Different 20 (HS) (Patreon)

Author's note: Hello everyone! I'm running a little bit late on posting. I've been studying for some tests. The good news is that I passed the last one! Thank you all for understanding and all your patience. 

word count: 4.0K

The heavy boughs of the evergreens were weighed down with fresh snow, and a biting wind kept pedestrians from lingering too long on the sidewalks. Downtown was a glowing postcard of winter; trees lining the streets were wrapped in twinkling lights, and the mountains—the very reason for the season’s crowd—loomed large in the distance. Even in the dark, the slopes were visible, illuminated by the bright, snaking lines of the night-skiing trails.

“Should we go find dinner? I’m starving.”

Sebastian had just finished unpacking. They had arrived at James’s place about thirty minutes ago, and everyone had claimed a room. James, naturally, had taken the master bedroom—it was his parents' house, after all—but he certainly hadn’t wasted any time inviting Sarah to join him.

“Me too. What’s good around here?” Sarah walked into the living room right behind him.

The house was expansive, yet managed to feel incredibly cozy. Built from redwood and grey brick, it balanced modern design with a rustic cabin feel—mostly because James’s mother wanted to maintain the same aesthetic as their home on the North Shore. Nearly every room had its own fireplace.

“Everything,” James said, flopping onto the couch across from Sarah with a smirk. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

Y/N appeared behind Sarah, resting her hands on the back of the sofa. “Jesus. Do you hear yourself? You sound like an absolute douche.”

Sebastian walked over to the fireplace, flipping the switch to ignite the gas flames, chuckling. “You really do, man.” He knew James liked Sarah and wanted to give her the world, but he was skirting the line of sounding desperate.

“Shut up.” James ran a hand over his chin, dismissing them. “In all seriousness, what are we eating?”

“Sushi, Italian, or steak?” Y/N asked.

Truthfully, Y/N would choose Italian over anything, but she didn’t want to dictate the choice. It was Harry and Sarah’s first time in Aspen, and she wanted them to have the full experience. After a few minutes of debating the merits of carbs versus raw fish, they settled on Italian.

James drove, while the rest of them leaned back in the heated seats, offering unsolicited commentary on his navigation skills.

The restaurant was intimate and dimly lit, the kind of place where tables were small and centered around flickering candles. It was upscale—heavy linen napkins and more silverware than strictly necessary—but the ambiance was undeniably romantic.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked Harry quietly as he scanned the menu.

“Just a bit tired.” He tried to reassure her with a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. It was a weak effort.

She leaned over, her hand coming up to caress his cheek before she carefully pushed a few stray locks of messy hair back from his forehead. Harry leaned into the touch, capturing her hand and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. He was always like this with her—gentle, careful. He treated her as if he were afraid she might break.

“We’ll eat and go back soon,” she promised.

She knew he hadn’t slept well in a long time. The nightmares were relentless lately, waking him up in a panic and keeping him up for hours. He nodded, his gaze dropping back to the menu to hide the fatigue in his eyes.

“What are you having?” Y/N asked the table, torn between the gnocchi and the mushroom ravioli.

“I’m getting the carbonara,” Sarah announced immediately.

“That’s actually really good here,” Y/N nodded. She had ordered it on a previous trip; the portion had been so massive she’d had to unbutton her jeans just to finish it, refusing to leave a single bite behind.

Dinner was exactly what they needed—warm, rich, and filling. They even ordered dessert, which only pushed them further into a heavy, comfortable food coma. By the time they left, James was fading fast, so Sebastian took the keys. The drive back up the winding, treacherous hill to the house required a little more focus than James currently had.

“Goodnight, guys,” James mumbled the second they walked through the door. He tossed the keys onto the entryway table and practically crawled toward the master bedroom.

Harry hadn’t said much all evening. Y/N assumed the fatigue was finally catching up to him, but exhaustion had nothing to do with it. He was just... observing. He’d spent the last few hours tracking her movements, drinking her in while she was distracted by the others. The words were there, sitting heavy on his tongue, but a crowded room wasn't the place to let them out. He loved her friends, sure, but that confession? That belonged to the quiet moments. He just needed to wait until they were alone.

He watched from the hallway as she reached up to hang her jacket in the closet by the entrance. As she stretched, her shirt rode up, exposing a strip of pale skin on her lower abdomen. Her hair had fallen over her face, her arms extended high above her head as she balanced herself with one hand against the doorframe. He loved watching her in these small moments, when she didn’t know his eyes were on her.

“Are you going to bed?” Her soft voice broke the silence, snapping him out of thoughts that, lately, were haunted only by her. “I was thinking of watching a movie.”

“I’ll join you.”

He was dead on his feet, but he didn’t care. He wasn't going to pass up a chance to hold her.

She headed upstairs, Harry following close behind. They had all agreed to a seven a.m. wake-up call to maximize their first full day of skiing, so the house was quickly quieting down.

Her room was smaller than her bedroom back home, but she liked it. It felt cozy rather than empty, and more importantly, she didn’t feel small inside of it. Harry kicked off his shoes while she changed into a pair of soft, long-sleeved pajamas.

She picked a movie at random and settled back into the pillows. Harry didn't hesitate; he crawled onto the bed, burying his face in her stomach while his body sprawled heavily across the mattress.

Y/N didn’t ask what was wrong. She didn’t ask what he was thinking. She simply began to run her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp in a slow, rhythmic motion.

“Get some sleep,” was the last thing he heard her whisper.

He didn't fight it. Under the weight of her hand and the warmth of the room, he peacefully gave up and let himself fall into the darkness.

Y/N stayed awake for another half hour, too full from dinner to drift off immediately. She lay there in the quiet, listening to the wind outside and Harry’s steady breathing, until finally, she felt comfortable enough to close her eyes and follow him to sleep.

The next morning, Aspen woke up showing off. The sun was blazing, reflecting off the fresh powder so brightly it was almost blinding.

Everyone dragged themselves out of bed around nine. They opted for a light start—strong coffee, nuts, and fresh fruit—before gearing up to hit the mountain. By mid-afternoon, their abs were sore, not from the skiing, but from laughing.

Mostly at Sarah.

"Jesus Christ, Sarah!" James shouted, doubled over laughing as he skied down to where she had face-planted for the fourth time in twenty minutes. "You are painfully cute, but you are a hazard to society on these skis."

"Fuck off, James!" Sarah groaned, her voice muffled by the snow before she pushed herself up. She grabbed his forearm in a death grip to steady herself.

"I’m just stating facts, dollface." James smirked, steadying her. "Maybe we should get you a sled. Or bubble wrap."

"I hate you," she laughed, shoving his chest. The push backfired immediately; she lost her balance and went down again, dragging James halfway down with her.

"Man, this is gold," Sebastian yelled from twenty feet up the slope, holding his phone out. "I’m putting this in the wedding montage! You two are a disaster!"

"Shut up, Sebastian!" James yelled back, though he wasn't making any real effort to let go of Sarah.

Harry, annoying as ever, was a natural. He picked it up instantly, carving smooth lines down the mountain while Y/N watched. It was unfair, really. The man had a gift for being good at literally everything he touched.

"Show off," Y/N teased as he skidded to a halt next to her.

They collapsed onto the snow off to the side of the trail to catch their breath. They passed a water bottle back and forth, chests heaving. Despite the freezing air, Y/N could feel a trickle of sweat running down her back.

"So," Harry said, wiping his mouth with the back of his glove. He looked at her, his cheeks flushed pink from the wind.

"So," she echoed, pulling off her mittens to fix her high ponytail.

Harry took a breath. He’d rehearsed this in the shower, in the mirror, and in his head all morning. "Do you want to go out with me tonight? Just us?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful grin spreading across her face. "Is the Harry Styles officially asking me on a date?"

Harry groaned, dropping his head into his hands, though he was laughing. "Oh my god. Don't make it a thing. I'm trying to be smooth here."

"No need to get shy on me, babe," she nudged his shoulder with hers. "I’ve seen you face-plant twice today. The mystique is gone."

"Wow. Ruthless," he rolled his eyes, looking back at her with a soft smile. "So? Are you coming or what?"

"Of course I am. Who do you think I am?"

Harry looked like he wanted to jump up and dance. They sat there for a while longer, just talking in the snow, before the cold finally seeped through their gear. Around four-thirty, the group collectively decided their legs were jelly and headed back to the house.

Back home, Y/N vanished into her room immediately. If she was going to be ready on time—a rarity for her—she needed to start now. She blasted her "Get Ready" playlist, turning the bathroom into a private concert venue while she took a scalding hot shower to scrub off the sweat and chill of the mountain.

Feeling refreshed, she slipped into a simple, silky mint-green dress that skimmed her frame perfectly, pairing it with heeled sandals. She kept it simple: hair down in loose waves, gold necklaces layered at her throat, and just enough makeup to highlight her features.

When she walked down the stairs, Harry was already waiting in the living room. He looked up at the sound of her footsteps, and he actually stopped moving.

She gripped the railing, suddenly feeling a little shy under his gaze. Harry walked to the bottom of the stairs to meet her.

"You look..." He shook his head slightly, as if words failed him. "Beautiful." He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered.

They bundled up for the cold—Y/N throwing a long trench coat over her dress and winding a scarf around her neck. Harry had called an Uber, and they were whisked away to a steakhouse James had recommended.

The restaurant was dimly lit and humming with quiet conversation. When they were seated, Y/N looked around, surprised she didn't recognize it. It was new, intimate, and perfect.

"Did you have fun today?" Y/N asked once their drinks arrived—a fruity cocktail for her, water for him.

"I did," Harry smiled. "Watching Sarah fight for her life on the bunny slope was a highlight."

Y/N laughed, tracing the rim of her glass. "I’ll never understand their dynamic. They drive each other crazy, but it works."

"And James trailing after her like a lost puppy," Harry added, shaking his head. "He tried to coach her, but he was useless. He’s too distracted by her."

"He should just ask her out, honestly. Everyone is tired of the flirting."

"I think he's scared," Harry admitted. "He’s terrified she’ll reject him. He’s not used to that possibility, and Sarah... she isn't the type of girl who cares about his money or his looks. She makes him work for it."

"She definitely does. And she would have told him to fuck off by now if she didn't like him."

"True," Harry chuckled. Then his expression softened. "Sebastian seemed a little down today, though. I think he regrets not bringing that girl he’s been seeing."

"Yeah, I noticed him third-wheeling pretty hard," Y/N nodded.

Harry reached across the table, his hand finding hers. "I’m glad you invited me."

"I'm glad you accepted."

Dinner was incredible, but the food was secondary to the conversation. They talked for hours—about travel, about which countries felt like home, about her dreams. Harry asked if she planned to take over her dad’s empire or carve her own path. They ate slowly, neither wanting the night to end.

By the time dessert arrived—a rich lava cake they decided to share—Y/N had slid her chair closer to his. They were careful feeding each other bites, laughing quietly when chocolate threatened to drip onto her silk dress.

"I have to tell you something," Harry said suddenly.

He wiped the corners of his mouth with the linen napkin, his demeanor shifting. He looked nervous. Suddenly, the thick sweater he was wearing seemed too warm.

"What is it?" Y/N knit her eyebrows, shifting her body fully toward him. She mirrored him, wiping her mouth and waiting, head tilted to the side.

Harry took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto hers.

"I just... I need to tell you how important you’ve become to me. You are everything I’ve ever wanted. Honestly? I never in a million years imagined a girl like you would even notice me, let alone sit here on a date with me."

He reached out, his thumb grazing her knuckles.

"I find every single thing you do mesmerizing. The way you talk with your hands, the way you carry yourself with so much poise... you have the world at your fingertips, Y/N, but you are so incredibly humble. I guess what I’m trying to say is... I love everything about you. And I love you."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. She didn't cry, but the emotion hit her like a wave. She sat in silence for a moment, processing the weight of his words. Harry just watched her, studying her face, trying to read her as he always did, looking for a sign that he hadn't messed this up.

Slowly, Y/N leaned forward and cupped his face in her hands.

"That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for seeing me... for seeing me, and not just everything that surrounds me."

She pulled him closer until their noses brushed. She could smell the faint scent of lavender from her drink lingering between them.

"I love you more," she breathed against his lips.

And then she kissed him. It was soft and desperate all at once, feeling exactly like the first time all over again.

His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her skin felt like it was on fire the moment his fingers brushed against her bare arms. He kissed her deeply, a desperate, consuming rhythm that only broke momentarily so they could gasp for air before he dove back in, claiming her lips again.

Y/N’s hands found purchase on his shoulders, holding on as he poured every ounce of his affection into the kiss. When he finally detached his lips from hers, he didn't pull away. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against her pulse point. Y/N knew exactly where this was heading, and for the first time, she prayed his newfound confidence wouldn't waver.

They paid the bill in a haze and headed back. The entire ride to the house was a test of restraint. Harry couldn't keep his hands to himself—his fingers tracing patterns on her thigh, his knuckles brushing her hand—and it was driving Y/N crazy. She knew she had to pace herself; she didn't want to overwhelm him, not when he was finally opening up. She repeated the mantra in her head as they walked through the front door: Go slow.

The moment the door clicked shut, the air shifted. Y/N kicked off her heels, sighing as her feet hit the cool floor. Clothes were discarded quickly, a trail of urgency leading toward the living room. Her dress hit the floor first, leaving her in a set of lace underwear that left very little to the imagination. His heavy sweater and jeans followed a second later.

Harry stepped in close, his hands spanning her waist. He pressed his body against hers, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. The scent of her strawberry shampoo filled his senses—intoxicating and sweet. He brushed her hair back; it was long, reaching the small of her back. He knew she planned to cut it soon, but he loved the way it felt slipping through his fingers.

His other hand settled on her lower back, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against her skin.

“God, you are so beautiful,” he whispered against her skin, his voice rough.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, looking up at him. She still couldn’t believe the shift in him—the shy boy from dinner was gone, replaced by a man who looked at her with pure, unadulterated hunger. Harry smiled down at her, his eyes tracing every feature of her face—her high cheekbones, the dusting of freckles she’d picked up from the sun.

He lowered his hands, cupping her backside and pulling her firmly against him. Y/N smiled, shaking her head at his cheekiness.

“What?” He smirked, leaning down to nip playfully at the cord of her neck.

Y/N closed her eyes, melting into the feeling of his warm lips and the contrast of his cool hands. She ran her palms down his back, feeling the muscles bunch and tense under her fingertips. Every time he squeezed her, she felt the cold bite of his rings against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Harry,” she whimpered, the sound barely escaping her throat.

“What?” he murmured, pulling away from her neck to press a kiss to her shoulder, then her collarbone, emphasizing his point with another firm squeeze.

Y/N pulled back slightly, looking him in the eye. “Are you sure you want this?”

She wanted him—desperately—but she needed to know he was ready. He needed to be certain.

Harry didn't hesitate. “I am. I promise.”

That was all the permission she needed.

She missed this. She missed the way he felt, the way his touch ghosted over her curves, the way he could drive her over the edge with a single look. There was no need to rush. They had all night to worship each other.

Y/N pecked his lips and pulled him by the hand toward the bedroom. She climbed onto the mattress, motioning for him to sit in the center. He grabbed her hand, pulling her easily into his lap. She straddled him, and they made quick work of the last few barriers of clothing between them.

Harry wrapped his arms around her, bringing her mouth down to his. Y/N tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, gently tugging as she deepened the kiss.

Harry broke away, trailing hot kisses down the column of her throat. The scent of her perfume still lingered on her skin, a sensory memory that made him smile against her neck. His attention drifted lower. He cupped her breasts gently, his thumbs grazing the skin, making Y/N moan softy above him. Her reaction only encouraged him.

He pulled back to look at her, his eyes dark. “Are you okay? Am I doing anything wrong?”

Y/N giggled breathlessly, shaking her head. “I’m fine. It’s just your rings... they're cold.”

Harry smiled, a boyish glint in his eyes, before he leaned back in to kiss her.

Unexpectedly, she rolled her hips against him. Harry let out a deep, throaty groan that vibrated through his chest.

“Christ,” he hissed against her neck.

She continued the slow, torturous rhythm, reminding him of the very first time they had been this close. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging in slightly.

“Enough teasing.”

She smiled, reaching down to guide him, bridging the distance between them until they were finally one.

Harry dropped his head back, a sharp exhale leaving his lips as he felt her warmth surround him. It was overwhelming in the best possible way. Y/N leaned back, supporting her weight on her hands behind her, establishing a slow, steady rhythm.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his eyes raking over her. Her lips were swollen and red, her chest flushed. He couldn't take the distance. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her down into his arms.

“Come here,” he breathed. “I hate not being able to touch you.”

Y/N gasped as his hips snapped forward, the angle deeper, harder than before. He nibbled on her ear, his hand gripping her hip to anchor her.

“What are you doing to me?” she moaned, throwing her head back. Harry’s grip on the nape of her neck kept her close, grounding her. He smirked against her throat, lost in the sensation of her.

Slowly, he maneuvered them until her back hit the mattress, hovering over her. He had gotten a taste, but now he needed more—he needed control. Her wide eyes looked up at him as he moved, forcing her eyes shut as she got lost in the friction and heat. The clean scent of fresh laundry mixed with the heat of the fire and their bodies.

“Look at me, baby,” Harry demanded, bracing his arms on either side of her head.

She wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him closer, a friction that drew a loud moan from both of them.

She forced her eyes open. His hair was sticking to his forehead, damp with sweat and the heat of the room. The fireplace cast a golden glow over his skin. She smiled, reaching up to brush the hair out of his eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered, the feeling burning brighter than the physical pleasure consuming her body.

Harry smiled, a genuine, wide expression of joy, and leaned down to kiss her softly.

“I love you so much more,” he groaned against her ear.

He pulled back, his hands finding her waist, his rhythm increasing, the movements becoming less calculated and more desperate. They were sloppy now, frantic, chasing the edge. Y/N matched him, her voice filling the quiet room, driving Harry closer and closer to the breaking point.

Eventually, the tension snapped. They gave in to the pleasure together, melting into one another as the world narrowed down to just this room, this bed, and each other.

And so, they lay there in the aftermath, limbs tangled, holding on tight. They exchanged quiet kisses and whispered sweet nothings, hiding from the world outside the window. For now, they were oblivious to the future, perfectly content to just live in the now.