms wound around her body; an unspoken thank you.

Harry hugs her closely to him, his cheek pressed to the side of her head. She feels him inhale deeply, letting the breath go slowly from the bottom of his lungs up. Y/N notices it's something he does often when he's unknotting, mostly before they begin reading or before he starts to tell a story. It seems to mean he's fully relaxing with her and that just floods her with so much joy that she accidentally squeezes him tighter.

"Okay," Y/N begins when they finally part, hands clapping down onto either of his shoulders, "I've got some jam tarts with your name on them and I'm jus' itching to read chapter 18. Can I come in?"

With a grin tugging at his mouth, Harry nods.

. . .

Jam tart crumbs are scattered on both of their laps, fingers sticky with the apple filling that either of them lick off the skin. Upon her knew discovery Harry allows her to do some digging; gentle prying into his world of smutty writings and books. In the beginning, in quite the Harry fashion, he was a bit shy...twiddling his fingers together, twisting them up in the sleeves of his cardigan, avoiding eye contact as much as he were able, cheeks a permanent state of a pale rose. As their conversation continued and Harry realized that this fact about him perturbs her none, he becomes more open to talking about it. Answers more confidently than his previous meek mannered replies.

She learns a lot in the two hours they spend on it. Like how Harry posts them online under a pseudo name and people pay to read them (a really large amount of people too – so each story he posts could easily make him somewhere in the hundreds) and he started doing it at the end of his freshman year sometime after reading Love is A Dog from Hell by Bukowski. Y/N asks him if those kind of books are the only ones he reads and he's quick to say no, that other than the suspense ones he reads with hers he reads a lot of romance novels, some horror novels as well, historical too if he's feeling particularly scholarly. That he reads smut mostly when he's searching for inspiration and trying out new writing styles, but as of late he's been reading quite a lot (she doesn't ask why).

Y/N asks if his journal is full of his writings and Harry tells her it is, from smut to poems to just little thoughts he's had and ideas for other things. She'd very much like to see it but she doesn't push – that's his thing and she's already been invited in to learning so much about him, there's no way she could ask him for that.

By the end of their conversation, two things are established: Harry doesn't have to worry about writing and reading it while Y/N is around, and Y/N would gladly keep his secret for him.

Ultimately it makes her feel closer to him – it's why now she just about jumps across the couch to give him a tight squeezing hug, pressing a big kiss to his cheek with a loud and obnoxious smack. "M'just so happy!" She just about squealed, "We're best friends now for sure, okay?" And when Harry let two moon crater like dimples dent his cheeks as he nodded, she felt like her heart might burst.

"It feels really good to talk about it with someone," he responds, curling his arms around her for the second time that night and again Y/N begins to appreciate the feeling of his muscles, biting the inside of her lip as to stop herself from saying anything dumb, "Like – like it's relieving almost. Thank you for being so great about it you're just..." he sighs, squeezes her a little tighter to him and butterflies rupture from the pit of her stomach and flutter throughout her whole body – its so nice, being this close to him. Wishes she could hug him all the time, really, being pressed up to his warm body enveloped within his sweater covered arms feels too good for her to just have on occasions. It feels safe there...she feels happiest there, she's starting to think, and this is only the second time he's hugged her. "You're great. You really are the best friend I have right now, if not the only true one."

She decides she's going to milk this for all its worth, nestling a little closer into his neck, giving an content huff, "Ahh, you're he sweetest Harry. Love ya to bits I do."

They stay like that for a while, enjoying the contact either one of them provides. Y/N doesn't know when the last time Harry had cuddled someone was but the last time she'd even remotely snuggled up to someone (other than a particularly cuddly Daisy) is when she and her friend Haylee had to bunk together on the couch and woke up flopped over one another. So it was nice...even more so now that it was a soft, snuggly Harry whose heartbeat begins calming to a normal pace as the longer they stay like this. "You're a good hugger." Y/N tells him, sinking further into his body and deciding to close her eyes just for a moment.

Just for a moment until she's slipping further and further into a dream.

. . .

Harry thinks he might have a problem.

A really, really, really big problem.

Currently he's feeling pleasantly cozy, full of sweets, snug in his favorite corner of the couch, in his favorite cardigan but his mind his reeling. Like a zoetrope off its hinges; a mess of overthinking and small bouts of panic as he realizes the reality and depth of his situation currently, and can't decipher whether it is good or bad. He thinks its good but he also has the tendency to be wrong, so he can't be so sure.

What could plague him with such an inner turmoil? Well, it may or may not have everything to do with the girl passed out in his lap, with her arms wrapped around him and his own still holding her near, like she might float away. Easy breaths coming from soft lips that he bets taste like candies and a soothed brow telling just how happily comfortable she feels. She smells like something of autumn leaves and caramel; reminds him of every Ed Sheeran song, gives his fingers an itchy feeling to start documenting this very moment – he'd remember this smell forever.

It felt too good to be true, that's why Harry's mind had fermented this chaos of thoughts. The girl he'd been quietly crushing on ever since he stepped foot into that sticky, disorderly child screaming fest of a roller rink, now asleep against his chest. Asleep on his chest, even when knowing that he writes smut and reads it and she doesn't think he's a creep or anything. Actually made him embrace it...made him feel proud when she gushes about how he's an honest to goodness writer who has people who love his work and buy it.

Harry looks down at her face looking innocently unguarded and at ease. He moves hair from her cheeks attentively, before he allows himself to cradle it in the palm of his hand, caressing her plush bottom lip. Firmly does Harry believe that Y/N's just too bloody cute for her own good and its almost annoying in a way. Like who gives her the right to be so delightfully endearing that he's left hopelessly enamored? To inundate his thoughts with her and only her? To take his breath away at the mere sight of her in something that even remotely resembles one of his sweaters?

These feelings might be one thing if he knew how to properly deal with them but he doesn't. Harry wouldn't say he's introverted – far from it, actually – he can just see through people's faulty facades as to who they really are and what they really wanted from him. He wasn't an idiot, he knew what Meredith and Angel were after and it surely wasn't his personality. Time and time again Harry had been roped into a fuck, begged to stay for a cuddle, and left alone in an unfamiliar room as their silent way of requesting he leave without the awkward conversation afterwards. Everyone presumes he's some hopeless romantic who wouldn't leave him alone but in all honesty, he felt nothing more for those girls than a gumdrop of lust and that's where it ended (and the same people who worried he'd follow them like a lovesick puppy often looked disappointed when he didn't). They all want someone who doesn't know their worth so they dote on them, chase after them, beg for their attention and when Harry doesn't pull through, they ignore him.

But Y/N was different. As clichéd as it is for that one person to be just different than all the rest, she undeniably was. Something in how almost immediately he relaxes when she's around (he could be taut as elastic being stretched to the max but as soon as she's plopped herself down besides him, all his muscles forget why they were so tight anyways) or how she's able to drag information out of him effortlessly (about himself, sometimes about things that might ruin a TV show for her which he's always reluctant on doing but she manages to pull it from him – he thinks she has a career in interrogating if se wants it). In how she is pleasantly sweet like honey when she wants to be but could get fired up in a classy crescendo that has Harry hooked on every single word she's more or less huffing out angrily (it's normally about a book character but he thinks she could probably run for president with how easy she hooks him onto her side). In how she makes scrubbing the soda out of the carpets and scraping gum off the undersides of tables and wiping away grubby fingered stains off joysticks on arcade machine games look so incredibly breathtaking.

In how she finds out his secret, promises him it doesn't make her see him differently and promptly hugs him until she falls asleep atop of his body.

Harry isn't sure how long he's been staring at her. Just knows that'd it'd been long enough for him to zone out as her sleep became fitful and she began shuffling and waking, blinking open heavy lids before a pout draws her bottom lip outward. He holds his breath as he watches her come to fully, even loosening his arms from around her as she begins to press herself up, "Are you okay?"

"My neck," she grumbles, rubbing at it, "Sore."

He digs his fingers into the couch besides him to stop a coo from leaving his mouth as he watches her knuckle her eyes. Sleepy Y/N being resorted to caveman esque grouses has just permanently weaseled her way into his heart, along side every other amazingly endearing thing about her.

Clearing his throat, he murmurs, "We can go up to my bed if you want?"

The offer is one Harry doesn't think he's ever made to someone (if they'd even somehow managed to get to his house – he doesn't invite many people over at all) and it leaves him anxious for her response. Nails biting into his palm as he wonders if it was too much. If he should pretend to reiterate the fact that it was just her who was going to be sleeping in the bed despite him not saying it in the first place. Maybe he should've just offered her some ibproufen, or a ride home, or something that didn't sound like it had ulterior motives behind it.

But Y/N nods, face still pinched with discomfort as she flops herself back into him, leading to a big umf from his part as she settles back into his body. Her words muffled by his chest but he can just barely make out, "Carry me."

A chuckle bubbles from his chest, eyes rolling as he maneuvers her so she's easier to gather up in his arms. Y/N's body amenable to anyway he moves it, leaning into him and letting herself be lifted up. Harry only has to reposition her once, giving her a small toss so she lands back more securely in his grip before heading for his stairs. This is the first time he thinks he's had anybody up in his room apart from him, which is a weird thought kind of. The only girl to have been in this room is Daisy and she's a dog, so a bubble of nervousness wells up inside of him.

Until he realizes Y/N's asleep and probably couldn't give a rat about the quality of his room.

So he takes her directly to the bed, peeling back the covers of his plush white comforter and setting her on the bed. Y/N makes small little annoyed noises as he shuffles her beneath it entirely, tucking it around her shoulders before taking off his glasses to set them on the nightstand and climbing in besides her. Harry presumes that both of them would stay on their respective sides and he would spend the majority of his night praying in his sleep that he wouldn't try to cuddle her, so waking up would be awkward.

That is until he feels a body pressing close to him and he turns his head to see Y/N with squinted eyes glaring at him, "Cuddle me, then. S'too cold in your house." She paws at his bicep with her palms before he lifts it up, a grin spreading wide on his face as she tucks herself into his side like its her home. Like she's always been meant to be there, and with how sentimental Harry's been feeling tonight he's starting to think that she just might be.

With a small, content little sigh, Y/N's breathing evens out back to gentle puffs.

Harry closes his eyes and holds her nearer.

His dreams are merry-go-rounds of he and Y/N, with big foaming colorful bubbles, floating on clouds made of purple cotton candy.

. . .

When Y/N opens her eyes that next morning, a small bead of panic drips over her. She's in a room she's never been in before, with an arm wrapped securely around her waist holding her to someone's body and gentle breaths hitting the back of her neck. The stranger was very cozy at least.

Sleep makes her vision foggy as she slowly comes to and with a deep inhale through her nose she recognizes the scent to be Harry's. It eases the nerves that had built up in her few moments of consciousness as she begins to remember how she might've ended up here – only vague flickers of memory on falling asleep in his lap, waking up with a sore neck and being taken up the stairs.

As she looks around she takes it all in. The walls are decorated here and there with artsy pictures, paintings that she wonders if he'd done, pieces of what looks to be repurposed paper with pretty script. The ceiling fan is of nonmoving glossy wood, a light and switches that make it look like a caterpillar's face from this angle. His bed is pressed up in the corner up against the wall, a large shaggy rug that covered a majority of the floor, a laptop sitting forgotten atop of it. He has a nice desk too, books scattered atop of it, binders, more journals, pens and highlighters just about everywhere. She's lying on a mountain of pillows too, she finds.

It's cute and cozy; Y/N thinks she'd rather live here than her stuffy little dorm.

She begins to sit up so she could take a look behind them but the arm around her waist tightens considerably, a nuzzling at her neck that makes her pause, "Don' get up yet," Harry murmurs behind her, his accent thicker from sleep and slower than molasses, "Five mo' minu'es please."

Y/N settles back down into him, a smile tickling at her mouth as he tugs her closer.

"Thank you." Harry hums, sighing happily.

Y/N's pretty sure she feels her heart leap.

. . .

"So what is he always reading?" Niall asks again the next night she's at work.

Crouching beneath one of the round tables several teenagers had been crowding with an old black paint scraper, Y/N's raking gum from beneath it onto a thick piece of cardboard.

She shakes her head.

"Just romance novels."

Niall hikes himself up onto the table she's beneath, making the boards shift beneath his weight and giving her a startling few moments of worry that it might break.

"Ah," he murmurs, "So he's a hopeless romantic. I knew it."

. . .

Two weeks later Y/N couldn't help but notice how unnaturally mopey and grumpy Harry had come to be as of late. At first she thought that maybe it had been a bad day – even the sweetest of people have bad days – but when a bad day turns into a bad three days, and he's in a pout on his couch even when she brings apple cinnamon filled jam tarts over, she confronts it. Sits before him as he's sat on the couch, between his parted legs with her elbow to his thigh propping her face up. "Why so glum sugar plum?"

A blush paints his face; licked onto his cheek by the fact she's in a very compromising and provocative position, but she hadn't been thinking about it like that. Was only trying to slide herself into his line of sight so he'd have to look at her. Though she will admit that sitting between his legs was a rather nice place to be.

"S'just," he begins, brow wrinkled with frustration, "I'm stuck on a part I'm writing. Have had to scrap a dozen drafts of it and they're expecting it to be published by next Monday but it just won't come out right." Carding anxious fingers through his recently shampooed fluffy hair, Harry lets out something short of a disheartened moan, "Sorry it's made me all obnoxiously gloomy, I just hate when I can't...you know... get it out right."

Y/N nods understandingly, knowing from mock ups of essays that just weren't hitting and short stories in Creative Writing that refused to hit it off. It gets irritating when you can see something in your head yet translating it into something tangible and not disorganized blurb-like thoughts isn't working. It's why she's eager to help him, leaning back on the haunches of her feet.

"What part are you stuck at? Maybe I could give you an idea or two!"

A puffed laugh comes short from his nose as he takes off his glasses, rubbing tiredly at one eye, "Unless you can go into in depth detail on someone's reactions during being eaten out the first time, then I don't know how much help you'll be able to give." He utters, "I normally write off experience – at least with the sexual bits – but I've never eaten out someone who hasn't had it done to them before."

Something akin to a tingle trickles down Y/N's abdomen at the mention of Harry doing something like that. She knows he's no virgin – he'd said so himself to her – but the idea of him with his face placed between two quivery thighs holding him there makes her equal parts jealous and bothered all hot in places unseen to him (like beneath her cotton kiwi printed panties). Maybe that's why she says what she does next, shifting to her knees.

"Easy, I've never been eaten out," she tells him, keeping her tone as casual as she could, "I could go...you know, Niall's probably looking for an excuse to bury his face into someone so I could tell you all my thoughts and whatnot after."

A pout forms on Harry's mouth, "That would do no good, I'd need to see and hear it in real time. I'd might as well lick you out myself and get better results."

They both blink at each other, either of them realizing the weight of his words as Y/N squeezes her thighs together unintentionally. Y/N's fingers dig into the dark washed denim stretched across his thigh, pulling her lips into her mouth before popping them out with a sound that feels like it's echoing throughout the room. "Well then," she can't believe she's about to say what she's about to say, but it's easy with Harry...it's always been easy with Harry so without one more thought about it she continues, "Why don't you have at me?"

"Wha – what?" He sits up straighter, leaning forward, "Y/N –"

"I mean you don't have to if you don't want! It's just an idea," she answers, "I just – I thought it might help. What better way to know what the girl is thinking than having the girl describe it to you exactly as it's happening?" She scoots back some, his gaze burning holes into her that make her doubt her idea had been good at all. "I wanted to help, is all, maybe it wasn't a great idea."

When Harry doesn't respond Y/N presumes she's disgusted him with the thought...she's merely a friend; someone who requests he reads to her because she can't be arsed to do it herself and crams sweets and goodies down both of their throats, works at a roller rink, never lets him just take his cheesy fries and go. So she begins to back off a bit, shuffling backwards so she can stand up and make a run for it, probably. Doesn't think she could look at him after this ever again for the rest of her life after she's turned him completely off.

But before she can get too far Harry grabs at her wrist with his spidery long fingers wrapping around it entirely. Stops her completely, "Y/N," he repeats, running his tongue over his strawberry pith lips, "That's an amazing idea but I don't know if you realize...if you're okay with this...are you okay with me being your first doing that?"

She nods quickly, "I don't think I'd trust anybody more."

For a moment Harry closes his eyes, like he might be trying to regain his composure and when Y/N lets her eyes flutter down to his crotch she sees where his cock is filling. A growing bump pressed to the zip of his all too tight jeans that left very little to not see. She averts her gaze before he can open his eyes to see her staring.

"Okay, come with me."

After a bit of fumbling, Y/N is on Harry's bed for the second time, her head pressed into the pillows as Harry helps her wiggle from her pants. Tossing them off the side of the bed unceremoniously, sat on his knees besides her legs and giving her a quick once over – Y/N can tell he's biting the inside of his lip and she wonders if he's as anxious as she is for it. Sure he's eaten someone out before but it was known from the get go that his intent was sexual with those people...Y/N is his friend. Does he think she'll act weird after? She won't...she knows it's probably all she'll be able to think about for a while but she won't make it awkward between them. Won't expect anything more than right now, because she's helping.

And god dammit, nobody could ever say Y/N's not charitable.

"I'm going to ask you some questions throughout all of this, okay? Just so I can better understand how you're feeling and what you like. And I need you to be honest with me, even if it's embarrassing." He's confident in his words, more lax as he begins taking charge, "The part I'm writing is from the woman's perspective so I'll have to pick your brain a bit. You understand and are okay with that, yes?"

Y/N nods.

"Say it aloud, Pet."

She feels heat flush over, flooding her body with pin prickled warmth because wow. That's new...that's really new, and really nice, she likes how it sounds out of his mouth. Likes how borderline demanding it feels – how he's waiting patiently for her response, no trace of nerves at any part of him, which surprises her in the best way. Harry always looks a bit nervous, even if its underlying, so when nothing covers him but unwavering confidence like this it makes her heart drum hard against her chest.

"I understand, yeah, and I'm okay with it." She answers, voice holding no dither yet still a bit breathy.

Harry nods and begins to shift himself – lifts up her leg to dip beneath it so he's sat up between her thighs and the view is quite remarkable, really. The fairy lights in his room twinkle off is sea green marble irises, inducing a sharp shiver from her. A comforting smile works its way onto his mouth as he slowly spreads her thighs completely, a hand on either knee with a careful thumb rubbing circles into the thin skin. "How are you feeling right now?"

"Good," Y/N answers, though she considers it for a few seconds, "Nervous, but good. Kind of tingly."

"Where are you tingly?" He presses, fingers skimming down against the inside of her thighs. Goosebumps rise by the hundreds in his wake as he does so, drawing back up and going back down in long drawn out grazes from the very tips of his fingers.

Y/N shuffles and shifts, the muscles in her thigh tensing up as he continues, "All over but it's like...like centralizing in my lower belly. Its always like this when I get...well, you know." Harry raises his eyebrows, insinuating that he didn't know even though she knows that he most certainly did. Y/N would've never pinned Harry to be such a teasing type – thought he'd might've been all timid and quiet and she'd have to run the show, but he's showing that he very well knew what he was doing, "Like before I touch myself."

"Ahh," Harry hums with a nod, though it sounds borderline mocking, his left hand leaving her thigh and touching at her lower stomach, palm warm and fingers stretched wide across the soft skin there, "So you feel it right here, yeah? Does it get more intense when you're ready to cum?"

A wetness pools into her panties – she hopes he can't see it, "Mhm," she says once again, "I'm a bit – I'm a bit worried too."

A pout presses at his mouth, forehead crinkling, "What's there to be worried about, Darling?" His hand retreats from her stomach and rejoins with his other, the both of their fingers now fiddling with the edges of her panties. Close, very close, too close to where she would like him to be. This feeling burns beneath her skin like a wildfire, building and building, making her feel helplessly needy and Harry's doing a damn good job of making her wait for it. Even though she was probably ready for him to bury his face in her as soon as she'd offered it.

"I want you to like it," the truth falls from her lips without her say, "Worried I might not taste good or smell good and ...well, nobody's done this for me before. I've never tasted myself or anythin' either so like... I don't know," her chest rises in a staccato huff, "It's an annoying feeling. I don't like worrying about things."

Harry nods like he understands, plucking at the waistband of her banana printed underwear and letting it snap back in place, "You don't have to be nervous with me," he reassures her, beginning to bend down, scooting himself backwards so he can be face to face to where she's already feeling a bit drippy, "M'gonna take care of you, okay?" He slides an arm around her thigh, bringing it towards his mouth and leaving a wet kiss at the inside of it, dragging a gasp from her, "And I'm certain I'll enjoy it."

He leans in closer, using the broad of his tongue to stroke up the center of her panties, from where her wet is beginning to soak through all the way up to her clit. She wasn't expecting it – her fingers dig into the sheets, feet going a bit pigeon toed on the mattress, "Ah!"

A chuckle leaves him, warm air washing over her and she'd never realized how thin this pair of underwear was until now when it feels like she can feel it like there was nothing separating them at all, "Did I surprise you?"

"Yes!" She squeaks out, "I wish you would just get on with it already."

Looking up between her legs, he grins, "You're taking the whole being honest thing to heart aren't you, Love?" She nods, "So you're nervous and a little worried, but you still want it badly? Is the thought of my tongue on you exciting?"

Y/N knows – she knows that he's asking all these questions so he knows exactly what to write, but the dirty talk is really stirring some things up inside of her. Makes her want it even more . . .makes her even greedier. The nerves are still prevalent but above all she is horny and ready and she wants him to just do it.

"Yes it is exciting," she grumbles, "And you're embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed," he sighs, turning his head and sucking a wet kiss onto her thigh, "You're so cute, s'driving me insane."

With this, Harry pulls her panties off to the side, digs his tongue to the hole of her cunt and licks up to the swollen bud of her clit. Y/N gasps again, her bum pressing down hard into the mattress as she curls up into herself but Harry doesn't allow it. Starts where she's wet and licks back up in one slick, slow glide before puckering around her clit and giving a good suckle just to release it with a soft pop moments later.

She's biting down hard on her ample bottom lip, so hard that she thinks she might draw blood as she swallows down each moan and whimper. Y/N can't even bare to look down at him – to where he's licking so fervently between her slippery folds, sparking feelings that she's not even able to describe with words. His tongue is warm and wet and feels so nice against her, and he's licking everywhere – finding spots that she didn't even know felt good until now.

It startles fireworks in her belly, as he finally slips her panties off of her legs. Helps unhook them from around her ankle and tossing them to the same fate as her pants (useless on the ground), before dipping back in and returning his arms around her thighs. Caresses the dip of her hip with a few fingers while she feels his eyes stare into her, she imagines to remember every detail and every quickened breath so he can form it into words, "How're you feeling? D'ya like it?" Y/N nods, turning her head into the mountain of pillows besides her, "C'mon Poppet, you've gotta use your words."

"It feels good," she keens as he sucks a kiss onto the apex of her inner thigh, "It's really warm and wet I – I really like it."

She's been resorted to breathless pants, squeezing her eyes shut tightly, "Why won't you look at me?" He asks next and when she doesn't immediately respond, he gives one small flick of his tongue to the hood of her clit before abandoning it. Makes her hips chase after him with an involuntary buck. "Maybe if you'd respond, I would keep going Pet."

"Can't look," she responds, "It'll be too much seeing you...I might – I might cum really fast, I'm sorry."

Harry gives another warm laugh, low and close and she clenches, "Tha's kinda the point, Poppet. Want you to cum," he reaches two fingers to his mouth, sucks on them for a second before lowering it down to her clit and rubbing slow, slicked circles into the swollen button, "Wanna feel it...wanna know I made you feel good." His fingers move faster, her toes clenching so hard she feels they might cramp up, "So c'mon and look at me."

Trembling, Y/N's nails dig into her palms and it's only then she realizes she'd thrown an arm over her eyes. She moves it out of the way, blinking them open and letting them adjust to the dim lighting in the room. Harry catches her gaze, locking onto it and making sure she stayed looking at him as he leans in, draws her clit into his mouth and sucks. His lips are puckered plum around it, his spit dribbles down her slit, he's popping off and licking deeper and deeper and all the while she's staring into two bright green eyes.

"G'na cum," she whimpers, "I'm gonna – Harry you're g'na make me cum."

A warning, and a fair one at that, Harry drags himself away and reveals a sticky chin as his fingers reappear on her bud rubbing in sloppy strokes, "S'feel good? Am I making you feel good?"

"So good," she shakes, "So, so, so good, thank you." Her back arches, pushing her hips back towards his mouth, and with a smile Harry delves back in.

With a few more licks, a tonguing and suck to her clit, and his hands grazing up from her soft sides to cup around her breasts and give them a sure squeeze – Y/N's cumming. It's like a rubber band being pulled just to the brink of snapping, Harry's mouth like scissors to snip right in middle and send either side flying. Or the swell of an ocean wave just before it finally flows over, the white foaming bubbles forming as it goes to its peak and splashes down into the grainy sands and shells of the beach. It feels like everything that builds and builds to a peak before finally tipping over the edge...it's good, and satisfying, and tiring.

Y/N feels boneless after, her mind floaty and fizzy and just about certain Harry is some undercover sex god. Barely making out that Harry leaves the room and returns soon after with a damp washcloth. He pushes her softened thighs back open to wipe her up, pulls the blanket folded at the end of his bed up and over to cover her, "You–" she begins, looking down at where his cock is bulging from his pants, looking as if it might burst through the denim. He's got his knees astride her right leg, which she lifts just a bit so she puts pressure on the bump and Harry trembles – a hand dropping down to her knee and squeezing it.

"M'fine Darling, you look so tired, couldn't ask you to do anything." He reassures her as he moves to drop down besides her in his own breathless heap lying on his side but she hardly thinks it's fair. Knows this was for educational purposes or whatever, but the thought of Harry aching only spurs her onto her side, pulling her leg from the covers and fitting her thigh between both of his. She anchors herself on his shoulders, pushing up and flexing her thigh so she rubbed up against the bump again. An abrupt whimper shakes through him.

"Want you to get off too – s'not fair that I got to." She's still a bit breathless, reaching down and fiddling with the button of his jeans until it pops open and she pulls he zip down over his prick. Slides her hand past the waistband so she can wrap her fingers around his stiff cock. Harry is a full, heavy weight in her hands, with his tip already drippy and she pumps him the best she can from this angle. Tries not to pay attention to the burning embers being stoked back to life with each panted moan he gives and each small buck of his hips as he works himself against her palm.

When Harry cums, Y/N thinks its the prettiest thing she's ever seen. A groan coming from two lips bitten swollen, spurting over her hand messily, a hand at her hip squeezing grape sized marks into the supple skin. Skin flushed red, hair clinging to his forehead from sweat, eyes brighter than she's ever seen them before.

Once he finally comes down and wills himself back up, he returns in new boxers and another wet wash cloth, wiping off Y/N's hand of his cum. He drops back down besides her, in an even more of a panting, breathless heap than before.

"Did I help?" She asks him.

"Yes, so much more than you could even imagine. Did you like it?" His voice is softer than it had been; he's reverted back to his gingerly tender side in the matter of seconds.

Harry's so beautiful, Y/N thinks he may have been sculpted by gods. Staring at him so up close makes her head spin even more than it already was, whether it be the jutting lines of his jaw or the soft curves of his cheek.

"Mhm," she hums, wiggling a little closer to him as she feels sleep crawling at the edges of her vision, "Maybe – maybe if you want it real sweet you could add a cuddling scene," she murmurs, already slipping away, "T'a help, I'll show you how to cuddle."

The last thing Y/N hears before she finally succumbs to sleep, is another low and sweet laugh and the last thing she feels is an arm looping around her waist to snuggle her nearer.

. . .

As the days grow shorter and colder, and the trees are but the vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows of a glittering fire, Y/N and Harry grow closer and closer. Cuddling is like second nature now; Harry reads with Y/N's head in his lap, or with her cheek smushed up against his chest, or her body just flopped across him. Spending the night wasn't just a once in a while occurrence, as it seemed every night she went over there she'd end up asleep on his couch and later coaxed upstairs by a gentle Harry to his room. Waking up with Harry is like a dream, she finds, because in the rare times she's rouses from sleep before him Y/N gets to stare all she wants at his soft, slumber stricken face. Can trace and outline to her heart's content and at this point she thinks she'd be able to draw it by memory (if she could draw) or even write deep piano ballads or sonnets just about the mole near his mouth, or a specific freckle on his cheek she likes to think is noticed by only her.

She's pretty sure Harry eating her out for his book had only brought them that much closer. There's not much talk about it after the fact but things aren't weird between them. Every so often Y/N will make a comment about his sudden cocky dominance that overtook him and Harry merely flushes and pouts at her though that's the extent of it really. The aftermath of it, however, only suited for Y/N falling deeper and deeper into a pit of love that Harry dug himself.

They aren't together but they might as well be at this point; the only thing missing from this to make it a proper relationship were kisses and Y/N doesn't like that she's being deprived of them. Harry's kept the pet names going (and to be fair, she also started using endearments), they've started to cook dinner together, and now when Harry comes to the roller rink he doesn't even bother to go sit in the corner in read. He'll either sit with her and Niall and talk (Niall admits that there are quite a few people who are jealous he and Y/N get to see this side of him, to which Harry gets all sheepish and tells him, "Oh no they aren't. M'nothing special." And it takes everything in Y/N not to tell him that he is something very, very, very special) or he'll help them with small things around the roller rink (Bill managed to get Mono in Colorado so they've had nobody around to fix anything at all, but it turns out Harry can be quite handy when he wants to be).

Harry's lost his filter with her too – as the days go by he's less timid and shy around her (only when Niall pops his face in but even then he's far less meek than he had been), talks louder, touches her more often, even initiates the cuddles sometimes out of his own free will (and Y/N had just started to think she was forcing him into them, but one night while they were indulging in Pretty Little Liars, Y/N had been on the other side of the couch and Harry had grabbed her by the ankle and unceremoniously dragged her closer to him until she got the point that he wanted her to nestle into his side). Y/N finds Harry's playful as ever, his humor is a little dry but still good, and sometimes he laughs so hard that no noise but little squeaks come out and it only shoves her deeper down that pit.

She likes him a lot; doesn't even bother denying it when Niall gushes about how she's all heart eyes for the "mildly introverted cheesy fry loving bookworm" because its true. Y/N's just positively smitten with Harry Styles.

All of these feelings are swelling inside of her as she closes up the roller rink for the night. Harry had stayed behind with her while Niall went home – something about freshening up for a date with a cute brunette he's been chasing after – and he was just talking. A ton of mindless dribble about how he prefers apple juice boxes compared to the container now too since she's been around and how dried pear is surprisingly very good baked into a pie, that he'll give her a piece of when they get to her house. She just loves his voice. Knows she gets to listen to him read to her often anyways but there's something so soothing and pleasing to the ears about his slow, deep drawl that she'll never get used to. Y/N's sure she could listen to him talk forever.

She's just finished wiping down the soda machine when Harry calls to her directly, "Y/N?" Tossing the rag in their wash bin, she hums, turning to face him, "Can I admit something to you?"

"I knew it," she slaps her hand down on the counter, "You've been using me to get to Niall haven't you?"

Harry seems startled, only cracking a smile when Y/N's own mouth turns upward, "What? No!" He plays along.

"Of course, of course, I should've seen it coming," she swings the small half door open and steps through so she's on the same side of the counter as him, throwing her body across his limply so he'd have to wrap his arms around her waist to keep her standing. Her head is pressed to his shoulder as she attempts not to slide down, "Its his dreamy baby blue eyes, isn't it? Or those soft apple cheeks? Maybe his bum knee?"

"Hush, hush, hush!" Harry gives her a squeeze, fingers fiddling with the hem of her shirt as it rucks up, "I've finally worked up enough courage to say it but you're g'na get me all nervous."

That peaks Y/N's interest and makes her pulse quicken as she reaches up to pat at his cheek gently, "What is it then? Spill the goods."

For a moment he says nothing, like he's thinking out his words carefully and it leaves the room around them just quiet enough that Y/N can practically hear her own heart beat like a thousand kettledrums in sync. Harry's arms are still secure, looped over her waist and holding her near, almost like he wants to prevent her from looking at him.

"When I first came here it was 'cos I thought it'd be a nice place to read and I overheard some people saying how good the food is," he begins, his chin resting on the top of her head, a leg wrapping around her own to stop her from sliding down so quickly as he continues, "So I popped by and the cheesy fries were delicious but I hated reading here. Loathed it, really, the kids were always too loud and the corner I was in was never bright enough – also, there'd been so much dust over there I think you guys should invest in those feather dusters." Y/N's face pinches towards a frown, tilting up a bit and opening her mouth, about to ask him why he kept coming but Harry beats her to it, "But I kept coming because – well, because a really cute, vulgar girl made my cheesy fries and refused to bleach her asshole with a pleading blond bombshell," he jokes and Y/N giggles, her hands squeezing at the arm on her tummy, an exultant feeling tickling around her whole body, "And then that same cute girl ambushed me and some how weaseled by cardigan out of me on what might've been the chilliest day I've experienced –"

"Oi, you offered it!" She cuts him off, but he only begins rocking them back and forth.

"–then she found me at the library, somehow roped me into reading to her as well – a sneaky little thing she is – and now I'm just...well, I'm just positively smitten with her." He sighs dreamily, "So smitten that I had to tell her I like her entirely in her own third person."

Y/N struggles to wiggle in his hold so she can twist around to face him, her face gleaming with happiness and she sees Harry's cheeks have rosy-ed a considerable amount. Harry said he was smitten with her. Smitten! He called her cute and told her he was smitten in one of the cutest way possible, just like how he might read a story to her, and if her heart wasn't beating out of her chest before it certainly was now.

Up this close she can make out the golden flecks in his green irises twinkling like pieces of sun. Within them so many emotions swirl, from a nervous happiness to a contained excitement as Y/N grabs either one of his cheeks and plants a kiss write on his lips. Their mouths melding together so perfectly it's almost like their lips had been made just to match up with one another's and she finds they taste just as sweet as she'd imagined, as she tucks his bottom lip between hers and gives a subtle suck.

Harry's got a grip at the back of her shirt, while his other fingers dig into the flesh of her hip. It's grounding – keeps her from floating up to the ceiling as she kisses him. His lips are insistent, parting just to reattach gingerly, tilting his head to the right so he could press just a bit harder. Their noses nudging together slightly.

They only part when both of them are struggling for breath and Y/N is so giddy she can barely contain herself, draping him in a tight hug that he returns even tighter.

"I've got a confession too," she begins, murmuring into his neck, "I was major crushing on this cute boy who always ordered cheesy fries and a water then hid in a dusty corner. Then I made him read to me because I'm selfish and wanted to spend more time with him and I fell in love with his snorting, snoring pug called Daisy. And you wanna know the best part?"

"What's the best part?" Y/N can hear the smile in his voice.

"I'm just absolutely, positively smitten with him. With you."

Right here, in a 3 star reviewed roller rink, wrapped up in Harry's arms Y/N is certain of one thing.

She's never been happier.