One Direction Imagines

Harry Imagine: Theft, Deception and a Repayment

"Harry?" you whispered slightly as you intruded into his apartment. You know that anybody would probably view this as breaking and entering, but you were beyond caring and too shaken up to care. He had also said 'come by, anytime' and the front door just happened to be unlocked.

What sort of international popstar leaves his room unlocked, willingly able for other people to just sneak in and take anything that seemed of value to them, let alone something that could be held to ransom? A stupid, carefree child who obviously needed to learn a lesson, one you were going to teach him, just for the thrill of it.

You inspected the living room, looking at his pictures, seeing the all to familiar face of his sister Gemma and mother. Gemma had introduced you to Harry after inviting you to the biggest, celebrity cramped party you had ever been to.

It was to celebrate the boys Brit Award, which you termed as Global Domination, because, well, it was more interesting than it's original name. You had only spoken to Harry for a few minutes before he was, what you would describe as, unwillingly dragged away from you by some important management type to do some 'networking'.

Anyway, Harry had convinced Gemma to give him your number, which she was only to excitably willing to give. She believed you were perfect for each other, but you were still struggling to see that. You were only at that party because of the promise of a rather awkward ginger that went by the name of Ed Sheeran, who you had been slightly stalking for the past year or two.

Granted, you had never gotten very close but you were determined to meet him eventually, as the promises of meeting him had been unfulfilled and, undoubtedly, an inventive ploy to get Harry and you together, which smelled of Gemma's handiwork.

Anyway, back to the evil plot at hand. Gazing across the large expanse of wall space and awards you noticed an oddly familiar object: The Global Domination Brit Award. Ironically, you had tried to steal it from Harry that night for your art coursework as you knew your tutor would have been impressed with the Damien Hirst piece, being his idol and artistic inspiration.

The formulation of the plan seemed rather simple; steal the award and leave a little note asking for Harry to do something widely embarrassing in return, like posing for a naked selfie on Instagram, or, even better for many of the die-hard Directioners out there, admit that Larry is real. Imagine the amount of Directioners you would have under your control, willing to do literally anything for you...

"Shit!" You gasp loudly as the Brit Award slipped from your fingers, successfully breaking on the mahogany flooring. The hand gripped around your wrist was scratching the heavily pulsating vein, causing extreme flushes of pain across the right side of your body every few seconds.

A brush of fur connected with the back of your neck, increasing goosebumps and hightening your nerves as a deep, slow breath glided over your exposed shoulder, making your muscles and tendons squirm beneath your skin and your heart beat furiously inside your contracting rib cage.

"I didn't expect to find something so..." His voice trailed off as his lips connected with the vein of your neck, trailing further and further down to the base of your shoulder. "Delicate."

You shuddered under his fluctuating grip, constricting and releasing with your stubborn heart beat that only wanted to increase in speed and volume, ensnaring the deep throbbing of your pulse to be redirected to your stomach, slowly heading downwards.

"God," He muttered into your shoulder as his hands trailed to cup your hips and enclosing you tighter to his chest. "You're already boiling up. I'm gunna burn up down there" He whimpered in a husky, squeaking voice as he fumbled with the top button of the tight jeans you were wearing before slipping the zipper, making a satisfying groan emit from the male behind you.