labyrinthofloving - Tumblr blog

labyrinthofloving · 3 years

Note

pretty sure i’ve already shared this but i love it so much that i thought i’d do it again

hi sarah!! on patreon u had a blurb where harry and his girl were fighting and she passed out and was in the hospital but he didn’t know for hours, did u post that on here or would u be willing to? it was so good and it was my fav and I think I reread it like a million times

i got u boo boo

***

Anne arrives before her son does, holding an expression on her face that represents clearly what Harry must be feeling. Y/N’s never seen her so upset, so concerned, it almost makes her heart drop with guilt. She steps into the E.R. and heads over to her bed, attempting to wipe some of the worry off her face.

“Hi honey,” she says, reaching for her hand. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” Y/N answers with a smile. “I’m really okay, I keep telling everyone. Just a little tumble.”

“They told me you’re dehydrated. What happened?”

“Something like that. I’m okay. Just got a bit dizzy at the supermarket and fell over,” she assures her again. “I promise. In fact, Harry doesn’t even need to be here. I’ll go home by--”

“Actually,” Anne interjects, shifting uneasily on her feet. “He’s on his way already. I couldn’t not tell him, honey, no matter what’s going on between you two.”

Her shoulders slump. “Is he upset?” she asks timidly.

“Just worried. I forced him to get off the phone before he began to drive, but if you call him right now, he might…”

Y/N stops her, shaking her head. “No, no. I should leave him to drive. Unless…” her face brightens slightly at a new thought. “You could get him to stay at work and not worry about coming here.”

There’s no hesitation to Anne’s voice as she speaks, “You know he’d never listen.” She looks as if she’d like to say more, but it takes her a moment to supposedly gather her thoughts. Y/N can see the turmoil in her head, though, as she speaks up again. “I get everything isn’t okay at home. Could this have resulted from this?”

The question catches her by surprise. She’s known that Harry and his mother talk about their relationship, but she doesn’t know the depths of how much she knows. By this question, she assumes she knows enough.

“Everything is okay,” she tries to tell her.

Anne offers her a shrug and squeezes her hand. “I’m getting two sides of the story.”

“Harry said something like that? That things are rough at home? What’s he saying?” Her voice is getting increasingly louder and Anne’s eyes widen as she presses a hand to her shoulder and pushes her back down so her back can touch the pillow.

“Easy, honey, easy. He’s just said that you two had an argument. And if there’s stress from that, then you might not have been paying attention to yourself…”

She knows that her son can be a knob at times, and she may have her own opinions on the ample fights that the couple has, but for now she’ll stay silent and keep her nose out of it. It’s difficult to do when she loves these two very much.

“No, no,” Y/N insists with a frown on her face. “We are okay. I mean, it’s just a fight, but it wouldn’t--”

Harry walks into the E.R., speaks to the first nurse he finds, and then locks eyes with her and the nurse points in her direction. There’s a pained expression on his face that makes her glance away. She’s strong enough to take a tumble in the frozen food section of the supermarket, sustain a few bruises too, but she’s definitely not strong enough to handle the sadness on his face. She just can’t.

By the time he approaches her bed, her ears have picked up on the tapping of his shoes increasingly becoming louder. Anne witnesses her features and then her son’s, clearly detecting the tension. She steps back and allows him to gain access to his girlfriend.

“Hey,” he says, and she looks up at him. “What happened?”

“I’m okay,” she says for the hundredth time. “I am. I’m just dehydrated.”

“Dehydration doesn’t explain why your foot is in a cast.”

She wiggles her toes. “I just fell. But, it’s not in a cast. Just a binding.”

“They said you might have a sprained ankle.”

“Might have.”

There’s a moment of hesitation before he reaches for her hand, warmly encasing it in his. She watches his tangle their fingers together. It makes her heart hurt in her chest. With a sweep, he pushes the blanket away and makes sure he’s not about to land on anything important before sitting down. He glances at his mother.

Anne catches on and quickly says, “I'll get you two some coffee. Seems like we’ll be here for a while.”

As soon as she’s gone, which Y/N is upset about, Harry opens his mouth to speak. The sadness is still in his eyes as well as dejection and it’s becoming too much to bear. “You’ve been here for a while,” he starts quietly. “Since eleven, right?”

She nods wordlessly, choosing to stare at their joined hands.

“It’s two thirty now.”

She peeks up at the clock, confirming the time.

He continues, “My mother, who isn’t even the second emergency contact, got here before me. You got an I.V., blood drawn, and an X-Ray, yet nobody called me.” He tilts his head to get a good look at her. “We had a fight. Doesn’t mean I stopped caring.”

Coming from his mouth, it sounds like the most obvious thing in the world, and she immediately agrees to it. Of course he didn’t stop caring. He loves her. But, a few hours so she would have thought of him wanting to be here as something bogus.

When she offers no response, he says, “You know that right? Tell me you do.”

“I do,” she says slowly. “It just seems like in the moment…”

“What?” he presses, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Just seemed it wasn’t an option to call you,” she finishes, and his face falls. She looks up at him and when she catches onto his expression, she gives his hand a hurried squeeze. “But clearly that was stupid of me.”

“You thought I wouldn’t want to be here with you? With my girlfriend?”

Her jaw clenches. That just sounds awful. “No I…” she sighs, shaking her head. “I’m sorry…”

“We fought two days ago.”

“It was a pretty big fight,” she murmurs. “I know you told Anne about it…”

“It was a scary fight, love, but I’m your boyfriend, and your emergency contact, so I have a right to know when you get hurt! Not nearly three hours later as if I’m not important--”

“I didn’t say you weren’t important!”

“Seems like that’s what you meant!”

She stares at him incredulously, unsure how he’s got all this from her very limited words. His face shows that he’s frustrated with her, and suddenly she's annoyed that he’s allowed to be angry about this.

It’s what he wants, isn't it? Space. He wants room to breathe. He doesn’t want to see her everywhere he turns, so it’s justifiable that she’d hesitated about calling him first.

She eyes him coldly. “You can’t run around in circles around me,” she says with a hard voice. “You said it yourself.”

Oh.

Harry’s hold on her hand loosens and his tongue licks over his bottom lip, something he does when he’s nervous. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

She takes the next step and releases his hand. “Then what did you mean?”

“You’d know if you ever let me finish.”

Her eyes widen and shift over to the door where Anne had left in hopes that her timing would be good and she’d walk in to save herself from wasting her breath on a ridiculous fight in the middle of the E.R.

“Go ahead,” she grits. “Finish.”

He holds the same challenging expression on her face that she’s sure is also on hers. This is frustrating -- infuriating even! How did he take such a limited expectation of a boyfriend and blow it up out of proportion?

Two days prior:

The wrath of his anger had struck her that not only shocked him, but her as well. If she’d been reasonable, she wouldn’t have given him the chance to speak again as it would only allow him to hurl hurtful words at her once more, however the timid leftover kindness she had was deemed to be useless. (“Are you stressed, love? What’s the matter?”). He’d responded with a growl and stomped his way to their room.

Confused, she’d left him alone until dinnertime rolled around and when he didn’t return with a changed mood and a burning passion to at least kiss her hello, she decided she had no choice but to speak with him first.

She entered their room slowly and closed the door behind her, inquiring once more what was the matter with him.

“My schedule doesn’t revolve around yours,” he’d said coldly, not bothering to glance up from his laptop. He presses on the keys a little harder. “I can’t run circles around you.”

Her brows had furrowed and she’d stepped in some more. “Is this because I asked you to get home right after your meeting yesterday?” When he didn’t reply, she understood. “H, I haven’t spent more than a few minutes a day with you this past week. You haven’t been home in so long.”

“I’m home every night.”

She hummed. “And I appreciate that, but I’d like to see you more. Sleeping beside you isn’t enough.” She didn’t say “sleeping with you” because they both knew they hadn’t been doing that lately either.

“It’s never enough for you,” he mumbled indifferently.

Her brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He finally looked up at her and raised his voice a bit more, clearly strained. “It just seems like you think we’re joined at the hip or something.” He shook his head. “We’re not. We’ve got different lives. You’ve got yours and I’ve got mine.”

She crossed her arms across her torso. “Is this your way of calling me clingy?”

“No,” he said immediately. “We know what clingy is. I’m clingy when I’m just getting home from tour and don’t want to leave you alone. You’re clingy when you spend a holiday with your family and we miss each other.” He shut his laptop harshly and she nearly jumped at the intensity. She hoped his screen was cracked. He deserved it. “We can’t miss each other if we’re always here!”

Her jaw clenched. “You’re being so unfair.”

He wanted to laugh. “I missed two more meetings because you wanted me home by noon! And to do what? We ate lunch, something we could have done any other day of the week.”

“I didn’t know you had those meetings.”

“Like hell you didn’t. I’ve been telling you that I’m on a strict schedule and as soon as these weeks are over, we can see each other as much as you’d like…”

“I didn’t know!” she repeats, louder.

“Now I’ve got to fuckin’ shift everything two weeks ahead because Jeff’s got his own thing next week and we agreed on these dates.”

“Harry--!”

“So congratulations! You got your wish. I’m home for two weeks! And I’d appreciate it if you would kindly fuck off for those two weeks.”

He stands up and she can only watch as he takes a pillow and angrily stoves it under his arm and gather his laptop before walking around her. She wants to open her mouth and ask him where he’s going, but she gets her answer when he leaves the room and she hears the slam of the guest room’s door a few seconds later. Then the flick of the lock.

Tears sting her eyes as she glances around the empty room helplessly. They aren’t tears of anguish, though. She’s not wrong.

Well, shit.

Present

Harry feels awkward sitting on the side of her bed, simply thinking of words to say, but he’s blanking. She’s spitting his words back at him, so it’s only right that he come up with a more plausible response, and he’s had plenty of time to cool off about this mess, so it shouldn’t be difficult for him.

Yet, as they sit there and wait. “You don’t have to be here,” she says again.

“Yeah?” Harry replies with a hard tone. “And how will you get home?”

“A cab.”

Harry can’t help but scoff. “I can’t believe you sometimes. You’re truly…”

She sits up a bit. “Truly what?”

His eyes are cold and not the least bit sympathetic. He opens his mouth to, no doubt, say something scathing, but she’s saved from hearing it when Anne comes back into her view, and she looks at her with a glance over her boyfriend’s shoulder. She’s holding the hot coffee in the gray cardboard compartments with a smile on her face that slips a bit when Harry looks behind him and locks eyes with his mother.

“I found a Starbucks!” she says proudly, setting down the coffee on the miniature table besides Harry’s knee. “It was in the cafeteria, so I guess I didn’t really find it.” She looks at them uneasily, and then back at their hands that were joined not even 15 minutes ago, which are now far away from each other.

“Thanks,” Y/N says softly.

“Is it hurting, dear?” Anne asks. “You’ve got tears. Oh here--” she turns to rummage through her bag as she always carried tissues with her. “Let me get you some...How bad is it hurting?”

Y/N looks away, her lower lip wobbling. “A little bit.” Harry knows she’s not talking about the ankle.

The anger inside him dissipates a bit and the urgency of his tone is wiped away as he buckles under the weight of her tears. When had she begun crying? Did he--?

“A little while longer,” he quietly consoles, but it falls on deaf ears as she turns her body away from him slightly.. “Then we’ll go home.”

A doctor finally approaches her bed and holds X Ray films of her ankle. He asks Y/N how she’s doing and then lays it down as it is. It’s a sprained ankle and although she doesn’t feel the pain of it right now, she’s definitely going to feel it in a few hours.

Harry watches her face scrunch up and his heart squeezes, because he knows she’s got the lowest pain tolerance out of all the people he’s ever known, so this won’t be easy on her. He wants to reach out and grab her hand, but it seems like he breaks everything he touches, so he stays by the side of the bed. Like he’d told her: they had a fight, but he hasn’t stopped caring.

Bed rest, elevation, and ice is what she needs. She’s also assigned crutches, but they’ve got to come back for that as Y/N’s nowhere near ready to even hop on one foot. The thought alone makes her want to curl up and cry. But she can’t even do that.

She watches the nurse place a cast on her foot and she feels slight bits of pain, but it’s nothing like she’ll feel in a bit, because she’s still feeling tons of adrenaline. Or that’s what the doctors are telling her.

The doctor signs her release forms after prescribing her multivitamins and then asks for a wheelchair in order for her to be escorted to the exit. Harry deals with the insurance stuff at the front desk while Anne and her wait by the exit.

“Would you like me to stay with you two until everything is, uh, sorted out?” Anne asks kindly, holding Y/N’s hand in hers. “I can if you’d like.”

Y/N looks at Harry talking to the woman behind the desk. “No,” she says. “Thank you, but we’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

“And you’ll let me know if you need anything okay? I’m not doing much these days so--”

“Thank you,” she repeats, squeezing her hand. “I really appreciate it.”

Anne bends down and kisses her son’s girlfriend’s head and smooths out her hair. “I’ll see you then, okay? Make sure Harry doesn’t act like a knob.”

How can she tell his mother that he’s been a knob to her for the past two days and she doesn't think he’ll stop being a knob?

Harry arrives to them just as Anne is leaving, but she stops to bring him into a quick hug and pats his back. She whispers something in his ear that has his shoulders slumping, but he only offers her a nod and then releases her. Anne exists before them and then they’re left looking at each other.

“Okay,” Harry sighs. “Let’s go.”

He turns her chair over and begins pushing slowly, wary of how much pressure to apply, but he gets the hang of it. He rolls her over to the car carefully and sets up to place her inside. He places the breaks on the chair at a distance and then opens the door.

She doesn’t want to accept his help, but she is forced to let him place his arms around her waist and under her legs, picking her up bridal style and settling her into the car gently with a grunt.

“My car…” she suddenly remembers with a frown, grabbing onto his sleeve. “It’s still at the market.”

“I’ll get someone to go and pick it up with me.”

She continues to frown. “My left foot’s hurt, not my right so maybe I can drive it home…”

“You’re not serious, are you?” Harry interjects. She knows it’s a ridiculous idea, but she hates being so helpless and his tone is suddenly harsh again, so she melts into her seat and waits for him to yell.

His expression softens at the sight of her, so he sighs and reaches for her seat belt, buckling her in.

“Don’t worry about the car. I’ll be right back.”

He shuts the door and grabs the wheelchair, wheeling it back to the E.R. entrance where a doctor is waiting. He hands the chair off and then turn back, jogging to his car again.

When he returns, he checks her over once and then starts the car.

Harry doesn’t notice she’s crying until he’s parked the car in the driveway and twists his body to unlatch her seatbelt. She sniffles and presses her palms to her eyes as her body trembles with cries. His heart twists painfully in his chest and his hands immediately reach out to her, but he withdraws them as he thinks he’ll get better access at her side.

He moves to open his door and shuts it, quickly walking over to her door. He swings it open and unbuckles her.

“I know,” he murmurs, even though he’s most likely to have no idea what she’s going through. “I know, angel, come here.” He expects her to be reluctant, but she hides herself into his chest immediately and his shirt is drenched on contact.

He punches in the code to their front door and steps inside. She’s got her face in his neck and her arms around him tight as if she’s trying to convey all the things her mouth is unable to say.

“I know,” he says again, walking a little quicker. “Almost there.”

She whines against his collarbone, sniffling. Each heavy breath of hers causes his stomach to flutter more intense. When he reaches their bedroom, he sets her down gently onto the bed.

He can’t look at her face just yet, he’ll crumble if he does. Grappling around for a pillow, he blindly grabs the first one and shoves it under her foot, placing a gentle hand on her shin. “There we go. ‘S hurting, I know. Let’s get you some pain killers…” he opens up the side drawer where they keep painkillers.

“I hate it,” she hiccups. “I hate it so much.”

“I bet you do,” he answers softly. He hands her two pills and turns away to get water, but she grabs onto his hand and swallows the pills dry, shaking her head.

“Stay here,” she pleads quietly, wet lashes fluttering up at him. “I’m sorry okay?”

It’s not something that’s just falling from her lips. The expression of her face, the pain in her voice. She really needs him right now. Her nails dig into his hand.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about,” he says thickly, voice suddenly shot. “I should be the one saying sorry.”

She shakes her head over and over. “No. Shouldn’t have made you come home.”

“Love coming home to you, I do. Just really needed to work--”

“I should have known…”

“--so I could have the next month with you. We could’ve taken a vacation or something’ because you’ve got all those sick days.”

“And now I’ve got to use them up because I can’t walk properly!”

He smiles a bit at that, sitting besides her as he’d done at the hospital. “Bambi,” he murmurs, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s okay. Now we have to spend the next two weeks together.”

“We have no choice!” she sniffles, wiping at her eyes.

“And I like it that way.” He pulls the sheet down and slides into bed with her. She rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. “I like being forced to be with you.”

“You’re weird,” she says quietly, still wiping her face.

“I love you,” he replies, laying his head on hers. “Very much, and I need you to know that.”

She takes a while to respond, but she finally answers. “No, I love you.”

She falls asleep pretty quickly -- and he knows it’s being crying tires her out -- and he kisses the top of her head tenderly, holding her in his arms. The most wonderful feeling, and he feels complete, now aware that this is what he’s been missing. Her in his arms, both of them content.

When she starts snoring, he grabs his phone and opens to Jeff’s contact.

Can’t come in for the next month. Let’s push everything back. I’m sorry, will explain later. H

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labyrinthofloving · 3 years

Text

Home to Me

A/N: this was originally a patron-exclusive piece but you guys get it now! This is pretty angsty and was originally like a blurb request, but it’s fairly lengthy and I kinda love it with my whole heart?? anyway, enjoy!

WC: 4,593

Y/N sniffles again and takes a shaky inhale of breath. “I uh… I’m being discharged,” she tells him through a choked sob. There’s a silence between them and Harry’s torn. He’s about to see his baby girl again but on what grounds? What happened?

He swallows dryly. Harry’s sitting up in bed, scratching at the back of his neck and his eyes are pinched closed. He’s trying to stop his heart from hammering as he finds the words to say.

“Okay… okay, tha’s okay… wha’ happened?” He coos.

Y/N’s a nurse in the army and Harry just wants her back home with him.

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labyrinthofloving · 3 years

Text

Residue

RATING: R/smut (cw: emotional and mild physical abuse mentioned)

WORD COUNT: 8.5k eek

CATEGORIES: friends to lovers, camping!harry (?), sleeping in the same bed

NOTE: this is for the Sex Bucket List Fic Challenge from @berrynarrybanana - prompt was in a tent while camping with friends….and then I just kind of created this mess. check out the other fics and the amazing creators!!!!

I ENDED UP WRITING A PT.2! Read Endlessly here.

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“When are you going to tell Y/N?”

Harry looked down at his feet. His boots were scuffed from walking through the rocky terrain to the lake earlier when they’d gone swimming. The image of you in her bikini flashed through his mind, and he restrained from groaning–he’d known you for years, swam with you for years, and yet seeing you in that bikini still did things to him, no matter how much he tried to tell himself you didn’t feel the same way about him. “She doesn’t feel the same way.”

Mitch let out a heavy sigh and stood up. “You can be so fucking daft sometimes, you know.”

“Y/N tells me all the time.”

“Well, she’s right,” he replied. “Tell her how you feel, Harry. She feels the same way.”

Harry looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “How do you know?”

“I can see it in how she looks at you. You’re blind if you don’t see it too.”

Harry paused. “How…”

“It’s the same way you look at her.”

Harry and Y/N go camping with their friends and the fact that they’ve been in love with each other comes out

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labyrinthofloving · 3 years

Text

mitch. what a guy.

sledgehammer

summary: You join Harry Styles’ band, not knowing how much romantic confusion would come with it.

word count: 5k

based on this request:

drummer y/n on the howard stern show

masterlist

“—Any secret romances in the band? Hook-ups? I mean, c’mon. It’s bound to happen.”

The question fills the air and Harry’s head immediately turns sideways. From the corner of your eye, you can see Mitch blow air into his hands.

“Y/N? You and Harry?”

Your name coming from the man’s mouth immediately makes your face heat up. You open your mouth, but no words come out. That’s okay, though, for Harry fills in the uncomfortable silence, “There’s Sarah and Mitch.”

“Sarah? The drummer that left?”

“Temporarily,” Harry chides light-heartedly.

“Temporarily,” Howard Stern parrots. “Hm, okay. Now, how did that happen?”

As Harry recounts their love story, with minimal help from Mitch, you glance at Ny and Charlotte who have their eyebrows raised amusedly. You shake your head and concentrate on the back of Harry’s navy-blue sweater.

“Alright, I see,” Stern says. “Now, Harry, between you and me, who do you prefer as a drummer? Mitch’s girlfriend or lovely Y/N, sitting right there?”

“I can answer that,” you speak into the microphone, chuckling slightly. “It’s Sarah, obviously. As soon as she comes back from her tour with Hot Chip, I’m outta here. This is her rightful place.”

“They’re both very, very talented,” Harry says diplomatically, one dimple appearing.

“Both women,” Stern states the obvious. “You have a fetish for drummer girls or something?”

“My God!” you say, scandalized as Ny chuckles and Harry shakes his head in exasperation. “You’re something else,” you add.

“Hey, we have our own tastes,” Stern remarks dryly; you roll your eyes. “So that’s it, then? Just Sarah and Mitch, then?”

“Yes,” you say.

“Y/N is not having it,” Robin quips, you laugh and shrug. That’s how the rest of the interview goes. Howard Stern says something affronting; Harry remains professional and polite, as always. Stern’s attempts at psychoanalyzing are pathetic to say the least, but you can tell in his own weird way, he really does like Harry. There’s no one who Harry can’t charm.

Including yourself.

You dispose that thought and enjoy playing. Sledgehammer is a fast-paced song, and after you’re done pouring your heart into the music, you can’t help but be grin satisfyingly.

You can tell that Stern is impressed, too. He even remarks on your skills: “Y/N, you are talented.”

“Thank you,” you say politely.

“I always luck out when it comes to my band.” Harry grins, turns around, and glances at you.

⁕

You’re standing on the hotel balcony, admiring the night view of New York City, when Harry comes to join.

“Hey,” he says gently.

“Oh, hey,” you say, turning around. He’s changed out of his sweater into a grey hoodie and light blue pajama pants. The pearls still hang around his neck.

“They always give me an extra room-card, so I can walk into your guys’ rooms at anytime,” Harry says, crossing his arms and leaning against the bars.

“Reminds me of Joe from You,” you scoff.

“Still have to get around to watching that.” He nudges your shoulder. “Listen, it’s chilly out here, and I ordered some pizza that’s cooling in my room.”

“Sounds great.” Your stomach grumbles audibly and the two of you laugh. You exit your room with him. His is right next to yours. “Who’ll be joining us?”

“Oh, no one.” Harry’s voice is light as he opens the door to his hotel room. “Charlotte and Ny are out for drinks.”

“And Mitch?”

“Well, y’know him. He’s had enough of us for one day.” He sighs dramatically and you giggle. He stares at you, careful not to look at your legs. “Like your pajamas.”

It’s a pair of red shorts that reach slightly above mid-thigh. Your baggy shirt is either Mitch’s or Harry’s, you’re not sure.

“Ditto,” you say, feeling weirdly self-conscious as he hands you a slice of pizza. It’s still warm and the two of you chew in a sort of odd silence, Harry on one bed and you in the other.

“So—” you both say at the same time.

You laugh. “You first.”

“The interview,” Harry says.

“The interview,” you repeat in a passable imitation of Howard Stern. He laughs as you continue, “Tell me, you chose a slice of cheese pizza? Listen, this has something to do with some suppressed childhood trauma and nymphomaniac tendencies.”

Harry almost chokes. “Nymphomaniac tendencies.”

“He’s just—” You sigh. “But hey, he respects you.”

Harry scoffs so you add, “I’m serious! He likes you. I grew up with my dad listening to that dumbass, so I can tell he was pretty polite—for his standards. He’s just weird.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“The nice way to put it. I mean, the whole therapist thing?”

Harry slaps his forehead. “Don’t remind me,” he says miserably. “If she listened to that, fuck, that’s mortifying. Ny seemed to find it funny, though.”

“What doesn’t she find funny?” you ask.

“True, true. We did a pretty good rendition of Peter Gabriel, though.”

“Oh, yes. You’re a great singer.”

“You’re a great drummer.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause of your fetish.”

“I’ll kill you,” Harry says seriously. You giggle and nibble at your pizza. He adds, “He doesn’t know where to stop.”

“Honestly! ‘Any hook-ups in the band?’—” You stop and look away. “Weird thing to ask.”

“Yeah…” He nods.

There’s a short pause and then you say, “I mean, did he really expect us to blurt it out?”

Harry stands up and throws his plate into the trash. He ends up sitting next to you and says, “Sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

“You must’ve been the uncomfortable one.” You’re so close to him. The last time you were that close to him…

You stare into his eyes, a liquid, dewy green that makes you want to melt, melt away. He’s so perfect—sweet, handsome, talented. You’re the one who lucked out, and you’ve known that since day one.

⁕

Your friend barges into your room. You look up, then continue watching the TV show.

“Y/N,” she says breathlessly.

“I’m busy,” you say.

She snatches your laptop. “Wait, at least let me save the part I’m on!” you say.

“No. Netflix is below you.” You roll your eyes. “You have a lot of potential, Y/N, do you know that?”

“Are you getting to the point or…”

This time it’s your friend’s time to roll her eyes. “You’re not going to be giving me that attitude when you find out that—”

“No, no way,” you sit up, your heart rate accelerating.

“—His representative specifically emailed me to let you know that they want you to show up in Malibu, California on the 10th.”

“Oh my fucking GOD.” You jump up and hug her. “This feels like a fucking fever dream, I’m going to throw up.”

And the nausea doesn’t go away. It stays, even when you’re entering the big studio days later. Your palms are sweaty and you try to stay as cool and collected as possible.

“You have a decent amount of experience,” his representative says, looking over your qualifications again. “Alright, here’s the drum-set. Feel free to warm-up until he arrives, which shouldn’t be too long.”

“Thank you,” you say politely. He leaves and you let out a nervous exhale, settling yourself with the drumsticks and closing your eyes. Then you begin to play.

You weren’t planning on playing Kiwi, but it’s been stuck in your head for days. Harry Styles seems to appreciate this, though.

“Now, that’s really good,” he says, entering the room and taking all the air with him.

It’s a surreal experience to meet a celebrity, sometimes. Let alone converse with them. Here’s someone you’ve grown up with. You’ve had the privilege of watching his evolution: from a seventeen year old heartthrob you used to secretly crush on to the twenty six year old you’re still secretly crushing on. I mean, look at him.

“Oh—” you say, stopping immediately. You cough a little and say, “Thanks.”

“‘M Harry,” he says as if you don’t already know, extending his hand and smiling.

“Y/N,” you laugh, self-conscious. You hope you don’t seem too awkward.

“Kiwi goes very hard during shows,” Harry says. “On my last show on tour last year, we had two encores. We didn’t want it to end.”

“I remember,” you smile. “I attended it.”

“Really!” he says. “And what’d you think?”

“You guys are all insanely talented,” you compliment.

“You’re too nice.” Harry waves you off. “Well, you’re insanely talented, too, from what I gathered.”

You must have really good luck, for Harry’s opinion doesn’t change after you finish the audition. He stares at you with a sort of calculating expression, then nods.

“I hope you’re comfortable with traveling.”

“Oh my God, does this mean I—”

“Yes!” he nods, smiling. “I want you to play with the band first, to see how you’ll fit in. My prediction is that you’ll be great, and my predictions are usually correct.” Harry lowers a voice a bit and adds, “Between you and me, though, they all have a soft spot for Sarah. I mean, same goes for me. She’s one of my best friends. But that doesn’t mean they won’t love you.”

⁕

You realize the extent of their love for Sarah during one of your first shows. It’s a large crowd—very large crowd, in fact. Capital Jingleball in London, for God’s sake. Crazy where life’s taken you.

“You see Mitch?” Charlotte whispers.

“Yeah, I see him.” He’s tall as fuck, not exactly hard to miss.

“He’s crazy for Harry.”

“Oh, I—” you stop. “What?”

“You didn’t know?” Ny butts in. “They’ve been getting it on for years.” Adam nods serenely at this, in apparent agreement.

“Um. Wow.” You stare at Harry, who’s walking towards Mitch with a large smile on his face. He wraps his arms around him and swings him back and forth. It’s cute, but you’re quite disappointed. “I had no idea.”

Ny shrugs, smiling. You realize this is a good thing. You sort of had the crazy idea to actually pursue Harry. Harry Styles. You would’ve ended up rejected and humiliated. So really, Harry and Mitch’s relationship is a saving grace.

The show goes on with Harry jumping around, looking extremely attractive in a blue jumpsuit that’s not really a jumpsuit. Mitch is really a lucky man, you think, jamming out to What Makes You Beautiful.

Afterwards, Harry high-fives everyone. Except you. He wraps one arm around you and looks at you admiringly. “Y/N, you did incredible,” he says.

“You really did,” the rest of them chorus, including Mitch, and you look away embarrassed.

“Don’t be modest!” He tickles your chin and you giggle.

“Well, all of you guys are so great. I mean, Mitch, you must be so proud of Harry.”

You don’t see Charlotte and Ny glance at each other amusedly. Harry doesn’t seem fazed, however. “Oh, yeah. He is.”

Mitch doesn’t say anything at this.

“He’s just a man of very few words,” Harry explains. “See, he’s only interested in things that involve the love of his life.”

“Ah, I see.” You laugh. “Well, he’s lucky to have this job then.”

“Yeah,” Mitch says. His voice is deep, soothing.

“He’s a bit grouchy lately, thanks to the lack of sex,” Harry says, winking. Mitch rolls his eyes.

“I don’t blame you,” you laugh. “I’m exhausted and I’m only the drummer.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “Wait, what?”

That does it. Ny bursts out laughing, grabbing her side. Charlotte and Adam join in.

“You think me and Harry are together?” Mitch asks. His expression is neutral, as usual, but his eyes convey amusement.

“Ummmm.” Your face is extremely warm.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Charlotte says, composing herself. “Ny paid me to do it.”

“I did it for free,” Adam informs you.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed your initiation,” Harry says sheepishly. He shakes his head.

“So you guys aren’t together,” you say.

Ny’s eyes twinkle as she says, “Haven’t we already established that, love? Are you wanting to ask out Mitch or something? Because he’s madly in love with Sarah.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny.”

“Um, no. I actually am.” Mitch finally laughs. “Sarah’s my girlfriend.”

“Oh shit,” you say, and all of them laugh. Harry puts his arms around you again.

“Let’s buy her a drink before she quits. I can’t afford to find another drummer.”

⁕

Ironically, it’s Mitch you become closest to as the weeks pass. You learn to vibe with him and his witty humor fairly quickly, and despite the fact you’re the replacement to his girlfriend, you spend most of your time just playing music with him. So much in fact, that Harry’s begun to call you two “co-conspirators.”

You get along pretty well with Ny, Charlotte and Adam, but you don’t find yourself waiting for them to arrive at rehearsals. Neither do you laugh at their unfunny jokes. There are some things you reserve for Harry and only Harry, and that includes unadulterated admiration.

You wouldn’t have known he’s famous if you didn’t know exactly who he was. He’s classy, of course, but he carries a down-to-earth persona that leads you to wonder how he hasn’t succumbed to the pressure of the spotlight. Harry’s been in it for almost a decade and he’s true to his fans—and himself. He’s kind, almost unbearably so, and he has this healthy, attractive confidence. And this makes him a lot more sexier than most men and their toxic masculinity.

You’re falling for him subtly until the two of you have your first heart-to-heart. It happens unintentionally. All of you have just come back from the BBC Live Lounge. Harry had covered “Juice” by Lizzo and the tune is still stuck in your head. Ny and Charlotte went out to party, Adam is in his room with his wife, and Mitch is out cold in the balcony.

“How does Sarah stand him,” Harry grunts as both of you maneuver him to the bed. “Always falling asleep.”

“To be fair,” you say diplomatically, “he did have like, three shots.”

“Y’know he’s physically incapable of getting a hang-over?” Harry says, wrapping him in a blanket. “He just falls unconscious, then wakes up the next morning, fine as a bird. No headache or anything.”

The word “bird” makes you giggle for some reason, and Harry joins you. Maybe the two of you have had a bit too much to drink, but that doesn’t stop him from opening up another bottle.

⁕

“Pleaaaaaaseeeee. Lemme paint your nails, H…”

“They’re already paint’d. Charlotte did it and she turns into Lucy if I get rid of ‘em.”

“Lucy? Like the gorilla.”

“No, sorry, mean’ Lucy-fer.”

⁕

“I have four nipples.”

You wave him off. “Already know that. Can’ you tell me something juicy?”

“How do you—”

“You were on my wall for three years.”

⁕

“Cherry.”

Harry looks at you. “Really?”

“Yeah, I enjoy the melody ‘nd everything. Definitely my favorite.”

“Mine too,” he admits. “It was hard to record, though.”

You stare at him sympathetically. “I bet. It’s about…” You urge yourself not to say it, but Harry completes it for you.

“Camille Rowe,” he sighs. “I suppose I better tell you everything then.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No.” He cuts you off gently. “Wan’t’y to know. I trust you, a lot.”

⁕

“So I spent my twenty-fifth birthday in Tokyo, thinkin’ about her with every page I flipped…”

⁕

“It was one of the worst times of my life, but in an odd sort of way, one of the best…”

⁕

“It took a lot of time, lot of songs, but I got over her.”

“You were really in love.”

“Can you relate?” he asks gently. His drunk eyes shine with a sort of beautiful wisdom.

You let out a shaky breath. “Guess I gotta tell you my shit, then,” and he laughs.

⁕

“I was with him for a long time, and well, I hate the way it ended—”

“Well, yeah. That son of a bitch cheated on you.”

“You sound like my best friend.” You smile, thinking of her. “She got me this job, you know.”

“I’m really, really glad she did.” He scoots closer to you. You can smell the cologne and alcohol, and you contently breathe it in. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You deserve so much better than that.”

You catch where his eyes are. Directly placed at your lips. It’s only fair that you do the same thing.

“Really?” you ask quietly.

“Really,” he assures you, and then his head tilts. You brace for the sure to-be wonderful feeling, but Mitch’s sudden awakening breaks you guys apart.

“Where t’fuck am I?” he slurs loudly. The two of you stare, startled, then laugh. And look away.

⁕

It was the lack of sobriety, you tell yourself the following day. The drinks caused Harry to almost kiss you. For some reason, the shape and color of his lips remain a clear detail in your mind.

It’s impossible to tell if he remembers the almost-kiss, though. He remains friendly and funny as usual. No change in behavior. Maybe a little flirty, but he’s often a little flirty.

Mitch, ever the observant man, is quick to ask a few days later, “What happened?”

“What?” you say, plugging in some cord for the set.

“You know what.”

“I do not.”

He looks over to the side, exasperated. “It’s obvious you’ve been subtly avoiding Harry.”

“Nobody else has remarked about it.”

“Okay, it’s obvious to me.”

You shrug. Mitch adjusts his guitar strap. You assume he’ll stay quiet after that, but he can’t help but add, “Just make sure you use protection. If you get pregnant, he’ll never let Sarah come back.”

“Fuck you,” you say.

⁕

Ny convinces you to wear a dress instead of jeans. “It’s an A-lister party,” she uses as a method of persuasion.

“Never thought you’d be the type to fawn over celebrities,” you say amusedly.

“Okay, yeah. But A$AP Rocky is going to be there.” She shakes her head as if she can’t believe it. “A$AP fucking Rocky.”

“Wearing the dress will make her shut up, you know,” Charlotte says, so you do. It’s short and black and shows an ample amount of cleavage. You look in the mirror and twirl a bit before exiting the room.

“It’s unfair how good you look,” Ny says disgustedly. “Just stay away from my A$AP.”

⁕

You can’t help but gravitate towards Harry. He looks way too good and well, it’s a party. A fun party. And you have fun with Harry, so why keep hiding away?

“Hey, you,” you say, tapping his back. He’s holding a glass of some expensive liquor.

“Hi—” Harry turns around and takes you in. His voice is suddenly deeper as he says, “Hi, stranger.”

“I perform with you everyday.” You nudge his shoulder.

“Feel like we haven’t been talking lately. You’re becoming more and more like Mitch.”

“Thought you liked that.”

“As long as you don’t tell Sarah,” he says, and you laugh. “No Idea” by Don Toliver begins to play. It’s an overplayed song, but Harry’s sexiness is amplified as he sings along.

“Y’know, you look great,” he says mid-song.

“Really?” You move closer to him.

“Really.” And there it is. The placement of his eyes, unsubtly at your lips. There’s no mistaking it now. When you two make eye contact, he smirks, a dimple appearing. You’ve discovered a new side: not the friendly-flirt, but the dangerous allure you figured would come from him. You never knew you would experience it yourself, and God is it doing things to you.

So you’re the one that breaks the distance, just as the beat drops.

⁕

He tastes like vanilla and tobacco, or maybe that’s just his Tom Ford scent: whatever it is, it’s addicting. Harry pushes you onto the bed.

You break away for air and pull off his expensive suit in one motion; he makes do with unzipping your dress. His cold rings tease your bare flesh and you shiver. Whenever you’re with Harry, you’re either freezing cold or boiling hot: no in-between.

His moans are low and heavy as you grind against him. You bite his shoulder as he makes his sweet, torturous way into your soaking entrance. Your hands trace the tattoo on his collarbone.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he says in that devastating accent and you can only whimper in response. “So, so good.”

“Faster, Harry,” you break your resolve and his smirk reappears. He grabs some of your hair and pulls your head back as his thrusts speed up, and you can’t help it, you begin to—

⁕

“Scream!”

“That’s not even scary,” Mitch remarks. You nod.

“It scared my fifteen-year-old self,” Harry grumbles. “Fine, since you guys are such horror movie experts, what do you want to watch?”

“The Blair W—” you begin.

“Don’t even,” Harry says threateningly. “I miss Sarah. I do enjoy Mitch being the third wheel, though.”

“That’s what makes the unicycle,” he says with such drunk wisdom that it’s stupidly funny.

⁕

You guys find time to fuck in-between shows. It’s a miracle you haven’t been walked in on, until you are. And of course it has to be Ny. Seriously, the last person you want to be interrupted by as you’re giving Harry Styles head is her.

⁕

You already believe this schedule is hectic, so maybe it’s a good thing that you’re not staying for tour. Yet there’s a sudden ache in your heart when you think of being separated from Harry.

You wonder if he feels the same way, for your feelings are already more than desire, have been that way since the moment you walked into the studio. It’s impossible to tell if he reciprocates, but there’s always a certain tenderness in his eyes that makes you wonder.

⁕

And then you begin to freak out. It’s more than simple, wonderful sex with Harry. It’s getting distracted by him during every performance. It’s imagining him waking up by your side everyday. It’s wanting him to be the Mitch to your Sarah—or more accurately, the Sarah to your Mitch.

⁕

Your commitment issues are really coming to light. You never knew your crush would escalate this far, to Harry kissing your forehead after three sweaty rounds and saying, “I love you.”

“What?” is the first thing you say.

Harry is only taken aback for a moment. “Oh, I—”

You sit up and he does too. You stare at him, wondering if he’ll add that the bold statement was a joke. He does not.

“I mean, we’re not dating or anything,” you say, curling your toes, feeling the soft sheets. Oh God.

“Um, I know.” He scratches the back of his head. “But would you mind?”

“What?”

“I mean, would you mind us dating?”

The silence is deafening. Of course you wouldn’t mind. You’ve liked him for years, and you’ve grown to really care for him, thanks to this job. But how can you be good enough for someone as talented and amazing as Harry if you weren’t even adequate for your ex?

“I love you too,” you finally say. “I love you a lot, actually.”

He doesn’t say anything, so you plow on, “But I’m set to perform with you guys for a few more months, and well, if things go south…”

“Oh, okay. Yeah. I get it.” Harry looks away, then his stare returns. “We’re no Sarah and Mitch, after all.”

⁕

Then comes the professional distancing. Mitch isn’t the only who notices this. You inform Ny that there wasn’t anything more between you two than just the odd hook-up here and there. You hope saying it out loud will make you believe it.

So the two of you stay friendly for the sake of professionalism, for the sake of carrying out every show expertly. You pretend to not notice the way his stare lingers at you, and he pretends to not notice the way your stare lingers at him.

⁕

Harry hosts the Late Late Show with James Corden.

“Did he really date Kendall Jenner?” you whisper to Adam as your set gets ready.

“Afraid so,” he says.

Which is totally fine. Totally fine. It’s cute how they interact, honestly, how Harry seems so at ease as the two of them dive into bull penis and bird saliva or whatever the fuck. Because Harry’s going to end up with someone like Kendall anyways: a skinny model from a famous family, not a drummer who’s never had health insurance before performing for a world renowned star.

⁕

A couple days before the BRITs, you get a phone call. It’s from Mitch, which is odd, because Mitch is a staunch texter.

“Did you misdial?” you ask.

“No,” he says, deadpan. You hear him exhale. “He got mugged.”

“Huh? Who?” you say, sitting up.

“We have one mutual friend—”

“Oh my God.” Your throat is extremely dry. “Is he—is he—”

“Yes, he’s fine. Shaken up, but unarmed.” He sighs. “Fuck, man. Happened last night. A pretty shitty way to spend Valentine’s, getting robbed at knifepoint—”

“KNIFEPOINT?” you practically scream, alarming a frail old woman crossing the street.

“—And wallowing over a girl.”

Silence. “He’s really okay?”

“You should call. But yes, he’s okay.”

“God.” You feel like crying. “He doesn’t deserve…”

“I know.” Mitch’s usually neutral voice holds a fair bit of emotion. “Listen, Y/N. I know you love him.”

You exhale. “He knows that too.”

“He doesn’t think you love him the way he loves you. And I know you do.” His voice turns urgent. “I don’t understand—”

“I need to go. I’m going to call him.” You hang up, feeling extremely guilty. The sky is a deep grey, mirroring your mood.

⁕

You cry as he performs “Falling,” submerged in water. There’s a raw emotion in his voice that gives you a strange urge to protect. But as the night goes on, Harry is the picture of happiness, joking and laughing next to his sister. Even he puts on a mask.

⁕

The after-party is making you nauseous. You’re about to leave early before you bump into Harry, crisp in his yellow suit.

“Oh, sorry!” you look up. His pupils are dilated from the dim lighting and his hair is unruly.

“‘S okay,” he says. “Not in the mood to party?”

“Not really.”

“Neither am I, to be honest.” He sighs and holds the door open for you. Harry follows you into the cold London air. You can’t help but shiver as soon as you step outside.

Harry immediately takes off his suit jacket.

“Oh no, it’s fine—”

He doesn’t listen and wraps it around you. You sigh, exasperated, but smile at him gratefully. He smiles back, but only a little.

“I’m sorry,” you say automatically.

His brow furrows. “For?”

For being so fucking scared. “The whole mugging thing.”

He clucks his tongue. “Oh, I’m all good. Just a bit scary, ‘s all.”

“A bit?” you repeat. “You’re brave,” you add admiringly.

Harry looks at you. “Really?”

“Really.” You move a strand of hair behind your ear. “You wouldn’t be so successful if you weren’t so brave.”

He shrugs, not quite looking at you as he says, “Between you and me, courage can hurt quite a bit.”

There’s a lump in your throat. “I bet.” You want—no, need—to say something more. You’re about to grab his arm but then he says, “That’s my ride. I’ll see you, Y/N.”

⁕

His mood begins to perk up. The friendliness returns between you two. You’re worried that Howard Stern’s abrasive questions will render him upset, but of course, Harry knows how to be professional at all times. Nothing good comes out of that show, except how good he looks while singing “Sledgehammer.”

⁕

He looks so cozy in his pajamas. You scoot closer. You missed being this close, missed breathing in his scent. It’s a hard thing to convey to people that you made a mistake after they confessed their love to you, so you’re hoping a kiss is a valid form of communication.

His hand strokes your bare thigh as you suck on his neck. Everything is so warm, so nice, until he suddenly redacts his soothing movements as if burned.

“I can’t,” he says gruffly, looking away. Harry clears his throat.

“Oh.” You swallow. “Okay.”

“’M sorry, it’s just…”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” You trace the cross tattoo on his hand. “I get it. Howard Stern’ll have a fit if he finds out.”

Laughter is a better medicine than sex, after all.

⁕

“You gotta cut the bullshit.”

You look up to find Mitch staring at you with his arms crossed.

“What?”

He sits across from you. “Sarah’s coming back soon.”

“You must be happy,” you say, smiling, but Mitch shakes his head. “I mean, yeah, I am,” he says, “but that leaves you less time to sort things out.”

“I—”

He holds his finger up. “Listen, Harry told me about you and your ex. About what he did. That’s the shittiest thing that can happen. But that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.”

“Mitch—”

“There are much better guys out there. Even if Harry wasn’t my best friend, I wouldn’t hesitate to say that he’s someone you won’t find again. He’s a great, great guy. Always there for others. I mean, fuck, man, he gave me this opportunity with no hesitation. He just knows. And I bet he’s good in bed, too.” Pretty fucking great, actually. “But he’s not a demigod. Despite the fame, he’s a regular guy, with minimal, but regular, flaws. And look at you, Y/N—don’t undermine yourself. You two are perfect for each other, and you can’t let your insecurities and fear get the better of you. You’re a wonderful person. I’m so lucky to have you as a friend, and you’re lucky to have him around too. Y’know how reserved I used to be?”

“Used to…”

“Okay, even more than I am now. I was genuinely fucking terrified to ask Sarah out. Like, here she is, so perfect in every aspect and I’m…”

“Pretty good.”

“Pretty good,” he repeats. “But I did it. I didn’t want to regret it for the rest of my life, y’know? Same goes when Harry offered me this job. There was a fair bit of trepidation, but I said to myself, does my fifty-year-old self want to spend the rest of my life in the same fucking corner of the world? So I was brave, Y/N. Courage can hurt, but the lack of it does too.”

Wow. You’re not sure how to respond. “That was the most I’ve ever heard you talk before, Rowland.”

He laughs. “Well, let’s hope my lack of brevity amounts to something. Lord, please, do not let him hook up with Kendall again.”

⁕

And it does amount to something. You muster all the bravery you have and you tell Harry that he’s more than a simple fuck, more than your employer, more than anybody else. You tell him how grateful you are to have joined this band, to have gotten this opportunity, and to have fallen in love with him. Harry has taught you that the past is nothing to be ashamed of, it’s something to build upon.

The two of you stand in the studio, your bags in your hands, and even though kissing isn’t a valid form of communication, it’s Harry’s lips that answer your confession. They seem to be pleased.

You guys break apart and he says, “So Sarah’s back. You can’t be my drummer anymore.”

You hit him lightly. “Thought you cared about me.”

“Mitchell will have my head if I suggest her return be delayed.” He laughs, then intertwines his hand with yours. “Is it alright if you can be my girlfriend instead?”

You smile. “Yeah, that’s alright.”

Then you’re kissing again. Of course, the whole band has to walk in, first Ny and Charlotte, matching images of triumph on their face, then Adam, who looks rather bemused (although he always looks rather bemused), and finally the happy couple, Mitch and Sarah cooing at each other happily after being separated for so long. They look up and you and Harry stare back.

“Oh dear,” Sarah says. “I’ve missed quite a bit, haven’t I?”

i didn’t expect this to turn out so long, i guess i’m just a slut for imagining being in harry’s band 😩 i couldn’t imagine a world without miss sarah jones so ofc she had to be touring with hot chip lmaoo

tell me why i forgot adam was a member until half-way through writing this😭 i love them all sm though

please let me know what you think and keep sending me requests!

also i am a mitch fan acc

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labyrinthofloving · 3 years

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Saturday Morning

Summary: Y/N and Harry spend a lovely Saturday in bed.

Genre: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF and a “Two for the Show” extra!!

Word Count: 2.5K!

A/N: Two for the Show is by far my favorite and the most popular fic I’ve ever written and I just missed my babies so much I had to write an extra for them!! I owe my heart to my loves S @tobesolonely and Nat @harrystylescherry for reading this for me and reassuring me when I needed it!! I am very rusty so please be nice! You can find more of my writing in my masterlist and I really want to hear what you have to say about this one!!! Also hi soph <3 @theharriediaries

**Read Two for the Show first**

***

Saturday mornings had always been Y/N’s favorite.

When she was little, she always woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen up the hall (courtesy of her father being an early riser who always got a bit bored in the mornings). As she got older, she spent them sleeping in and trying to recharge from long days at school, basking in whatever peace she could get before exiting her room into the chaos of her loving–but crowded–household. When she got to college, Saturday mornings were reserved for dealing with hangovers, and once she moved to LA and her career began to take off, it was the only time she had for herself in her busy schedule.

Her love for Saturdays had only grown since she had moved in with Harry.

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labyrinthofloving · 3 years

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Two for the Show

Summary: Jeff plans for Harry’s new opening act to be more than that.

Genre: Famous Fake Dating!

Word Count: 17.1k!

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A/N: Hey babes!! This is something I’ve been working on since December now and I’m so fucking proud of it and how it turned out!!! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so so so excited to hear what everyone has to say!! Giant thank you’s go out to the incredible soph (@theharriediaries) and Lu (@meetmymouth) bc this never would have come to fruition without them and their help!! Please let me know what you think!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!! Happy reading y’all :)

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

If Y/N was being honest with herself, everything Full Stop Management had ever suggested to her had worked, and very well. When they suggested her music took a more pop direction, they set her up with a team of fantastic producers and her music sales and popularity skyrocketed. And when they set up an appointment with a celebrity stylist to figure out her signature style, it worked; they turned her into the 1970’s inspired goddess she had always dreamed of being. Even the hours of media training that she had been put through worked, helping her learn how to bob and weave even the most intrusive of interview questions.

But this time, she thought they might be going too far.

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labyrinthofloving · 3 years

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y’all vee sent me this telling me to read it and it did not disappoint. it’s so fucking good i want a sequel and blurbs. i want a whole prince harry gold rush universe. please read it because i know how long it takes to make something this good. i’m obsessed. the symbolism, the pining, i’m gonna scream.

Gold Rush

Gleaming, twinkling,

eyes like sinking,

ships on waters,

So inviting, I almost jump in,

-Gold Rush by Taylor Swift

A slow burn AU where Harry is the Prince of everybody’s dreams and Y/n’s mind turns his life to folklore, even if everything is ambiguous and as unsettled as the next bird you get to see.

Word Count: 19.3K

Warnings/ What to expect: Royal Au,Fluff, rocks of angst in a river of longing+ tension, no smut, don’t ask me which era this is, myths, symbolism, long forgotten superstitions( I am trying to do justice to that lyricism here, spare me) Dagger burning, An era where fashion is real good, Stewardess here is a rank of nobility and means the head of palace staff(nothing about face value, nothing derogatory), lots of birds, everything wrong with the society, long ass deep conversations(do we have them anymore these days? Good thing this is set in some undefined era in history), stupid conversations. Finally, *takes deep breath, checks microphone, yells* LONG HAIR HARRY IS THE REAL PRINCE HARRY, I’M NOT SORRY, I MAKE THE RULES. Y/n doesn’t like a gold rush and I raise Itallyrry to give you Italian-speaking-Prince-Harry with long hair. Ft. Outfits from the another man photoshoot.

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labyrinthofloving · 3 years

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cal’s sick || calum hood

You pick up your phone as it rings with Luke Hemmings ringtone, “hi Luke.” You answer, slightly distracted by your work in front of you.

“Cal’s sick.” He replies.

“Thank you for the news update.” You let out a quick chuckle.

“Can you come? We’ve all had it.” He sighs. “He’s been whining for days and you always make him feel better. Can you? Please?” His voice turns to pleading.

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labyrinthofloving · 4 years

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i feel like i don’t have words for this. i fell in love with the idea of love again after reading this. it made me realize how great it would be to grow through life with someone. that was cheesy but fuck it

My Girl || C.H

A//N: Let’s try this again… I promise I won’t take this one down once it’s up 🥴 I’m not quite sure what this became, but the original idea was literally just the final little section which then developed and turned into an 11k string of something that I’m not entirely mad about :) I actually really like this one and I hope you guys do too! Please let me know what you think!

Word Count: 11.9k

Putting the kids to bed was something that Calum loved to do, something he found himself looking forward to every night that he was home. It had nothing to do with the blissful silence which would encase the house after a day of little feet, amped up on energy running around, filling the space between the walls of your home with the endless amounts of sweet giggles and smiles that you were sure could outshine the sun in the sky. It was more the bonding moment that it gave Calum, the sweet routine which he had conducted with his children which allowed for him to make up for the nights that he may have missed.

It was a time for him to watch his kids as they padded around, sleep beginning to take over their features as they stood at the sink and brushed their teeth, Calum reminding them to get the ones at the back which he knew they tended to miss in order to get the task done quicker. He would stand in the doorway of the bathroom, arms crossed against his chest, palms resting against his biceps as he would watch the two children in front of him playfully shove each other as they fought over who got more space at the sink. He’d smile as he watched them, eyes watching in the reflective chrome of the mirror, spotting how their smiles would be wide as they shot playful glares at one another.

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labyrinthofloving · 4 years

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this was a rollercoaster but it was a damn good one

a/n: this is a repost! uhmmm yeah

here’s a disclaimer: this is not an ideal “angsty but everything is secretly perfect” situation. this shit is heart wrenching and not completely healthy (maybe?) and that’s fucking okay. not everything is perfect–life is not perfect, relationships are not perfect, people are not perfect. i write real people, real situations (this one, i’ve been in personally) and if you don’t like, don’t read it.

any more questions, refer to this post.

also i was too lazy to put the dividers in but might do that later if i dont delete it again lol

what it is: angst–like BIG angst.

word count: 15.5k

MASTERLIST

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labyrinthofloving · 4 years

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YALL READ THIS. FUCKING READ THIS!!! my heart is doing a thing

Reputation (Luke Hemmings) - Part 5 *

word count: 2275 requested by: none warnings: mentions of murder/death fandom: 5 seconds of summer au type: college, bad boy, criminal inspired by: “Legally Blonde” authors notes: WOW OK HELLO THIS SERIES WAS SO MUCH MORE WELL RECEIVED THAN I THOUGHT IT WAS GONNA BE AND IM ACTUALLY KINDA SAD ITS OVER???? THANK YOU???? I LOVE YOU???? YOU’RE ALL ANGELS???? other parts: one / two / three / four / five

❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀

Week Four

It took four days for the department to build up a solid case against Spencer, but you swore to God it felt like an eternity. You still had classes, however, and it was incredibly hard to maintain the facade that you didn’t suspect Spencer at all.

But you did it.

And the day he was finally called in for questioning was the day you finally felt like you could breathe again.

Your class was in the conference room once again. Professor Cortell had told everyone you were meeting for one last run-through of all the evidence before you had to finish your reports, but the real reason was so that Spencer wouldn’t be able to avoid interrogation.

“Still trying to bail out your boyfriend, Y/N?” Spencer smirked. Now that you knew he was most likely the actual culprit, the way he looked at you when he mentioned Luke made you feel sick to your stomach.

“I’ll defend him until the day I die, Redford,” you told him, not looking up from your laptop, “But something tells me it’s not going to take that long.”

“Yeah?” he snorted, “And what makes you think that?”

As if he were answering the question for you, Officer Reede knocked on the door and came into the room. Your classmates’ eyebrows furrowed at the look you shared with him.

“Spencer Redford,” the Officer said, “We’d like to have a word with you in interrogation.”

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labyrinthofloving · 4 years

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okay this one hurt. i love it.

Strong (Calum Hood) - Part 2

word count: 1955 requested by: anonymous warnings: none fandom: 5 seconds of summer au type: doctor, adoption inspired by: none authors notes: none other parts: one / two

❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀

Five weeks later

You and Calum walked into the adoption agency’s building on Monday morning, beyond ready to bring Ethan home with you. You were practically cutting off the blood flow to Calum’s hand with how tightly you were holding it, having no idea why you were so anxious.

“Babe,” you heard Calum chuckle softly, making you look at him, “I know you’re nervous, but I can’t feel my hand anymore.”

“S-Sorry,” you whispered, quickly releasing your grip.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you into a hug, “You’ve been wanting this for nearly a year now.”

“I know,” you sighed, laying your head on his shoulder, “But what if he’s not happy with it? What if he’s doing fine here and taking him home will just make things worse?”

“You know that’s not going to happen, babe,” Calum shook his head, “Ethan loves you more than anything and he’s going to be thrilled that you wanted custody of him instead of him going with a family he may not get along with.” You tilted your head up and stuck your bottom lip out slightly. Calum laughed again – knowing what you wanted – and pecked your lips.

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labyrinthofloving · 4 years

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i’m genuinely speechless. i’m reading everything on your master list because all of it is so fucking good. the chapter about getting back to the childhood home really sent me. i love how you made harry in this.

No Sound But the Wind - Masterlist

Almost a year after the collapse of a nation, your long journey home in apocalyptic surroundings somehow grows more stressful thanks to the arrival of one certain, angry boy.

A/N: only three days later and I’m finally getting this up… anyway, let me know if you want to be on the tag list for this! <3

Trigger warnings: mentions of death, corpses, blood, use of physical violence, firearms and other weapons. Please take care before reading!

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

*Chapter IX

Chapter X

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labyrinthofloving · 4 years

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stuck in love is my favorite movie 🥺

Could you do something inspired by stuck in love where she says I remember that it hurt looking at him hurt. Maybe he’s really struggling and she can’t seem to do the right thing to help him

PETAL! This has been sat in my inbox for the longest effing time and I am so effing sorry! I wanted to rewatch the film before I wrote it but I couldn’t find it so I just sorta winged it! THIS IS PURE ANGST. Thoughts please!

Stuck In Love

You haven’t felt it for a while - that awful sickening feeling you get when you’ve seen someone you’re desperately trying to avoid. It’s manifestation in the pit of your stomach has you desperately searching for a way out of this confined space you now find yourself in, backing away out of the door without a second thought for anything you had been doing or for anyone you were with.

Your friends are calling after you with mirrored frowns, your best friend following after you rather than sticking to her place in the queue. But their chorus of your name hasn’t helped your problem; no, it’s only made it horribly worse.

Because now, instead of facing away from you and looking at the menu boards above the rows of industrial coffee machines and stacks of Starbucks branded mugs and takeaway cups, Harry has his big green eyes glued to you, an expression eerily similar to yours gracing his eternally beautiful features.

You break out into a near sprint as you run off, away from your problem and away from your friends. You knew a Starbucks of all places was a bad idea anyway, there was just something about the atmosphere in them that made you feel ill at ease. But seeing Harry in there as well? Nah, you can forget it.

Trina follows after you, catching up with you after you surrender yourself to a bench in the park you often frequent when you’re having a bit of a shit day - much like you are now. Her arms are around you instantly, tucking your head into the crook of her neck as your sobs take a hold of you.

Leaving Harry was one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done, and if you could take everything back you would in a heartbeat without a second thought. You’d been selfish; helpless in your relationship through trying times and had no energy to help him. He’d fallen into a strange state of depression - even if he’d never admit it. And you, in your typically resigned fashion didn’t know how to help him.

Airing problems was something you’d never been good at, admitting feelings that were anything other than love had you running away like you had just now. It was the last thing you should’ve done - leaving him. But you felt incapable of helping him, he seemed helpless.

Six months had passed since you walked out on him. You hadn’t answered any of his texts or calls, anyone who reached out to you on his behalf had been instantly rejected, and shamefully that included his mother and sister - two people who’d been your rock in any of Harry’s absences in the three years you were together.

You’d just despised coming home everyday to find him moping on the sofa or in bed, barely able to hold a conversation with you to the point you selfishly got fed up.

For a while you’d tried to keep your life with a semblance of normality, going from day to day pretending that nothing was wrong. You’d love him the way you always did, be affectionate with him in all the best ways - and all the ways you knew how. There was one week in particular that you think you gave him more blowjobs than you’d given you’re entire relationship (maybe you’re terrible - they scare you a bit), and it still seemed to do nothing for him.

That’s when the self-doubt started creeping in.

You’d thought maybe you were the issue - maybe he was fed up of you, bored of you. Were you being clingy? Were you irritating him? You’ve been told before by friends that you can be irritating as fuck, maybe Harry was starting to see it too.

You thought leaving him was the right thing to do. It didn’t matter that you were still completely taken with him, in love with him to the point it was no doubt unhealthy. The fact that you were so completely stuck in love with him was a big factor in why you left him. You can love someone even though you’re not with them.

“Ruining my shirt, mate.” Trina mumbles into your sudden eerie silence.

You’d stopped sobbing about five minutes ago, and you’re completely unaware that you’ve been sat here for half an hour now just going back through everything you’ve managed to avoid thinking of for three months.

You sniff as you paw at your wet eyes with the cuff of your jumper and laugh once, though it’s void of any humour. “Sorry.”

“Didn’t fancy a chat with him then?” She asks expectantly, wiping stray tears from your stained cheeks with her hand as if you’re still a child.

“I don’t think I deserve it. Wouldn’t be surprised if he fuckin’ hates me - m’horrible.” You mutter, looking from your lap out to the vast parkland ahead of you.

“I refuse to believe he hates you. You were in love, everyone could see it.”

You glance back to Trina and pout. It didn’t feel like being in love in those last few months, it was just painful. “I just… I remember that it hurt seeing him hurt. And I did nothing but run away.”

“You are exceptionally good at that.” Trina hums, but she hadn’t missed the strain in your voice when you’d spoken. “But we can all see why you did it, and I don’t doubt any of us would’ve done anything differently if we were in your position.”

An all too familiar voice states your name behind you, sending a shiver through your entire being. It doesn’t sound angry, it doesn’t sound upset, it’s almost… relieved?

You wince at it regardless, sharing a nervous glance with Trina before turning around slowly to look at him.

Harry’s stood there in a long black coat, holding two takeaway cups in his hand as he watches you with worry. And that’s really all there is; worry. Again, there’s not an ounce of anger or hurt evident on him, he’s just apprehensive with concern.

Trina gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll leave you both to it.” She whispers delicately, standing from the bench to wander over towards Harry.

You hear him murmur that the other girls have a drink waiting for her back at the coffee shop, but you’re not looking their way anymore - you’re paying too much attention to the squirrels having an argument in a nearby tree.

You don’t look up until he actually intrudes your line of sight, setting both cups on the ground. You struggle with something to say, and apparently so does he as you both just stare at one another for a moment.

He looks good, better than you do for sure. He’s gained a bit of weight back, something you always secretly loved because you always adored his little muffin tops when he wandered around the house in nothing but a pair of pants. His eyes are red, and you wonder what happened between when you left the coffee shop and now.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” You whisper, eyes dropping to your lap as you begin to fiddle with the only ring you ever wear. His ring that holds a permanent place on your left thumb because it’s the only place it’ll ever fit. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your throat has grown tight again, tears spilling over to fall down your face and pool into your lap. You hate yourself for what you did to him, and him being this close to you is not making you feel any better.

“Hey, no.” Harry coos, enveloping around you without thinking twice. His left arms grips you tightly as his right hand strokes over your hair. He’s pressing feather light kisses into your hair, and it’s not helping the sick feeling in your tummy. “Don’t do that, please.”

“I was horrible, Harry.” You cry into his chest. “I don’t deserve you, you didn’t deserve what I did to you - it wasn’t fair!”

“No, stop it.” He says firmly, pulling back to glide his hands from the top your head to your cheeks. “I don’t blame you for leaving, love. I really don’t.”

“Why?” You whine incredulously, wiping more tears from your face. “I should’ve stayed - I should’ve tried to help you. And I didn’t, I just fucked off and left you to deal with it on your own.”

“Yeah, and I’m grateful for it.” He says as if it’s obvious. “Don’t get me wrong, angel - I really bloody missed you. Hell, I missed you when we were still together, but I miss you even more now. But you leaving was the best thing for both of us.”

You stare at him for a moment with a frown and a pout. It makes little sense to you, his logic behind everything - and yet he’s still absolutely certain about it. “It still doesn’t change that I feel absolutely fucking terrible about it, H.”

“And I wish you wouldn’t.” He says simply, stroking along your cheekbone with his left thumb. “It was the right thing to do. It’s given me time to sort myself out without you having to deal with any more shit from me for it.”

You stare at him again, because you really are still hopeless for him. That never changed. You’ve missed that weird yet still attractive stubble he grows during his lazy time off, missed his smell which you could recognise from a mile away, missed the colour of his eyes, his dimples when he smiles. You’ve just missed him.

“I love you, you know.” Harry speaks again into your silence, his eyes never leaving yours. “All this time we’ve spent away from each other and I still have absolutely no doubt that I love you. I was gonna marry you, still want to.”

You produce a sound that can only be described as a welp at his confession, and he’s got you fucking crying again as another fat tear rolls down your cheek. You’re shaking your head in denial, taking in a deep breath. “Why?”

“I just said why.” He chuckles with a light smile. “I fucking love you. Have done for a very long time.”

You release a breath and shake your head again, resting your hand on his wrist where he’s still holding your face. “I love you too.”

“I’d fuckin’ hope so after all that.” He chuckles again, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then your lips. “Here, I got y’a coffee.” He hums, leaning sideways to hand you the smaller cup. “Still take it black with three sugars?”

You laugh once, taking the cup from him and pressing your lips into a hard line. You only take three sugars in coffee shops because two is never enough. You’d stopped drinking coffee a few months back, but you weren’t going to ruin the moment by telling that. “Yeah, thank you.”

“My pleasure, pet.” He grins, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Fancy a walk?”

You inhale again and nod with a genuine smile. His smile widens, and he stands tall with an offer for you to take his hand.

So you do.

~~~

I kinda like this idk?

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