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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 3 years

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A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body.

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can.

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso.

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again.

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window.

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit.

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for.

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock.

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful.

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain.

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it?

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can.

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge.

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use.

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore.

K = Kinks

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity.

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold.

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence.

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench.

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail.

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping.

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest.

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”)

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.

#ysijwa #harry styles smut #vampire!harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles mature #harry styles dirty fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“it’s not that important”

Summary: Y/N is in Harry’s band and one night they have a drunken hook up. One thing leads to another and they find themselves engaging in a friend’s with benefits type of situation. spoiler: it is important

AKA: A friends with benefits to lovers story :) with some angst in there

This is for @stylesharrys fallinharry10k celebration so my trope is friends with benefits! prompt is “you have no goddamn idea what you do to me. when i’m around you, i have no control of my emotions or my thoughts” and the tenth picture ^ i kinda just used it in the beginning to descripe what he was wearing - i got really carried away with this story but the prompt is in there !! lol, not proofread tho but would love your feedback !!!! :) love y’all very much

oh boy i’ve had this done for agesss but i hadn’t written the smut until today so now we’re here i dont even remember what happens - i vaguely remember not loving the end but I hope yall enjoy

Word Count: 15.4k (longest fic to date) | Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, alcohol consumption? i dont remember but i dont think theres anything too heavy in here.

“Hey Harold!” You smile as you easily hop over the side of the couch and settle beside your bandmate.

Harry groans, yet can’t keep the small smile off of his face when he sees it’s you. “How many times have I told you to never call me that?”

Your eyes narrow at his faux glare. “And how many times have I told you, I simply do not care?”

You reach a hand out and tousle his already disheveled, unstyled brown hair. Despite his lack of styling, his hair still looked perfect. His chestnut hair fell into a middle part when he did nothing to it and you found it endearing. It made him look far younger than he truly was, like a boy you might have pursued when you were in your early days at college. The waves slightly framed his prominent cheekbones and chiseled jaw that was sporting a tiny amount of stubble.

He moves his arm from around the back of the couch to pat at his hair, trying to put it back in its nondescript position you had just messed with. After he’s satisfied, he uses the same hand to push up his glasses on the bridge of his nose. They’re chestnut brown Gucci frames that match the natural highlights in his hair. You can safely assume that’s why he bought them. The lenses are clear, but you know they don’t hold any prescription. He looks incredulously at you from behind them still.

“Nice glasses,” you mention offhandedly as you reach out to the coffee table to grab the drink you had left there earlier.

Before Harry had arrived, you had been taking up residence on the couch, in the spot he had actually taken up. You had ventured to the restroom for a moment and gotten held up in a conversation when asked your preference for the Beatles. Having to defend your staunch stance for the Beatles and against the Rolling Stones, you had gotten swept up into an argument with Adam. He believed that because the Rolling Stones toured for longer warranted them the title of best rock band. While you countered that despite their long touring and production of music, the Stones had a rotation of members. The Beatles maintained the four of them and held such a large impact even though they were barely together for a decade. They were one of a kind, or at least the first of their kind, you’d allow. You weren’t really in the mood for intellectual conversation tonight, so upon seeing Harry taking up your seat, you had told Adam you’d continue the discussion at a later date and returned to your spot.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles as his gaze flits around the room. He wasn’t sure if you were actually complimenting him, but he would take it as one either way.

The rest of your friends are all up and about, drinking, talking, dancing. It was the usual house party scene: a relatively intimate gathering, music you all actually liked, some friends of friends feeling slightly out of place. There was no pressure in this type of gathering but still Harry wasn’t necessarily in the party mood tonight. Usually, Harry was the one instigating these types of get-togethers with his friends and bandmates. He liked to be the life of the party, but as the tour loomed closer and closer, he felt some tinge of longing for quiet and solitude. He knew he wouldn’t have much quiet while on the road, which mostly didn’t scare him. He loved the stage and the high he received from performing and the gratification he felt from all the people in the room being there to see him. But there was also that other part of him that liked the quiet, the privacy. As the lack of alone time nudged itself around the corner, he had been hoping to enjoy solitude, or at the very least peace before he was on the road. Some sort of blissful state before technical chaos ensued. When Charlotte, the host of tonight’s soiree, had texted their group chat about tonight, Harry had politely declined. Then came the slew of private texts from Charlotte giving him all the reasons he should come tonight. He tried to say no again, but had shown up after the continued begging from her.

His appearance mirrored his expression, choosing a not perfectly fitted white t-shirt and random trousers rather than picking something he really loved, like usual. You could tell something was up and as his friend you were wondering what was wrong with him.

“Don’t sound so excited, Harry, someone might mistake you for somebody who’s happy to be here.” You stick your tongue into the side of your cheek, gauging his reaction.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re not very funny?” He quips, green eyes flashing to meet yours.

Your banter is probably how the pair of you communicated the best, never really falling into the whole serious side of friendship. You never shared those late night talks about the future or your fears. It was a fun friendship, so you didn’t fancy yourself one of his closest confidants. When it came to music, you and Harry were a bit more serious which formed a sort of paradox because the music you would share with each other gave a far greater insight into your souls than you probably realized. As a member of his band, you would discuss his music and what was going on with that sort of business part. But the sharing and discussion of other music that you did was part of your friendship, even if you didn’t see it like that. Because of the countless albums you had recommended to each other and the specific songs you had made note of, Harry and you knew each other much better than you thought you did. Music connects to something deep inside yourself and you have to like it enough and know the other person well enough to believe that they will also enjoy it to recommend it. As much tongue and cheek that you partook in with Harry, deep down, unbeknownst to either of you, you were that friend he shared his hopes and fears with, through the way he knew best, music.

“No, most people find me hilarious...”

You take a sip of your drink, trying to cover up the sting that his remark actually left. Most of the time you were great at keeping up with anyone’s banter, especially Harry’s, but tonight you weren’t feeling it. His tone had sounded so harsh it almost sounded like he meant it. His features soften when he sees the way your face falls, despite your sarcastic tone.

“‘M sorry. I’m just not in the best mood tonight. Didn’t want to come, but Charlotte…” He shifts to face you, arm retracting slightly around the couch, landing his hand at the edge of your shoulder. His fingers fiddle with themselves absentmindedly, he turns his rings around his fingers and they ever so slightly brush against your shoulder. You don’t mind, you know its his nervous tick that he did whenever he didn’t have something to clink them against.

“Yeah, same here, actually.” Your tuck an out of place hair behind your ear, returning your gaze to Harry, who’s tilting his head at you curiously. “But might as well make the most of it, though. After all, this is our last week before tour starts.” You raise your glass and tilt it towards him before taking a sip.

You really didn’t have a plan, you were just trying to make him feel a little better. It was seldom you saw him so solemn at this type of gathering. He usually was the one bouncing from group to group, entertaining everyone with his dazzling charm and quick wit. Sometimes he would bring a date and spend the night with them in the corner, but that was usually at bigger parties than this. At these types of gatherings you often found yourself talking with Charlotte for most of the night. You were both new additions in the band and you had clicked immediately. You would travel in a pair between different groups and talk with everyone. Sometimes you would tell a humorous anecdote about your life and everyone would laugh wholeheartedly. Your ability to retell a story and make it hilarious every time seemed to be your secret talent. You could make any experience into a ten-minute retelling and it always sounds like the funniest moment of your life. It ranged from your embarrassing audition for Grease as a tween to your supermarket run in with an old acquaintance or B-list celebrity the day before. It didn’t matter what it was, it just always had the entire circle of people laughing and wiping their eyes with joy. You’d laugh a little with themselves, but usually you just had a triumphant smile on your lips for the rest of the night.

He nods, sipping his own drink for the first time since you had settled down beside him. “Well, I’m all ears.”

“What?”

“Give me your suggestions on how to make the most of tonight.”

“Drinking, mostly, was my plan,” you laugh nervously as Harry continues to stare at you intently.

“Mostly?”

“I mean, what do you want me to say? I didn’t think to pack my bouncy castle, my bad.”

He bites back a laugh but lets some air escape his defined nose, before staring with a deadpan face at you.

You like to tease him. You simply liked him. Harry was different from other men you knew. You were pretty sure most people could say that though. Harry was just different. It seemed like no one could not have some sort of affection for him. With the playful friendship the pair of you had, you always skirted the edge of flirtation. But you also didn’t particularly ever want to cross any lines with him. He was the employer of you, technically. He had brought you into his backing band and you wouldn’t do anything to harm that position. As well, at the end of the day you knew Harry. His tendencies and the choices he made.

When you were around him at parties like this, you had to try really hard to keep him at an arm’s length. Because on one hand, you would drink and suddenly the boundaries you put up didn’t seem that important, instead his lips started to look rather inviting, but on the other, you knew that he was extremely emotionally closed off to any relationship that was more than either friendship or a one night stand.

Harry doesn’t give you a response, just swings back his drink. The pair of you sit and drink in silence. Before you know it, Harry and you are five drinks in, finally talking after the second. The pair of you decide to move to the balcony outside and continue your conversation there after the third. After the fourth, you're getting really handsy and by the end of the fifth, Harry’s arm is wrapped tightly around your waist and you're laughing breathlessly into his neck. It looks like he’s just shielding you from the cold night air, but both of you seemed to be enjoying each other’s embrace for other reasons.

Finally catching your breath, you lean back and pant softly as you meet eyes with Harry. His pupils have blown out from the alcohol and dark light. The emerald green barely surrounds the black and you swear there’s flecks of gold or maybe brown in them. Your brows scrunch at the revelation and Harry asks what you’re thinking. You don’t respond, too entranced and drunk to even hear him.

“Oi,” he bops your nose, “What is goin’ on in there, little lady?”

Your hand reaches up and widens Harry’s eye manually. His inebriated state has no qualms about you doing such an odd thing. “Why’s your green not actually green?”

“What?” He asks before moving your hand away from his face, it instead falls to his chest. The pair of you shift until your caged between his body and the balcony’s ledge. You pout as you stare up at him. His skin looks soft and taught over every inch of his face and neck. The urge to kiss him keeps nagging at the back of your mind. The idea keeps creeping up closer and closer and the drunker you are the less likely you are to suppress it.

“Do you want to fuck me?” You blurt out.

“Sure.” Harry isn’t taken aback. He had been thinking about asking for a while, so he was glad you had asked first, made it easier for him.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He takes you back to your place, the pair of you catching a cab the short distance between yours and Charlotte’s flats. No one blinks an eye at the pair of you leaving together. Everyone watched the pair of you sulk all night about being there and only enjoying the other’s company, so they weren’t keen on either of you staying. Charlotte was simply glad the pair of you had stayed for as long as you did.

The two of you walk casually until you’re inside your bedroom. Once inside, Harry throws you on the bed and fucks you. Hard. He’s got you spread out in more ways than you had ever thought possible. He’s got you saying things you had never even dreamed of saying. And he’s got you cumming and screaming more than you could have ever wanted. He enjoys himself as well. He loves the way you feel around him and the way your eyes look up at him while he fucks you straight into the bed. He loves the way you sound whispering dirty things and screaming his name. He loves the feel of your soft skin all over your body as he pushes deep inside you. He loves the way you’re able to rip a guttural moan from him every time he cums. And he cums three times that night. While it wasn’t quiet, he did find that blissful state he had been in desperate need of.

After the third round, Harry feels spent. He brings himself into a sitting position, legs hanging off the edge of your bed. You’re lying in your bed, completely overstimulated, cumming at least twice as many times as Harry. He scratches at the top of his head, his bicep bulging as he folds his arms around himself.

“That was fucking good, Y/N. Just what I needed.”

You can only hum in response.

Then he takes your blanket and lays it over you. After that he begins to stand up, getting ready to grab his things and go.

“You don’t have to go…” your voice raises when you realize what he’s doing.

“Yeah, I do. This was just a one time thing, yeah? I enjoyed it, but you know...”

“Erm, I guess?” You rolled to fully look at him, he was pulling his t-shirt back on now, his marked chest disappearing beneath the white fabric. “Do you really not stay over at your one night stands?”

He thinks about it as he begins with his shoes and his glasses at the same time. “Yes? Usually I don’t know the person and I don’t particularly want to sign an autograph when I leave in the morning. Best to leave immediately afterwards.”

“That was exactly why I wanted you to stay...Shit! No chance you’ll give me an autograph now? Could sign my tit, right next to your hickies.”

He laughs, automatically in a better mood after the catharsis of having sex. It was also a relief for him that you didn’t seem to be weird about the hook up. “Shut up!”

“You’re a twat, Harold.” He groans instinctively at the annoying nickname, not caring about the ‘twat’ part. “But be my guest, you can freeze your arse off while waiting for your cab outside at this hour.”

“Rude..” He mutters, standing in your doorway now. “You wouldn’t actually make your employer stand out in the cold at this time of night. I haven’t even got a jumper. Could get a cold and ruin my voice. ”

“You’re the one who says it’s best to leave immediately. Get on it, mister.”

Your hand makes a shooing movement, but he doesn’t budge. You sigh as he makes a puppy dog face - eyes wide and a puckered pout with his flushed cheeks and lips - playing into your actual kindness, that he knows is somewhere. Your sweetness that you were keeping hidden from Harry right now. Nothing was serious between you so it made sense that you were trying not to let your innate ability to care show as he’s about to walk out on you.

“Ugh, fine. Stop looking at me like that. Just grab one of my coats from the bottom right, they’re all oversized so one should fit.” He doesn’t relent on the face. “And you can stay inside until your cab comes.” You sigh and throw one of your pillows at him. He catches it easily and throws it back, much softer than your throw. “Also never pull the employer card on me again when I’m naked in the bed you just fucked me in,” you call as he looks through your closet.

Returning with a patchwork coat you had thrifted tight over his shoulders, he looks at you seriously, “Yeah sorry about that part. Definitely wasn’t trying to exert my power over you, it sounded better in my head. Meant more like you could ruin my voice and both of our jobs.”

You nod and chuckle slightly, finding how inarticulate Harry could be as an endearing trait. His explanation didn’t actually make it sound better. “The jacket fits.” You say, choosing to move forward from Harry’s weirdness, knowing he didn’t mean any harm from his initial statement.

“Yeah, thanks. I think my cab is here,” He glances at his phone, “So I’ll go...See you?”

“I’m sure.” You smile, “We do in fact work together and will soon be touring the world. Would be a bit weird if I didn’t see you.”

“Right.” He nods and adds a peace sign before he walks out of your sight. You know he’s gone when you hear the door click shut. What an interesting night.

Love on Tour had just started and Harry couldn’t lie. He couldn’t keep his mind off of you. You were both his most recent partner and the best he had had in a while. He found himself rubbing over the spots on his neck and clavicle that you had given particular attention to during the night you had shared together. When he went to bed it was your body he pictured to get himself off. So, after the first show he’s beelining to you at the beginning of the after party. He’s got an adrenaline high and he needs a release. You’re the solution. He’s whispering in your ear, asking if you’d like to meet him in his dressing room. Your eyes study his face when he pulls back and they widen slightly when the realization of what he’s implying dawns on you. Then you’re nodding and excusing yourself from a random conversation five minutes later.

Inside Harry’s dressing room, you find Harry already unbuttoning his shirt. He grabs your face and shoves his lips onto yours once you lock the door. As he kisses you he tries to make one thing very clear, “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Got it.” You begin to finish Harry’s job of taking off his shirt.

He pulls back to look you in the eye, “Are you okay with that?”

“Jesus fuck, yes, Harry, just shut up and fuck me senseless again!”

He listens to you and begins to kiss down your jaw and neck. His open-mouth kisses leave a searing trail across your skin. He settles on a spot at the base of your neck and begins to suck and nip at it with vigor. You set to work on finishing his job of unbuttoning his shirt. Then you pull off your own shirt, reaching behind you to untie the bows at the back. The new skin exposed grabs Harry’s attention and he moves down to suck over the cleavage of your tits. He’s happy to be back with his ‘bosom friends’. You smack his head when he says it and he chuckles darkly, only sucking harder on them causing you to moan louder than you would like.

Once you’re both in only your underwear, you find your back pressed up against the mirror behind the dressing room counter. Harry’s body is nestled between your spread legs as he kisses down your skin. His fingers dance along the line of your thong as he looks up from beneath his lashes for position, you only push his head closer to your heat in response. He laughs mischievously before tugging them down off your hips.

“Missed this pretty little cunt...All I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout,” He mutters as he begins to latch onto your dripping core.

Your brows shoot up at the thought that Harry’s mind has been stuck on you for the past week. You definitely had thought about your drunken hook up a bit, but hadn’t thought it had left a lasting impression on Harry, you assumed he had that lovely of a night with every person he chose to spend intimate time with. These thoughts are forgotten when Harry’s warm tongue is lapping at your swollen bud. You’re already panting for Harry and now you’re heaving with moans and whimpers leaving your mouth with every lick and nip of his expert mouth.

“Fuck Harry, feels so good,” you whine as his tongue travels down your folds and swirls and dips into your hole.

He moans at your words and the way your legs squeeze at his head. His hands move to spread you open wide to maintain his control and he smirks at the way your body rolls due to the friction of his voice against your pussy.

“Be a good girl f’me,” he growls still pressed against your wet heat.

Your body rolls again as you get closer and closer to your first release. Your bite your lip trying to contain all of the sounds that are trying to escape your mouth. Harry notices the new silence and glances up seeing how you’re trying to behave. As much as he likes you obeying his words, he also wanted to hear how he was pleasuring you.

“Tell me how you feel, princess,” he demands.

“So-so good,” you hiccup as his fingers caress over your folds now as he looks you in the eyes, his lips wet with your slick. He kisses you hard, his tongue diving into your mouth and you kiss back passionately, loving your taste on his tongue.

He pulls back and your hands trail down his chest, swirling around his familiar tattoos and hair that grace his lower torso as you move. He grins, enjoying the feeling of you on him and how he was affecting you.

Soon enough, his cock is finding its way back to your glistening folds, wet with your own liquids as well as his saliva. His mouth waters at the sight. He only pushes into you a few times like this. Then he catches sight of himself in the mirror in front of him and can’t resist. He pulls out and flips you over, your squeal leaving your mouth before you can stop yourself. His dick finds your entrance once again, not wanting to be without the wonderful warmth for any longer than he must.

“Ahhh,” Harry groans when he slips back inside.

Your head throws back on your neck, the feeling of him as well as the sight of him gripping your hair in one hand and your fleshy hip in the other. His rings dig into the skin as he’s able to slam more forcefully in this position. You gasp and whine at his motions. The sounds coming from between your legs are turning you on even more and they seem to make Harry happy too. He picks up the pace and drops the grasp of your hair for a second. Your head falls down as you try to keep yourself up on your elbows.

Gripping both of your hips, Harry growls, “Look at me while I fuck you. C’mon now.”

You moan in response and tear your eyes open to see your reflections in the mirror. One hand goes up to hold onto the mirror to give yourself more traction, causing your back to arch even more. The new position has Harry’s cock slamming into you deeper.

“Fuck!” Harry practically yells and can’t keep himself from landing a harsh slap on your ass. You jump forward at the sting but his other hand keeps the pace steady. He keeps burying himself into you all the way to his base, his balls slapping at your now slick spread thighs. He rubs over the red handprint he had just left on your ass. You whimper and bite your lip, truly enjoying the sensation.

Still staring into the mirror as Harry commanded, your eyes water slightly and Harry makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You smile widely and he grins back. “This feels so fucking good. Your pussy takes me so well. Fuck…” Harry babbles, still pistoning into you. You had noticed how vocal he was the first time you had fucked, but thought it had just been the alcohol. Apparently not. But you didn’t mind, you much preferred it to partners who barely spoke or didn’t even moan. Like how were you supposed to know what was going on in their minds? With Harry, you knew he was having a good time.

A few more heavy thrusts and you felt yourself nearing the edge. Your panting was getting faster, exceeding the speed of Harry’s thrusts and he could also feel you were close. Your cunt began squeezing him tighter so he hooked a hand under your knee and brought it onto the table. He hunched over you slightly and snaked his hand to your clit. “C’mon darling, I know you're close. Can feel that little cunt putting a choke hold on my cock.” He rubs at your clit with the vigor of strumming a quick paced song on the guitar. It’s enough to overtake your senses and the laugh that had bubbled from his words turns into your orgasm moan. You try to muffle it into the arm that is holding you against the mirror to avoid a full on scream because it feels that good. You felt like you were having your first ever orgasm, it felt that new to you.

A few more thrusts and you’ve come down from it, but Harry still hasn’t finished. It’s your turn to be the partner coaxing the other to get off. “Faster, Har. Want you to cum too.” He grunts, picking back up the pace. He had slowed to let you ride out your stay. “That’s it...want you to cum in me. Your cock feels so fucking good.” You whine, meaning every word. He smiles again at you and closes his eyes, focusing on chasing his high. You watch as his smile widens to that open mouth grin, “Fuck,” he almost whispers. And there it is. There’s a twitch in his hips that mirrors his expression and then he’s pulling out and cumming on your back. His voice is now even lower and raspier than before as he babbles how good that was and how tight your pussy was. It was sweet nothings, but extremely explicit and you sighed heavily, feeling a small orgasm wash over you again. His final thrusts and voice pushing you off the cliff again easily.

The two of you take a minute to bring your breathing back to normal and Harry goes to clean your back off.

“So..how do you feel about maybe doing this regularly?” Harry asks sheepishly as he begins to pull his pants back on.

“Like a friends with benefits kind of thing? Or bandmates with benefits, rather.” You laugh breathlessly at your not really funny joke, but you’re now truly exhausted. From the show and the fuck, you felt thouroughly worked out.

“I guess that’s what it is, yeah.”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

“You’re honestly so chill, Y/N. It’s fuckin’ hot.”

You laugh and flip your hair dramatically. You’re only in your bra and panties right now and Harry licks his lips, finding your playfulness to be a turn on. “What can I say?” You laugh.

“But like I said before...it’s just sex.” He’s buttoning up his shirt and looking at your reflection through the mirror now. He watches you slip the pants you had been wearing back on.

“Oh, Harold, I know.” On cue, he groans and turns around to face you after fixing his mused hair in the mirror. Interrupting yourself, you turn your back to Harry, “Can you tie this, sorry it’s hard for me to get the -” Harry walks to you without any hesitation and begins tying the silk ribbons on the back of your shirt. “Thanks. Anyway,” you turn to face him when he’s finished and you place both of your palms on his chest. “Trust me, I know you’ve got your issues and I’m not looking to be the girl that tries to change you. I know what this is. I only ask that you let me know when you sleep with other people, because once you do, you won’t need me.” Harry nods and you pat your hands against him. You both smile and go your separate ways when you leave the dressing room.

Harry and you fucked almost every night on tour. Sometimes it was right after, on the counter in his dressing rooms. Sometimes it was later in the evening in his hotel room or yours. He stopped leaving immediately after your hook ups. He never kicked you out of his room so he decided it was fine for him to stay in yours. Especially because you weren’t a stranger who would be weird with him in the morning. He also didn’t like trekking through the hotel halls late at night.

The first few times you stayed in the same bed, the two of you stayed on opposite sides of the bed, not touching after you were finished engaging in your sexual endeavours. Rigid bodies against the edges of the mattress. Then one particularly long night, filled with multiple rounds, Harry was so exhausted from his performance on stage and off that he collapsed on top of you. He fell asleep there and you didn’t particularly mind. It felt nice to be slightly compressed and held. He shifted in his sleep and when he woke up he wasn’t upset to find you nestled into his side with his arms wrapped around you. After that, cuddling sort of became part of the routine. After you were done having sex, Harry or you would get up to clean up and bring back waters. Then you would settle in his arms. Sometimes in a spooning position and sometimes you cradled softly into his chest. You didn’t talk about it, it just happened.

One night it was your head directly on top of his butterfly tattoo, one leg thrown over his lower torso and your arm snuggly wrapped around his middle. He liked to pet your hair when you laid against his chest in that way. His fingers would fiddle with the strands and you liked it because he usually took off his rings before he would do it and his hands felt so soft and delicate against you. Harry liked the way he felt when he would hold you afterwards. It was calming to fall asleep against your soft skin and feel your fingertips trace lyrics to songs he wasn’t sure the name of against his own.

No one knew about how your friendship with Harry worked. To the rest of the world, you seemed to be someone who had become another close friend in the band. You were similar to Mitch in many respects. Except for when Harry winked at you during a show, it wasn’t a friendly wink, it was a ‘this song makes me horny and I can’t wait to relieve the pressure by fucking you later’ kind of wink. You knew this because Harry had gone over and whispered it in your ear during a quick break, when you had only looked at him weirdly after he did it.

Before the show tonight, you pulled Harry aside, “So what are we thinking tonight? I feel like I might want to ride you...Haven’t been on top in a while.” In the darkness of the backstage, you crane your neck to take Harry’s earlobe between your teeth. He groans softly and grips your hips to guide them against his for a second. “Sounds fuckin’ fantastic, love.” You twitch back, releasing him immediately at the word. You always told him not to call you that and he tried to reason with you, that it was just something he called people. But you disliked it a lot, adding it to the growing list of rules the pair of you had for the do’s and don'ts of being friends with benefits with each other.

“Harold,” you groan and he steps back at that pet name. While he hated this, you refused to let him put it on the list because it didn’t cross any lines with your physical arrangement. Not that there was any physical list to put it on, it was more of a theoretical list that the two of you would speak of occasionally.

“Sorry.” He says eventually, “Didn’t mean it.” You both laugh.

You think about how other relationships were sometimes desperate to hear their partner express their love for them and you believe you’re grateful for the simplicity of your arrangement. The term relationship regarding what you and Harry were doing was also in the ‘don’t’ category on the list. If either of you were being honest, there should be no need for a list and you should be questioning yourselves why you felt the need to set boundaries if one part of it was physical and the other part was your friendship and job. If it truly was just physical why were boundaries constantly needing to be set and followed? But right now honesty was not in the cards.

After the show Harry gets delayed with press or fans or something that you don’t really care about. You barely read the text that he sends, only caring about the ‘sorry got held up’ and the ‘be there in thirty’.

You let yourself into his room and wait on the bed, flipping through your phone, completely unbothered by the rest of the world. When you hear a knock on the door, you don’t think twice about getting up and opening the door. You only realize your terrible mistake when it’s Mitch and not Harry standing at what you’re also just realizing isn’t your door, but instead Harry’s.

“Shit!” you say under your breath as Mitch looks at you confused.

The room is dark behind you because Harry would have just entered and gotten down to business. He might turn on a side lamp, but you hadn’t felt the need to have light on while you waited. Forgetting all of that, you had just gone to the door and opened it.

Mitch tucks some of his hair behind his ear as he stares at you. “Is Harry here?”

“Er..No?” It comes out as a question. You rub the back of your ankle with your foot, feeling nervous.

“Is he actually not here or?” Mitch trails off, narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, no he’s really not here. I’m waiting for him, too.” You rush your words, but try to remain calm.

“You have a key to his room. And you’re waiting in the dark.” He says. They’re not questions and you’re not sure just how guilty you look.

“Yeah!” You try to come up with a non suspicious response, hoping there’s a way to still salvage your’s and Harry’s secret, “He gave me his key because he wanted to talk about something and I kept it dark because my eyes always hurt after shows. Kind of like a migraine.” You scratch at your head and smile, trying to convince Mitch. He seems to believe you as he nods slowly and opens his eyes more.

There’s a little bit of an awkward silence and Mitch shifts his weight between his feet, looking at you still. Just as you're about to invite Mitch to come wait inside with you, Harry steps out of the elevator and begins to walk down the hall. His key card is already in hand and your eyes widen. Harry’s expression mirrors yours when he realizes Mitch is standing outside of his door and that you are standing with him. “Mitch!” Harry says, placing his hand on Mitch’s shoulder and sliding his key card into his back pocket with the other. Mitch turns to Harry without seeing him put away the other key card and you look at the pair of them.

“I was just telling Mitch how you gave me your key card so we could talk about...that thing.” You interject, flicking the lights on in Harry’s room as casually as possible. Harry shoots you a look about how you couldn’t come up with an actual reason for being there. You shrug your shoulders helplessly.

Mitch looks between the two of you and feels some weird tension and he’s not sure if it's always there and he’s just noticing or if something is going on right now.

“Yeah, well, I came to stop by to talk about the riff in Canyon Moon. Something is wonky with it.”

“Oh! Sure,” Harry nods to Mitch and then glances at you, “Y/N, we can talk about that other thing later. It’s not that important anyway.” His tone is so casual and nonchalant. You stare at him, thinking he can’t be serious. You had been almost sure he would send Mitch away, but instead you were being kicked to the curb. When he doesn’t say sike or anything of the sort, you nod. “Okay,” then you mumble a ‘good luck’ with figuring out the problem with the song. Mitch walks in the door, but Harry’s eyes stay fixed on your figure retreating down the hallway. He watches you disappear and is only pulled from his thoughts when Mitch calls his name from the couch in the room.

After reaching your floor, you key into your room and get ready for bed. Just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, completely alone for once in a long time, there’s another knock. This time you check the peephole, a habit you realized you were going to have to get better at. It’s Harry. You open the door and walk away immediately once he’s entered the room.

“Why are you here?”

“Thought we could still...” He follows you into the room, trying to make out your face in the darkness.

“I’m not in the mood anymore.” Your tone gives away your annoyance. You couldn’t hide that you were mad at Harry for sending you away. It made you feel weird. The way he did it so easily made you feel like you were extremely disposable and unwanted.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he lays down beside you. You turn to face him when he places a hand on the small of your back. You’re face to face and your noses are almost brushing. It’s not really possible to see each other’s features, but after months of hooking up you knew each other’s faces pretty well. You could reach out and pinpoint all of Harry’s freckles and moles on his face and neck right now and be correct. He could likely do the same. The theory is proven correct when he reaches out and his hand dances down your cheek. “Just thought it would be less suspicious if I didn’t get rid of him. Couldn’t make him wait either…”

“I know,” your voice is small and soft, just above a whisper, “I forgive you.” You scoot closer to him and Harry instinctively wraps his arm around you, bringing you tightly into him. You sigh into his neck and he shivers at your warm breath on his slightly clammy skin. When you lick your lips, they brush lightly against his skin. He laughs at the feeling, so you decide to press an intentional kiss to the hollow in his neck. In response, he presses a kiss to your hairline, his lips slightly chapped after the concert.

The kisses are tender, filled with that thing neither of you dare attribute to anything the two of you did in the dark. The word you told him time and time again to not call you. So is just about every touch and word that has been exchanged in this room since Harry entered it. You fall asleep wrapped up in his arms, a soft smile resting on both of your faces. Neither of you seem to mind that you didn’t actually have sex tonight or anything even close to it.

When you wake up you feel especially well rested. You shift around and realize your bed is empty besides you. It depended on the day, but it was always a toss up between Harry being there when you woke up or not. However, lately, you had found it was usually the former. You would linger longer and so would Harry in each other’s rooms, lounging in each other’s embrace under the soft glow of the morning light peaking through whatever windows the room had. Today you were cold at his absence. Then you look up and realize you aren’t completely alone. Harry is standing at the end of your bed, staring down at his phone, smiling.

“Hey.”

You wait for his reply, but he doesn’t look up from his phone. “Hey, Harold,” you repeat. His head snaps up, a grimace on his face at the name. He slips his phone in his pocket and ruffles his hair. “Hey.” He finally responds. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you seem to find it necessary to talk about what happened last night. Harry definitely seemed a little off to you this morning, but you try to shake it from your thoughts. There was no reason to be upset with him being quiet. He didn’t owe you anything, you hadn’t even slept together last night, so if anything it was weird he stayed as long as he did.

It was the second night at the Forum in Los Angeles. This means no travelling necessary. No day off either, tomorrow you’d have a day off before the third and final show at the venue though.

Harry and you were talking normally at the venue, mostly about the setlist - him and Mitch had changed something for whatever reason last night, which was fine. Your banter was to a minimum, but you were trying to convince yourself that nothing was off. Even though it felt like something was different, you couldn’t place your finger on what it was, so you thought it was best to ignore it.

When Harry is about to go out on stage, you don’t pull him aside and when he introduces the members of the band to the audience, he doesn’t say anything fun or silly about you. He doesn’t wink or come up to you at any point in the performance. It’s so unusual the rest of your bandmates are giving you funny looks. Charlotte looks at you from across your keyboard in a way that she’s asking if you’re okay. You shake your head at everyone trying to signal that you’re fine.

Mitch goes over to Harry and whispers in his ear to check in with him, Harry looks at him with a bright smile on his face and says “of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Mitch looks between the pair of you, thinking back to last night and how weird the pair of you were being then. Maybe it dawns on him then what might be going on between the two of you, but if he did, he wouldn’t mention it for a long time.

You falter a bit on your back up vocals tonight. You’re trying to give it your all, like always, but for some reason your voice isn’t sounding the way you want it. About halfway through the show, when your voice comes out the exact opposite of how you would like, Harry finally gives you a second glance. His face practically emotionless, save for the single arched brow. He’s concerned, but not concerned enough where he would go over to you. He just doesn’t understand why you keep missing the right note tonight. You make a shake of your hand to say I don’t know either. He just shrugs and turns back around to continue the show, his lively smile returning while he turns his head.

After the show, Charlotte, Sarah, and you are all checking in, going over what had happened during the show in general. They’re both worried about your voice and you’re simply trying to tell them that it was just an off night. Nothing was wrong. As long as you told everyone else that, then it might turn out to be true.

“It’s fine, maybe I didn’t get enough sleep last night,” you fib, having gotten more sleep last night than most other nights on this tour. They both nod, seeming to take that as a reasonable answer.

Then Charlotte gets quieter as she whispers to the three of you, “Did you guys notice anything weird with Harry? He was super lively, but he barely interacted with you, Y/N, which is so unlike him...”

Sarah nods while you look skeptically on. Sarah adds, “He kept looking up to the boxes, too. More than usual at least. I don’t know though…” She trails off and you cross your arms over your chest, not really enjoying the conversation topic. “I mean, what do you think, Y/N?” Sarah adds.

Your eyes dance between the two women, your fellow bandmates, your friends. You sometimes wished you could share with them what you were doing with Harry. The secret was fun, but it’s also nice to be able to share with your girlfriends about the guy you’re seeing, even if it is a casual thing. The friendly gossip of it all is something fun to share, but sadly that was another thing you couldn’t do. You sigh, “You never really know what’s going on in his mind, y’know. He’s just Harry.” Your response is half-assed at best. You figure they’ll both give you shit for the non-answer you just supplied, but instead someone else speaks for them.

“I am in fact, just Harry.” He says and you swivel around to find yourself almost chest to chest with him. Charlotte laughs while Sarah simply smiles. Your eyes are huge as you stare up at him and you hope your blush doesn’t come out too strongly after being caught talking about Harry by himself. “Enlighten me on when I was being ‘just Harry’ though?” You bite your lip and take a step back from him, forming more of a line with the other women. He shrugs when no one offers a response, laughing lightly.

“Oh and Y/N, I can’t talk about that thing again tonight, I’ve got-”

“A date?” Charlotte asks, trying to understand why Harry was acting a little different tonight still. The part that Sarah had mentioned about him looking up into the boxes had given her the idea that he might have plans with someone after the show. Harry scratches his head, his hair slightly wet with sweat right after the show. He’s taken off his coat so he’s just in the almost completely unbuttoned, sweat soaked shirt he had been wearing underneath. It sticks tight to his skin and you can make out all the muscle lines that hide beneath the fabric that you usually get to caress. Your eyes flit from his body back to his face when he speaks again.

“Erm, I wasn’t going to phrase it like that...but yes, I suppose, it’s a date.” He says finally, he avoids your eye contact and you look at him very confused, trying to hide the hurt. He shoves his hands in his pockets trying to look and sound as casual as possible and ignore the strain he sees on your face. Is that what had held him up yesterday? Making plans with someone else? And he hadn’t told you until now? The past twenty four hours stung a little bit more now that you knew why Harry was being so distant. It simply felt icky finding out this way and it didn’t even seem like he was going to tell you it was a date.

“Okay,” you say simply and walk away. You hear Charlotte asking him details about his date, but you try actively not to hear any of it. Sarah watches you walk away and sees the way you wrap your arms around yourself to comfort you. She feels a twinge of sadness as she watches the scene unfold, seeing something she hadn’t realized was there before.

Harry doesn’t text or call you that night. You hang out with everyone else for a little while in Charlotte’s room before heading to bed, saying you think you need an early night tonight. Before you’re able to walk out of the door, Mitch stops you. “I heard Harry blew off whatever conversation the two of you have been trying to have again. Just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” You try to smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. There is no conversation Harry is blowing off, it’s simply you. “It’s fine. Like he said yesterday, it’s not important.” Mitch nods, but still looks at you with concern. What he had seen last night, then on stage today, and what Sarah had told him about your interaction after the show it all strung together in his mind. It didn’t seem unimportant at all. But he didn’t know how he could tell you that. He felt like he should talk to Harry about the way you looked when you left Charlotte’s room tonight, but he didn’t know how to bring it up to him either.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you're in the elevator, and it’s slowly rising to your floor of the hotel. You’re only one level up, but it feels like an eternity in there. You already weren’t a fan of elevators, but this ride felt impossibly worse. The walls are all made up of mirrors and you see yourself in the reflection, but you don’t exactly recognize the girl in there. Your eyes are tired from the show, dark circles already formed. Your hands are aching, clenching and unclenching on their own accord. Your body is slumped against the back wall, likely leaving a slight imprint from the smoke residue and dust on your clothes. Worst of all are the tears running down your face, smudging at your makeup, the black mascara you had applied dripping down in sinister raindrops against your skin. The sad girl stares back at you as you sniffle slightly, confused at what you’re seeing. “Why are you crying?” you ask yourself, your voice creaking and then breaking at the end as you struggle to get out the word ‘crying’ before a sob wracks through you. You roll your eyes when your reflection offers no explanation for itself. You laugh at your own patheticness and try to shake the feelings you’re experiencing.

Inside your room now, you flop on the bed and stare straight up at the ceiling. Your arms spread to your sides and your legs lay limply below you. You think about every night before last, every night since the tour started. Every night where you weren’t alone, where you were with Harry. Your mind flits to last night, how Harry’s lips had ghosted over your skin after his apology. How you had told him you forgave him and it had felt so peaceful, so simple. It was all so easy. Thinking about him and the things the two of you did together brought a smile to your face, unbeknownst to you. When you realize it’s there, your face drops immediately, deciding not to think about Harry.

But trying to not think about Harry makes you only think about him more and what you think about him now most definitely doesn’t bring a smile to your face. You’re thinking about him out on his date with some person you chose to learn nothing about. Maybe out of fear of what is happening right now. By knowing nothing about the person, you can’t compare yourself to them. Can’t see what’s different about them that would make Harry go out on a date with them. But it doesn’t matter who they are or what they look like because at the end of it all you know one thing for certain. They’re not you. You correct yourself, you know two things actually, because you also know that Harry chose to be with them instead of you tonight.

You fall asleep with tear stained cheeks that night and absolutely nothing positive on your mind. You want to sleep but know it only brings whatever is bound to happen tomorrow, which doesn’t seem very promising.

It’s noon when you wake up and you wake to a knocking on your door. You grumble and throw a sweatshirt over your body to hide the underwear you slept in. Not remembering your new habit, you swing the door open without any hesitation to find Harry. He looks wide awake and happy, the way he almost always looks, a fresh beautiful flower of a man. You look at him groggily, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Because I was asleep?” You tilt your head and look at him incredulously. “What about this,” you gesture to your appearance, “looks like I just went for a 3 mile jog for fun and I love the morning?”

“Can I come in?” He ignores everything you just said and enters the room when you leave the door to get back in bed. You often did that with him, you don’t know why, but when he asked to come in the room it was just simpler to let him in then say anything. He knew what you meant.

He sits at the edge of the bed as you reclaim your spot in the middle of it, tucked slightly under the covers, but still sitting up. “How was your date?” You try to sound nonchalant and it seems to work. Harry doesn’t notice your tense figure, but you notice how he tenses up when you ask.

“Good…Her name was-” You don’t let him finish, you already know the answer to this next question and you don’t need her name in order to ask it, “Did you fuck her?”

He’s silent, green eyes staring straight at you. You meet his gaze, your eyes almost burning holes into him. His eyes are begging you to not make him answer the question, he doesn’t want this to end, even if he also didn’t want the commitment he had felt himself exhibiting the other night.

When he had come to your room the other night after Mitch had almost caught you, he knew he shouldn’t have stayed. He didn’t want you to feel bad so he had come to apologize, but when the pair of you didn’t have sex, he should have left. But he didn’t, he stayed and it wasn’t for you, it was for himself. It was for him to hold you in his arms because he liked to. But when he woke up the next morning he knew he needed to leave. Solely cuddling wasn’t part of your arrangement together. It’s probably on the list of don'ts that the pair of you had. So after he realized the line he had willingly crossed with you, he quickly sent a text to Jeff who had tried to set him up with a model they were acquaintances with the night before - the reason he had gotten held up. Harry had initially declined, not very interested in seeing anyone else but you. But looking back on that choice in the light of day seemed to solidify what this relationship was - a relationship - and Harry didn’t like that. The commitment wasn’t part of the plan, so he told Jeff to set that date up for after the second show at the Forum and give the woman a ticket. That’s why he was smiling at his phone the morning after only cuddling with you, that’s why he didn’t joke around with you during the show, and that’s why he wasn’t in your bed last night.

You watch him expectantly, silently waiting for his answer, your veins cold as ice. He finally starts his answer and he wants to make it clear that it wasn’t as good with the other woman, but he’s not sure how to work that part in. He’s not sure how to explain to you it meant nothing if your arrangement also apparently meant nothing. You barely even let him get in a sentence. “Yes, but it was just a one time-”

“Alright.”

“What?” He doesn’t understand what you mean when you nod your head and cut him off.

“I told you at the beginning, Harry. Tell me when you sleep with someone else because when you do this is over. It doesn’t matter if she’s the love of your life or a one night stand. I will not be a backup plan, so if you’re able to find other people to sleep with, you don’t need to be sleeping with me.”

He sits in silence for a moment, his jaw dropped open slightly. He’s unable to keep it shut as his mind races about what to say. “Are you mad with me?”

“No, I’m fine. This was just sex. Charlotte will be happy that I’ll be going out with her more.”

Harry’s brow furrows as you shift away from him on the bed, grabbing your phone and beginning to flick through it. You feel numb and you’d like to not think about why.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks because he does care about you, worry is written all over his face. He just can’t commit, not now.

“What would I be mad about, Harry?” You look up and your eyes widen at him, silently asking him to truthfully say why you should be so upset about this revelation. You always knew it would eventually come to an end, you just hadn’t expected so soon. You hadn’t known the last time would be the last time and it broke your heart even if you knew it shouldn’t.

He shifts to reach his hand out to touch your exposed knee. You move away from him and he sighs, looking exasperated. “I- I don’t know. It just seems like we should talk about this.”

“You didn’t even think it was necessary to tell me you were going on a date last night, so I think it’s best if we just left it at ‘it’s fine, see you around’.”

He spreads his hands out across the sheets, examining his rings and painted nails thoroughly. You’re right, he doesn’t really want to talk about this. Well, more so, he’s conflicted. He would like to talk enough that you want to continue your arrangement but he doesn’t want to talk about feelings or emotions. Even if he has those feelings and emotions, they’re just not part of the things he’d like to talk about. “But-” You set your phone down at his first word, “Were you even going to tell me you fucked someone else today if Charlotte hadn’t asked you if it was a date last night? Would you just have come to my room tonight and acted like nothing had changed?”

“I would have told you.”

“Sure.”

“I swear I would’ve. I would never break a promise to you.”

“But you would make a decision that affects the both of us without telling me until afterwards?” Your voice breaks a little and you beg yourself not to cry right now.

“I thought you said this was just sex?”

You laugh humorlessly, in disbelief, “Of course it’s not, Harry! And it hasn’t been for a long time and that’s why you got scared and went and fucked someone else.” He looks at you blankly, unsure what to say, knowing you’re right. You continue, “But I also told you at the beginning of this, that I wasn’t going to try to change you. So this is me not trying to change you.” You sigh when he still says nothing, his expression completely unreadable, even to you. “Why couldn’t you have left it at ‘it’s fine’?” You say finally, barely above a whisper.

He blinks a few times after your final question. He flexes his hand one more time and then stands up from the bed. He adjusts his clothes and stares at you. You feel helpless, but you’re still trying to look pulled together, even after your outburst. You stare back. A thousand words floating through your heads, all the things you want to say and likely never will.

“I know, I’m…” he pauses, trying to get himself to say it, but he can’t. He can’t admit that he’s completely ruined whatever messed up paradise you had created together. “I’ll see you later.”

The apology or lack there of hangs in the air as he walks silently out your door. You don’t move, you barely even blink, still staring at the spot he had just occupied. Your breath finally escapes you, a large sigh. Then some nervous laughter. It was over...just like that. But things like this, left like this are never really over.

It’s awkward for a good amount of the rest of the tour. You hang out with your bandmates more and Harry rarely ever comes out with them after the shows. He either hangs out with Mitch on his own or is going out with random people he knows on the road. You and him speak, but it’s never a lot or about anything relatively meaningful. It’s not the fun back and forth of before or the fiery heat of sneaking around. You try to be normal with him, act like his casual friend and bandmate.

He does his best to do the same, but it’s difficult for him. He doesn’t know how to talk to you anymore. He misses being with you, but can’t bring himself to fix it. He doesn’t do much to right his wrongs with you. He also doesn’t even know what he would want if he did apologize. It scared him to think about the step that came after ‘sorry’ so he saved himself the trouble and never did that part either. One night he texts you: “I’m trying, it’s just hard.” and that’s it. You don’t give him a response, he doesn’t need one. You know he’s trying and he knows you know.

Near the end of the tour, he comes out with the rest of you for drinks one night. Only Mitch is between the two of you in the booth, so you feel closer to Harry than you’ve felt in a long time. The group of you are chatting and having a good time. You somehow get onto a story from when you were still in college. You explain how you had narrowly avoided getting Chlamydia right before your Christmas break junior year. You act out the conversations you imagined would have happened at all your Christmas events if you had indeed gotten it. Your impressions of your mother, father, and sister have everyone laughing the most. Harry is shaking with laughter from your story and you smile at him in appreciation when he says, “That is the funniest story I’ve heard in a long fucking time.”

The rest of the night goes really well, for the most part. No one bickers or is short with each other. Everyone is laughing and drinks are flowing. Eventually Mitch gets up to go to the bathroom and you feel Harry slide back into the booth closer to you after letting Mitch out. Your hand had taken up residence next to your thigh, resting on the vinyl of the booth. You sense something next to it now and notice Harry’s hand is resting close beside it. He shifts his hand closer when he sees that you’re looking down at it. He’s almost touching you and you look up to his eyes, wondering if he’ll close the distance. He makes an imperceptible shake of his head, but you know what he means. As you’re about to shift your hand so that your pinky connects with his, Mitch returns and your head shoots up to his figure. You instantly remove your hand from the vinyl and shift closer to Charlotte. Harry gets up, but doesn’t sit back down once Mitch is settled. He instead walks off to get another drink, risking one last look at the table where he makes eye contact with you, but he doesn’t come back. Mitch informs everyone that Harry went back to the hotel because “he was tired” after Harry doesn’t return and Mitch gets a text. You roll your eyes, sure that you saw him slip out of the side door with a woman he found at the bar after he had gotten his drink. If that’s what ‘tired’ looked like on Harry, it was fine.

You start to speak to Harry on a more regular basis after that night out. It’s not funny or lighthearted. It’s just ‘I saw this song the other day, thought you might like to listen’. It went back and forth, it wasn’t everyday but it was something. The last text between the two of you before you began sharing songs again was his ‘I’m trying it’s just hard’ text that he had sent randomly one night. Then after one of you would listen, you would see each other at sound check and mention the song and what you thought about it. It can be noted that it was Harry who sent the first song.

For Harryween, Adam couldn’t be there. He has some family emergency the day of and doesn’t come with the rest of you to Madison Square Garden or the hotel you were staying at. Thankfully, Charlotte also plays keys and you can play bass. The band had to shift around some things on stage and make minimal changes to the setlist since you weren’t rehearsed on the covers Harry was doing. You spent the whole day running through the chords of those songs with Mitch, trying to memorize them so you didn’t mess it up during the show.

It was weird because for Harryween the setlist was switched up a little from the regular set for Love On Tour. Harry was playing the entire new album as well as half of the first album, Medicine, some of his other unreleased stuff, and about six covers, including old One Direction songs. It was going to be a long show and a challenge for you.

Before the show, Harry pulls you aside, to a dark corner backstage, and your mind flits back to the last time you had been in this type of position. The last time he had called you ‘love’, the last time you bit his earlobe - which always drove him crazy, the last time he ground his hips against yours, those and more and you had no idea that it was the last. By then you had already had sex with Harry for the last time, kissed his lips for the last time. It made your heart race to be so close to him and so alone once again. But it’s nowhere near the same as it once was. You shake the memories from your mind and look up expectantly at him.

“Have you got this?” He asks seriously, tone concerned. Of course it’s a music question, nothing more. Like it always was now.

“Yeah, of course.” His stare is unwavering and you try not to falter from it.

“I can get someone else to cover tomorrow, it was just such a short notice today. You know bass really well too, it made sense.”

“I’ve got this. Seriously, don’t worry, Harold.” You pat his chest lightly and for once Harry smiles at the sound of your nickname for him. You had stopped using it after the end of your arrangement. It never felt right to use when you were talking about music, and that was about the only time you had been talking. In this moment though, it felt right. His warm, large hands held your upper arms as you stared up into his big eyes. You missed staring into them, the shimmering emerald of his irises were constantly intriguing. You instinctively reach up to move back a curl that has fallen onto his forehead. He doesn’t shy away from your touch and continues to smile down at you.

“Y’haven’t called me that in forever.” He grins, his lips a shiny pink from the lip balm he had on.

“No, I suppose I haven’t. But where was the groan? The whole point is to annoy you.” You smile coyly. He tips his head back and laughs, releasing your arms from his grasp as he laughs wholeheartedly.

Then he does a soft groan, a playful sound, “How was that?”

“Eh. I’ll give you a four out of ten. Not enough emotion behind it.” You slide from the area the two of you have been occupying and make your way onto the stage to start dealing with the bass you would be playing. You hear Harry call out to you, “I think I deserve at least a five, maybe even a six!” You turn back for a second to look at him with an unimpressed expression and shake your head no. He laughs again and you hear him even when you walk out onto the stage. You smile to yourself as you pick up the bass.

When he introduces the band, he waits to talk about you last. “And sadly this evening Mr. Adam Prentergest, our usual fabulous bassist, was unable to attend our fancy dress party! However! Our lovely Y/N L/N is also a superb bassist and was kind enough to step into his place. - Anything to add?” He saunters across the stage to you and you laugh kindly, feeling at ease in this part of the stage even though you were usually on the opposite side and further back from the crowd. You nod at Harry and he leans his portable mic towards your lips. You wet them quickly and eye Harry before turning out to the crowd. “Just please go easy on me if the bass sounds a bit wonky. It wasn’t on the job description that I’d be playing songs I didn’t know, with a few hours notice, on not my main instrument.” You say this in a kind of list format, holding up your fingers as you tick off all the ways that this was out of your comfort zone. You scratch your head dramatically after you’re finished and the whole crowd laughs and cheers. The rest of your bandmates chuckle along and Harry nods and smiles at you.

“You’ll do great, love.” He leans into your ear and says without the microphone. Then he winks and turns to go back to the center of the stage. You press your lips together to contain your smile, both happy and concerned about the flip your stomach just did.

The show is going great. Harry is killing it with the crowd. Everything is electric. You’re entirely focussed on your bass playing, but Harry has been coming over every so often to do something fun or have you tell a joke.

“She’s truly the funniest person I know! And I know a fair amount of people I think.” Harry says as he walks over to you have you tell another joke. Mitch has been looking at you and Harry interacting all night and he’s sure that it isn’t your different position that has him coming over and talking to you so much tonight. Something has definitely changed once again. First the pair of you were always together and having fun, then it was silence and stolen glances that neither of you realized you were taking, now it was back to the beginning.

“That’s because you think puns are part of the top tier levels of comedy.” You say easily, “Here, I can guarantee Harry will love this and the rest of you will likely groan.” Then you stop and act as if you’re thinking for a little, everyone’s waiting expectantly. “Sorry, thinking...Well, I’ve got some skeleton puns I could do, they’re very humerus or y’know classic vampire ones..eh but those ones kind of suck. What do you think, Harry?” You look out at the crowd, face deadpan, as Harry laughs beside you. You roll your eyes playfully and push him back to the center of the stage. Leaning into your own mic now, you say, “I told you.” That’s when everyone laughs. Harry throws another look at you over his shoulder and laughs a little more, his smile wide and eyes bright.

A little over half way through the night, it’s time for ‘to be so lonely’. You already knew the bass chords for it before today and you were confident in yourself by now. It wasn’t as hard a song so you were happy for the little break. This song allowed you to not be looking down at the notes you had stuck to the floor in front of you. Harry’s voice comes in after Mitch’s intro and you watch the way his lips move against his mic. You laugh a little as you watch the crowd yell the first “arrogant son of a bitch” line. You used to not particularly like when people did that, but after it had ended with Harry you had started to enjoy it a bit more. Having those people yell the words you couldn’t, but truly felt about him sometimes, was cathartic. Tonight you weren’t angry with him, but you enjoyed the energy in the room when everyone said it. We’ve all got our own ‘arrogant son of a bitch’ that we want to scream at sometimes. Tonight yours wasn’t Harry for the first time in a long time. The song moves along and Harry takes the microphone off its stand, he walks towards your side of the stage. When the lyrics get to:

“I miss the shape of your lips, your wit, it’s just a trick, this is it so I’m sorry”

Harry isn’t looking at the crowd, he’s looking straight at you. You don’t understand the way he’s looking at you. Or maybe you don’t want to understand it. This song, its lyrics, explains Harry really well. You saw the relationship you had with him in the words. Maybe not precisely, but a part of it was in it. Harry had unknowingly foretold your lives with his words. You know he has trouble connecting and committing, you know his issues, and you accept them. But you knew what had happened between the two of you was far more serious than meaningless sex and you knew Harry couldn’t bring himself to be that serious. He ran off and that was fine, but the face that he couldn’t even apologize hurt you the most. But the song lays it all out for you, he’s not one to be able to apologize quickly. The fact that he looks at you and means the apology he sings in the song for you, it’s a big step, but it’s not enough. The banter, the technical apology, it was all a good start, but it’s just that - the beginning. If Harry wants to make things better with you, a lot more needs to be discussed. So when you sing backing vocals for the following chorus you mean the words for Harry completely.

“Don’t call me baby again, you got your reasons, I know that you’re trying to be friends. I know you mean it, but don’t call me baby again it’s hard for me to go home and be so lonely”

His eyes flick to you again and see your lips moving around the words as you play the bass. He sees the emotion in your face and understands what you’re saying. It’s hard for you to go to your room at night and be alone while he’s out with someone else. It’s hard for him to act like everything’s all fine and perfect, back to normal, because for you it isn’t really. He can’t call you ‘love’ and tell the world you’re funny and expect it to be enough. He can’t sing his sorry that was initially for someone else to you and expect you to accept it. And he knows it, too.

After the show everyone decides they’re exhausted and need to rest before tomorrow. You all planned to celebrate the whole day and you knew it was going to be a wicked Halloween. Knowing this, you’re surprised with the knock on your door after about an hour of being back at the hotel. You’ve given up the habit you had once hoped to cultivate and swing the door open haplessly. Truly having no idea who to expect, you are still surprised to find the man standing before you.

“Mitch.”

“We need to talk.” He stares down at you, his shoulders slumped from tiredness.

“Come in,” you usher him in when you hear the urgency of his voice. He saunters in before you and you close the door. You move to the small couch in the room and sit down. Your hands gesture for him to sit as well, but he shakes his head. He stays standing and brings a hand up to smooth his hair back on the right side. His eyes staying on the floor and flickering up to you every so often.

“What is going on with you and Harry?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on Y/N. You’re seemingly best friends with him for a good portion of tour, then you’re barely on speaking terms for the second half, now you’re joking around again. What is going on?”

You sit there in a stunned silence, “I don’t know what to say.” Your arms go to hug your body, feeling anxious about being confronted about this topic.

“Were you seeing each other?” His voice is soft, eyes taking in your body language and knowing it’s a difficult topic.

“I wouldn’t put it like that…”

He holds back the ‘I knew it’ statement because of how sullen you look, b..ut in his mind all of the pieces he had watched unfold came to fit in a perfect puzzle. He decides to sit beside you when you don’t say anything else.

“We were having sex,” it felt weird to say it out loud, no one but you and Harry had actually known, “But it ended. I don’t know what today was...but it felt different than how it’s been.”

“Why are you so sad if it was just sex?” He places a hand on your shoulder and your tear-filled eyes meet his. “Oh…” He knows why.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” You sob at his apology because he’s not the one who should be at your door apologizing. You sniffle and lean your head into his chest. He takes you into his arms and holds you as your cries become muffled sounds in his shirt.

You cry without words for a few minutes, Mitch coos some soothing words, his voice soft and kind. He was always a good shoulder to cry on for all of your bandmates, he was extremely strong and you made a mental note to thank him thoroughly when you actually were capable of forming coherent thoughts. “I’ve never told anyone before. It feels so weird even saying it out loud,” you say as you pull back from Mitch’s embrace. You're thankful his shirt is black, no tear stains can be made out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently, gauging your reaction. You wipe at your eyes and nod.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to start from the beginning. “Do you remember the party Charlotte had a week before we left for tour?”

Mitch nods and his eyes widen at what you’re saying as he remembers the night. “It started back then?” He’s unable to contain his incredulous question. He had suspected something, but hadn’t thought it had been going on for that long. He was truly astounded. You nod, “Well sort of,” then you go on to recount the last couple of months. All the way up until the Forum shows. “That night, when I opened Harry’s door and it was you standing there...Harry and I didn’t have anything to discuss. It was just…” Mitch nods again. He hadn’t spoken much since you had gotten into the story, wanting to let you be in charge of what you were saying and believing he could probably ask questions at the end. “Then the next night he blew me off for his date with that model and I cried in the elevator because I knew what was going to happen next.”

“So that’s when it ended?” Mitch asks when you don’t speak for a rather extended period of time.

“Yeah, the next morning he came over and I asked if they had sex and he said yes so I told him it was over.”

“But I don’t get why he went out with that model. He had told me she wasn’t his type the night before…” Your eyes shot up and looked at Mitch. His eyes widened when he realized what he said.

“What?”

“When we were talking about Canyon Moon, he mentioned that Jeff had tried to set him up with some woman but he had declined. Said he wasn’t interested. I don’t get what changed between then and the next morning.” He figured it was best to put all the cards out on the table right now. You’d be going your separate ways for a while, now that the tour was over and he had seen how unhappy both you and Harry had been over the last part of the tour.

You shift your leg to have it folded beneath you as you continue to stare at Mitch. “He came over after you and him had your meeting,” you say quietly. Mitch hums, waiting for you to continue this time.

“He apologized for choosing you over me to talk to. Then we slept together, but we didn’t have sex...I think that’s what wigged him. It had felt too real, sleeping in the same bed with me without having sex beforehand made it feel like something more than just two people fulfilling needs.” Mitch nods and sighs heavily. He looks around the room and then back to you, taking in your full appearance. Again he feels terrible for you, how he had felt the second night at the Forum even though he hadn’t known the full story yet. “Now we’re here.”

“Tonight, it felt like he was trying,” Mitch finally said and you smiled sweetly, thinking back to Harry’s behavior. No matter how far from him you were, all those good feelings you associated with him never went away.

“Yeah, it’s been getting better. He texted me once saying he was trying. Then he came out with us one night and it almost seemed like that would be the night he’d apologize, but then he didn’t. Then we started sharing music with each other again. Then tonight… was tonight. It’s just confusing. He’s confusing.”

Mitch smiles sadly and brings you in for another hug and you’re actually so thankful he

showed up at your door. It was your first time telling anyone all of this, because Harry didn’t even know how you felt about some of these things. It felt amazing to be heard and to be told it was okay to be feeling like this.

Pulling back, Mitch says, “He’s definitely different. But his differences are what make him special and that’s why I think he clings to them even if they sometimes can hurt other people. The fact that he’s trying is a good sign. I hope he can find it in himself to make it right between you two because I had never seen either of you happier than when you were apparently together. Especially those few weeks leading up to Los Angeles. Sarah had kept asking me why Harry was so smiley back then. When I had asked him, he had just said “have you ever found something and realized you wanted to keep it with you forever?” I had no idea what he had meant, but I feel like he meant you now.”

Your awestruck at what Mitch has just told you. He was right about the first part about Harry trying to change, but the last bit, that’s what had left you speechless. You turn your body to face the rest of the room and put your chin against your hand as you think.

“Mitch...I have to go.”

He understands what you mean and you walk out of the door with him. He walks down the hall to his room and you walk quickly past the elevator and opt for the stairs. Before you know it you’re running up the stairs, taking two at a time even though you’re not the most athletically inclined. You can’t stand to wait for the elevator and your mind is racing.

You knock on the door that is Harry’s after reaching his floor. It swings open and reveals a confused and sleepy Harry. Thankfully he’s still fully dressed because that would have been a whole other problem you would have if he hadn’t been. You push past him and walk straight into his room without any invitation. He follows behind you, still unsure of why you’ve come here.

“Have you ever found something and realized you want to keep it forever?” You ask him, repeating the words Mitch had just told you.

“Pardon?”

“You told Mitch that about me before we ended things. If that’s how you felt, why didn’t you do what you said?”

Harry sighs as the words register in his mind. The memory of when he had smiled at Mitch so giddily and asked the vague question, his thoughts only of you as he asked it. The shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face after Mitch had looked at him confusedly flitted across his mind. As well as the way he had gone to his dressing room and had a quickie with you after that conversation.

“It’s not that simple…”

“It is, Harry! Why can’t you just be honest with me for once?”

“Okay, fine. You want me to be honest?” you nod at his harsh tone. The two of you standing only a few feet apart. “You have no goddamn idea what you do to me, when I’m around you, I have no control of my emotions or of my thoughts. I pushed you away because I didn’t like feeling out of control. I got out because what had started as a fun time had turned into me longing to be with you every waking hour. I found myself not caring what we did as long as I got to hold you and be around you, but that wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Plans can change, Harry.”

You step closer to him and he meets your eyes. He had left his music playing softly on his phone before he had opened the door so now as the two of you stared at each other, he must have been playing his Etta James playlist because her voice faded out of the song “I’d Rather Go Blind” and straight into “A Sunday Kind of Love”. Harry had shared her At Last album with you over the Christmas holiday of last year and you had decided to listen to her entire discography afterwards, so you knew the songs. The transition was a little too on the nose and you wondered if Spotify ever listened to your conversations.

His emerald eyes examine your face and take inventory of your features, measuring whether anything had changed since he had looked at you this close up. Your hand goes up to cup his cheek and he nuzzles into it, dropping his head closer to you ever so slightly and closing his eyes at the feeling of you.

“I am sorry,” he whispers earnestly as he reopens his eyes.

You can’t take your eyes off of him even if you tried. He looks so soft in the moment, so vulnerable in this light as the music swells in the corner of the room. Etta sings about how she needs a love that is going to last as the pair of you inch yourselves closer together.

“I forgive you, Harry,” you whisper back.

He nudges his head further down and your lips finally press together, slotting back together after months apart. Your lips are eager to press back against their favorite companion. You oblige them, but pull back for a second, just far enough to say, “I will always forgive you, so long as you tell me when you’re scared so we can work through it together.”

He nods, “I promise to never let you go again.” Before taking you back against his lips and gathering your body up in his arms. His lips missing yours just as much.

6K notes · View notes

rodr1cks · 3 years

Text

Heather Hills | 2.5k

part two

neighbor trope where you’re in love with Rodrick but he can’t stop pining after Heather Hills, takes place during Dog Days

warnings: noncon touching (our ass gets grabbed), swearing, smut, heather is a huge bitch

Tonight was the night. You picked out a black silk dress that hugged your body perfectly. You looked... nice? Nicer than usual, at least.

Still, your mood was melancholy, you weren’t too excited to watch Rodrick drool over Heather all night. Despite this, you put on a smile and met Rodrick outside.

His band members, Rowley, and Greg were crowded together in the back. They always left the passenger seat to you, such gentlemen. As soon as you opened the door you were bombarded with wolf whistles and crude remarks from his cronies. “Rodrick if you don’t tap that I will!” The guitarist exclaimed while eyeing you up and down.

“Guys, guys stop, please,” Rodrick seemed a little unnerved by the banter. After that, the van was silent all the way to the party.

Upon arrival, you began to unpack the van, unloading equipment. “Hey, hey, hey, pretty girl like you doesn’t need to do the heavy lifting,” the guitarist said to you as he winked. He always went out of his way to make you uncomfortable. You laughed a bit to appease him, then walked away.

Gross.

The band was set up and Rodrick was clearly nervous.

“You don’t understand, y/n. This has to be perfect.”

You knew the importance of this going well but you couldn’t decide if you wanted it to. On one hand, he could get Heather Hills, the girl of his dreams. On the other hand, he’d be crushed. Poor Rodrick has already taken enough beatings from the girls at your school.

“I know, you’ll be great, though,” you were unsure of that statement.

“You always know what to say.”

He walked away, ready to start the set of a lifetime.

The guitarist approached you again. “Wish me luck sexy,” he whispered and smacked your ass playfully. You gasped, tears threatening to form in your eyes.

Just brush it off, you’re okay. You need to enjoy the show.

You tried not to think about his pathetic little mustache and the giant pimple that sat squarely between his eyebrows.

Why did Rodrick hang out with such scum?

The first notes of the song rang through the tent. Rodrick was… singing? Heather Hills did not look amused. Panicking, Rodrick signaled to Greg, “FULL DIAPER!”

Dear god.

Banners unfurled and cannons sounded. It was a complete disaster. Somehow the chocolate fountain went haywire and coated half the crowd with liquid chocolate, including Heather. Shit. Rodrick was done for.

Everybody pitched in with loading the van and you were out of there in no time. You feared Heather would’ve killed the lot of you if you lingered any longer. Greg and Rowley were the only passengers this time. You and Rodrick were in the front seat, not speaking.

“Rodrick, can I tell you something?”

You knew Greg and Rowley were caught up in their own conversation but you didn’t want to risk them overhearing, so you whispered. Rodrick nodded.

“Your guitarist, h-he uhm, he kind of touched me before your set.” Rodrick’s eyes widened. “Where?” he asked you sternly. “He kind of grabbed my ass.” You looked down, embarrassed. “Great, now Heather hates me and I’m short a guitarist.”

On the way back to Rodrick’s, you passed a gas station and you asked him to pull over.

“Rodrick let me out at this gas station, pretty please!”

He groaned and pulled into the lot. You ran in and made a beeline for the fridges in the back.

Where is it, where is it, ah!

Mint chip and cookie dough, both your favorites. You checked out and ran back to the van. Rodrick looked over, delighted when he saw your purchases. “He ruffled your hair and muttered a thank you. You smiled, “And that’s not all,” you pulled out two candy bars for the chocolate coated fugitives in the back.

Rodrick parked on the street in front of The Heffley household.

“Alright, everybody out!”

Greg and Rowley filed out as did you. Rodrick stayed put. “Aren’t you coming?” He nodded at you, “I have something to take care of first. Put the ice cream in the freezer and take a shower. Get that chocolate off of you.” He gestured at your hair and face which were coated in chocolate.

What could he need to do right now? Probably off to find Heather Hills and beg for her highness’ forgiveness.

You did as he said and borrowed his shower for a bit. You felt instant relief as the warm water trickled down your shoulders, chocolate melting away along with your stress. After your shower, you grabbed one of Rodrick’s t-shirts.

Lending you a shirt was the least he could do, considering the hell he’d put you through.

What a fucking night it’s been.

You sat around for a bit, awaiting Rodrick’s return. You heard the door swing open downstairs. He walked up the stairs to his room, ice cream pints in hand. You smiled at him before your gaze lingered down to his knuckles.

“Holy shit, Rodrick. What the fuck did you do?”

He looked down, “Well you told me what my guitarist did to you and I- I couldn’t help it. He needed to know what he did was out of line.”

Your jaw dropped, “So you what? Broke his nose?” He rolled his eyes at your theatrics, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” Had Rodrick really beat somebody up for you?

“So are we gonna eat this ice cream or what?”

You both sat on Rodricks couch, limbs entangled, eating your ice cream. He looked over at you, “Switch?” You shrugged, passing him your mint chip and grabbing his cookie dough. For the next half hour, you both sat in silence, processing the night’s events.

“Hey, I’m sorry about Heather.”

“Y’know, y/n, I realized something while I was performing. Heather Hills wasn’t by the stage cheering me on, Heather Hills doesn’t go out of her way to be kind to my family, Heather Hills wouldn’t look that good that tiny black bikini of yours,” Rodrick smirked, “and most importantly, Heather Hills didn’t buy me my favorite ice cream to make me feel better. Heather Hills doesn’t care for me like you do.”

You weren’t really processing everything. Was he hitting on you? Or flirting or… He cut your thoughts short by grabbing your waist and pulling you on top of him. “Woah what are you-“ He shushed you and grabbed your ice cream from your hand, setting it on the table.

Rodrick grabbed your hands, halting your mindless fiddling. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how good you are to me earlier, y/n. I know that probably made you feel like dog shit.”

You let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, it did. But, you know now?” He placed one of his large hands on your cheek, using his thumb to stroke your face gently, “Yeah, pretty girl, I do.”

Pretty girl. Your stomach churned and your face turned bright red. Rodrick leaned in slowly and gently kissed you. His lips felt heavenly, they were soft and warm and better than you could’ve imagined. “God I’ve wanted to sink my teeth into you ever since I saw you in that little bathing suit.”

His voice was low and guttural, nothing like you’d heard before. This was a new Rodrick and you had no idea how to react, all you could do was sit there and stutter helplessly.

You could melt. Was this really happening? You had to check.

“Is this really happening?”

You felt him smile. He licked a stripe from your collarbone to your jaw, “You tell me.” You moaned quietly as his grasp on your waist tightened.

“How long have you wanted this, y/n? Wanted me?”

Your stomach clenched at his words, might as well tell the truth. “Since sophomore year. I-I went to one of your gigs and you didn’t see me” His hand moved to your breast and you sucked in a breath. “You looked so good on stage, I knew I wanted your hands all over me,” you managed to gasp out.

“I knew you were there,” he said matter-of-factly. You froze. “I told my mom, part of why she likes you so much, thinks you’re supportive of me or something.”

Is he serious, this is humiliating.

“I remember what you were wearing, too. A little red dress, you stood out. Never knew the neighbor girl cleaned up so nice until that night.”

He must’ve sensed your embarrassment, “Hey, it’s okay, no need to be shy.” You eased up a little bit, your hands finding his hair and gently pulling. “Atta girl.”

As things got more heated, he got more eager. At one point he looked up at you, silently asking for permission to remove your shirt. You nodded, laughing at him, “A gentleman, I see.” He made stern eye contact with you,

“I don’t have to be.”

He tore your (his) shirt over your head and stopped when he found you were wearing nothing underneath.

“Naughty, naughty girl.”

You wanted his shirt off too, along with everything else. You wanted to see him, feel him. You made quick work of removing his t-shirt and discarding it on the floor behind you.

You could feel his hard on through your panties and it was driving you insane. “Rodrick,” you panted, “I need you, please.”

The hand he was using to roll your nipple between his fingers moved to your clit and rubbed gentle circles over it. “Since you asked so nicely,” he grinned.

Your hand flew on top of his and he winced. “Oh shit, right, your hand! I’m so so-,” he flipped you onto your back and stood up from the couch. Your stomach dropped before you understood what he was doing. He fought with his belt for a moment before pulling it off and sliding his jeans and boxers off.

Christ he’s big.

He resumed his position on the couch and began stroking his cock while hovering above you. He leaned down to kiss your collar bone sweetly.

You muttered one last plea before he positioned himself in front of you.

“Are you ready for me, pretty girl?”

God there he goes again.

You arched your back up in response, letting out a small sigh of desperation. This was all so new, you had no idea Rodrick could be so… well spoken?

Rodrick took a deep breath as he bottomed out. The air was knocked out of your lungs. Fucking Christ. He split you in half with ease, groaning as he rolled his hips against you.

“R-Rodrick?” He muttered something indistinct in response. “Is this your first time?” He looked kind of embarrassed. “Yeah, uh, it is, yes.” Part of you was happy it was his first time. The other part of you felt bad for him. You knew that if girls would’ve just given him a chance, they’d see how incredible he was-

You were torn from your thoughts by Rodrick pulling out and slamming back into your willing body. You nearly screamed. He continued at an absolutely brutal pace.

“Jesus christ, Rodrick, never knew you could do this,” you gasped out, eyes rolling back.

He smirked down at you before pulling out, grabbing your hips, and flipping you over onto your hands and knees. Your head was pressed sideways against the arm of the couch but you didn’t care. Rodrick quickly got back to work, fucking you to the beginnings of your orgasm.

“Rodrick, I’m gonna-“ He grabbed your hair and yanked hard so your back was against his chest,

“Cum on my cock.”

That was all it took, you were gone, shaking and pulsing around him.

After a few more strokes, Rodrick was gone, too. He was grabbing your ass and grinding his hips against you as he finished.

Gently, he pulled out. He rubbed a hand over your ass and admired your raw, red skin.

You rolled back over, panting. “My god, y/n, how did I live without this for so long?” You smiled lazily at the ceiling. He kissed you, clearly spent. You both sat on his couch, heavy panting filling the room.

Rodrick looked over at you, “Ice cream?” He stuck the cup filled with melted sludge in your direction. You put your hand up in protest, “No thank you.” He shrugged, “More for me.” Roderick slurped the melted treat from his spoon. You couldn’t help but laugh at him.

God, Heather would despise this man.

“You know Heather slapped Rowley, right?”

“What? no way?” Rodrick laughed.

“She sure did. Don’t worry though, Rowley got to eat chocolate off of Madison.”

You both spent a moment laughing to yourselves.

You were absolutely satisfied, you could’ve fallen asleep right then and there, on Rodrick’s ratty couch.

“Let’s get you to bed y/n.”

“But I don’t wanna go home, Rodrick!” You whined.

“Who said anything about you going home?”

“Y/n, Mom’s at a writing seminar with Manny and Dad’s at some civil war retreat thing.”

Was he inviting you to stay the night? “Call your mom, tell her you’re with your friend… uh… Heather.”

Giggling, you did just that. “Wait a minute, your parents left you alone with Greg?” He swatted at you playfully, giving you a goofy glare.

Rodrick stood up and offered out his hand. You decided to be cocky and deny his help. In your attempt to stand up, you stumbled, nearly eating shit.

“Woah, woah, easy there tiger,” Rodrick said snarkily, grabbing your waist before you hit the ground. You hadn’t expected to be so unstable.

“Alright, do you want my shirt back, gorgeous?” You nodded sleepily.

He grabbed the previously discarded shirt from the ground and slipped it over your head. He then pushed your hair out of your face and placed a gentle kiss onto your forehead.

Rodrick led you over to his bed. It was a twin but you guys would make it work.

He disappeared for a moment and came back with a rag. “C’mere sweetheart. You turned to face him slowly as he sat down on the bed. He began tenderly wiping between your thighs.

“Look at you, so beautiful,” he mused. Out of instinct, you looked away from him. “I mean it, y/n.”

He climbed into bed with you, his lanky limbs making comfort difficult.

“There we go,” he sighed after you both finally found a comfortable position. You closed your eyes and Rodrick began tracing lines over your lightly clothed back. You could hear the summer rain pattering against his window and you sighed out, completely satisfied.

Nearly asleep, you noticed something in the corner of Rodrick’s room. His black and white one star’s with tire marks plastered over them. You rolled your eyes and laughed to yourself.

Heather fucking Hills.

+ literally don’t even speak to me about the grammar or the poorly written smut. act like you do not see it ty. and please send me rq’s!!

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick smut #rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid #smut #rodrick fanfiction

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luvnami · 3 years

Text

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - wahh it’s here! can’t believe my brainrot of osamu teaching a cooking class turned into this long fic lol... i hope you enjoy it!! it was fun crafting the story with my beta readers and i put a lot of effort into it!!! itadakimasu <3

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @forgetou @amjustagirl (muacks 2x) + tq to everyone who helped me with the banner!!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - you’re suna’s younger sibling, food, heartbreak, angst but happy ending, mentions of stabbing (joke), kita dances to ‘ice cream’ by selena gomez and blackpink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood (brief), suna beats (redacted) up

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - miya osamu x gn!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - you fall in love with miya osamu once more, but you’re afraid of getting hurt again.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5535

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

1. Cook the rice according to your rice cooker, then transfer the cooked rice to a separate bowl to cool it down.

“What ya want t’do is scorch the soy sauce.”

The class presses themselves against Osamu’s workbench as they scribble down notes on their recipe printouts. Their lips purse to ooh and aah at his cooking skills, though you’re pretty sure that they’re more interested in how his biceps flex when he flips the wok with a trained flick of the wrist.

You stand at the very edge of the group. It’s better than getting close with a group of hungry housewives, really. If grocery store and department mall sales have ever told you anything, it’s to never get in the way of what a seasoned housewife wants. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t learnt the way of being a homemaker just yet.

You’re unemployed, right in the middle of a month and a half-ish long transfer between jobs. You currently stay at your brother Suna’s place — which is really just an apartment filled with dirty laundry overflowing from its seams.

Turns out Suna himself is a bit of a gossip. He told Kita who told Atsumu who told Osamu that you’re stuck at his place 24/7 with no friends or entertainment in the lovely city of Nagano. It’s just mountains and trees as far as the eye can see all around — and there’s only so many hikes you can take each week.

“Why don’t you take a cookin’ class?”

“Cookin’?” Your face screwed up in confusion. “ What for?”

“So that you can actually pull your weight around the house and make me something to eat.”

You chucked a pillow at his head and began to list all the things you did while staying at his apartment. Laundry, cleaning the floor, doing grocery shopping (even if it was only instant noodles and snacks), finding his disgustingly sweaty socks under the sofa and many other important chores, thank you very much.

Besides, you weren’t as eager when you saw who was the one that would be holding the classes. With his picture plastered across the front of a pamphlet, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Years of chasing his dreams and training in a kitchen had done Osamu wonders.

You had half a mind to smack Suna in the head with the yellow, glossy paper, but instead you quietly tucked it into a corner of the guest room to look at later. You were sure Suna hadn’t forgotten your history with Osamu just yet — but perhaps he assumed that enough time had passed to heal your wounds.

Either way, there’s no going back now. That’s how you ended up at Osamu’s ‘Cooking class for homemakers — you can do it too!’, except you aren’t a homemaker. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as the sound of sizzling soy sauce fills the air. Osamu pauses for a while before beginning to mix the rice with the sauce, wielding his spatula and wok expertly like weapons.

“Miya-san, you’re amazing!” someone gushes.

He lets out a bashful laugh. “This is nothing. I’m sure everyone will be able to do this by the end of class today!”

You wonder if he’s ever considered being a teacher. The demonstration on how to make shrimp fried rice is soon over and everyone returns to their benches, eager to try out the recipe. You are no different. Scurrying to your bench at the very back of the classroom, you exchange glances between the printed recipe handout and your tray of ingredients.

“Need any help?”

Osamu’s voice and looming presence makes you jump.

“Woah! Careful there,” he chuckles, his fingers gently prying a knife out of your hands.

Unconsciously, you had raised it in shock when Osamu snuck up on you. The knife now lays safely on the tabletop and you feel the eyes of the entire class boring into you.

“Sorry, Miya-san. I didn’t see you,” you apologise meekly.

“Don’t worry about it, I shouldn't have scared ya like that. And no need for the formalities! You’re my friend’s sister, afta’ all.”

Oh goodness. You half expect the class to pick up their pots and pans and run at you right this moment. You swallow back the half hearted ‘Osamu-san’ that rises in your throat. Your heart trembles in your chest and for a second, the silence that weighs heavily between the both of you turns awkward.

“Miya-san! Could you help me with this please?”

You’ve never been so glad to hear Tachibana’s sickly shrill voice before. Osamu is quick to wave goodbye to you before hurrying over to her bench, a smile still on his face. You breathe a sigh of relief.

You make a mental note to tell Suna that Osamu should just stick to placating those housewives and leave you the hell alone. The last thing you want is to have blackmail spread around the neighbourhood by these gossipy housewives, or worse, have their daughters hunt you down and chop you up into pieces.

Whatever. You’re just here to learn how to make shrimp fried rice and then go home to your annoying older brother. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be here for long. Miya Osamu just happens to be the local heartthrob, the handsome and eligible bachelor chased by anyone single and ready to mingle. You have absolutely nothing to do with someone so popular and good-looking. And for goodness sake, he’s your brother’s high school friend and your… Well, you know.

Your face burns and you pick up the knife again, grip tightening on its handle. You begin chopping at the onions with renewed determination.

(Later on, when you bring back a tupperware of fried rice for Suna, he looks you in the eye and asks “Shrimp fried this rice?”.

You shoot him a glare.

“I fried this rice.”)

2. Prepare all the fillings that you are going to use and set aside, such as pickled plums or tuna mayo. Prepare your seaweed sheets.

What you don’t expect is for Miya Osamu to show up at your doorstep the next day with boxes of food, cartons of drinks and a very noisy brother of his in tow.

“Rin, where can I leave the drinks?” Osamu yells.

“Rin, can I play your PS5?” Atsumu shouts.

You think that they are very different, the Miya twins. Suna takes a minute to finish putting on some clothes (you had answered the door, thankfully. No one wants to see Suna Rintarou in Pikachu boxers) before bursting out of his room.

He’s quick to smack Atsumu’s ‘dirty little setter hands’ away from his precious Playstation, directing Osamu to what constitutes the apartment’s kitchen — a second-hand fridge and the building-installed gas stove that works only if you hit it hard enough. You’re surprised that neither you or Suna haven't died of a house fire or gas poisoning by now.

It doesn’t take long for the other Inarizaki alumni to arrive at Suna’s apartment in a series of doorbell rings. Kita even brings along a large bottle of sake, to which everyone cheers loudly. You don’t understand why they had chosen Suna’s place to have a reunion party. Seriously, wouldn't Onigiri Miya or some other izakaya have been a better choice?

However, there’s free flow of drinks and lots of yummy snacks, so you decide to let the noise wash over you and stand by the food table to pick at the trays of pizza, fried chicken and other finger food. Aran even offers you a drink, smiling sweetly before going off to wrangle Atsumu from trying to initiate a beer chugging competition. Some things just never change, you suppose.

“Having fun?”

You jump and nearly drop the plate of food that you hold.

“You have a horrible habit of scaring people, Miya- Osamu.”

His first name comes out awkward, tumbling off of your tongue as you use a pair of chopsticks to carefully pile back some mentaiko mayonnaise onto a slice of tamagoyaki. Osamu settles into the crook of the kitchen counter next to you with a playful grin on his face.

“Do I really?”

“Don’t forget that the first time you did that, someone nearly got stabbed.”

You pop the tamagoyaki into your mouth. It’s delicious — the egg’s sweetness balances out the salty sauce. You wonder if there’s enough left on the tray for seconds.

“How’s the reunion going?” you ask nonchalantly, and shuffle a few centimetres away from him.

You hope Osamu doesn’t notice that. He does, however, but chooses not to comment on it. He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He’s close enough for you to get a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing. Your head spins for a second.

“Oh, none of us have gotten drunk just yet. I’m pretty sure we’ll be playing beer pong or something later on.”

You steel yourself against the urge to look at what Osamu is wearing. Don’t look, don’t look, definitely don’t look. Miya Osamu is, has been, a dangerous man to fall in love with. You can’t afford to-

Perhaps gouging your eyes out would have been a better choice in theory. Even a glance from where you stand beside him is enough to see that not only is he wearing a tight, black T-shirt, Osamu also has a pair of sweatpants on. Is it a sin to wear sweatpants? Probably so, especially with the way it makes your throat run dry.

“Beer pong, huh?” You try your best to mumble somewhat nonchalantly. “Who won the last time?”

“Kita.”

“Kita?!” you gasp.

Even that’s enough to make you forget about Osamu and his stupid (and very sexy) sweatpants.

“Yeah, right? That was the first time he participated. All of us got left drunk in the street, so we decided to do it at someone’s place this year.”

You let out a soft laugh at the thought of a bunch of grown men piled over each other on the road. You don’t particularly like the thought of cleaning up after them tonight, though.

The lack of words between you and Osamu descends into snorts of laughter that trickle in from the tiny living room. Aran throws his head back, drink nearly spilling out of his cup. Ginjima laughs so loud you see Omiomi cover his ears and Suna holds his phone up, filming every second of Atsumu’s defeat.

Osamu opens his mouth as if to ask you something.

“C’mon! Yer killin’ me, Kita-san!” Atsumu yells, socked feet and waving arms trying to match the onscreen character’s movements.

Kita, on the other hand, is scoring perfect marks without as much effort wasted. You giggle to yourself as he moves his hips, shaking them here and there. A small smile quirks his lips upwards as he finishes with a flawless ending move on ‘Ice Cream’, the Just Dance characters fading into oblivion on the screen. Atsumu crumbles to the floor in defeat.

Osamu’s lips form a straight line as he watches you laugh along, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He curses Atsumu’s birth and swallows back his embarrassment.

“Did ya see that, Osamu? Oh- Kita-san is so good at everything!” you gush.

“Atsumu just sucks.”

When you laugh, Osamu thinks something in his chest lurches. Regret makes his head go foggy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

3. Place cling wrap over a rice bowl. Place some of the cooked rice over the centre of the cling wrap and make a well.

“No way ya got a love letter!” Atsumu yelled.

“Ya get yer fair share. We share t’same face, why shouldn’t I get some?” Osamu retorted, rolling his eyes.

Suna watched as the twins began to gripe and argue about who was the better looking sibling again. Nothing unusual, really, given how this occurred every odd day of the week.

“S’gotta be a prank. No way someone likes a loser like you,” Suna mused.

In retaliation, Osamu threw him a stink eye. “You two are just jealous,” he sniffed.

The letter had been written on pretty pink paper, all hearts and cute handwriting as his secret admirer asked him to meet them on the roof after school. Not that Osamu wasn’t affected by it, of course. It always rubbed his ego the right way to know that someone preferred him over Atsumu. Though, it wasn’t like he was interested in anyone then. It only took a second before Osamu ripped the letter in half.

“Woah woah woah! Yer crazy! Whatcha gonna do if some pretty girl gave that to ya?”

Atsumu’s eyes widened in shock, almost reaching forward to grab the shreds of letter that Osamu had torn up.

“Does it matter? S’not like I’m interested in datin’ right now,” he replied.

“Seriously? What if she’s like, super duper hot!”

Osamu’s face screwed up. “Are ya a horndog?”

Just as Atsumu was about to shout at his dear brother again, you opened the door to their classroom and hurried in. You had a bento box in hand and a cute pout on your face as you placed it on Suna’s table.

“Rin! You forgot your bento at home again!”

“Oh.” Suna blinked. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, you gotta stop forgetting your things! I can’t be bringing them to you all the time-”

“Hey, Suna.” Atsumu perked up, referring to you. “Would ya go on a date with Samu or me? Me, right? Definitely me!”

Your face flushed with heat. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“‘Samu got a love letter in his shoe locker this morning. Cliche, huh?” your brother said between bites of his lunch.

“Mm, yeah. Cliche,” you mumbled.

You looked around anxiously for any sign of the love letter. Was it in Osamu’s bag?

“Can ya believe he tore it up?” Atsumu laughed.

“What?”

Your heart felt like a stone in your chest as you froze, your blood running cold.

“Yeah! This dumbass doesn’t know how t’appreciate anythin’,” he replied, smacking Osamu on the back of his head.

His twin responded with a muffled growl as he continued to scarf down his absurdly large bento. You fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves, staring down at your feet. You were quick to bid the third years goodbye as you fled their classroom as an inexplicable ache spread through your chest.

You didn’t focus on your classes for the rest of the day. The fact that Osamu had torn your love letter, written with all your heart and soul as you crumpled draft after draft last night, tipped you over the edge of your fantasies and had you plummeting straight into reality.

“Oi.”

You looked up from your feet, glancing up at Suna. The both of you were swapping your indoor shoes for outdoor ones, but you had absentmindedly stopped in the middle of slipping your right foot into a shoe. It was nearing the time where they closed the school gates, so there weren’t many students around save for the odd volleyball club member.

“What’re you doing? Put your shoes on properly,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, and slammed the locker door shut once you were done.

You walked a few feet ahead of Suna as you approached the school gate. Your head drooped with each step, tears beginning to mist your eyes. You willed yourself to hold it in till you got home, till you were in the safety of your bedroom to start sobbing your little heart out. Suna tugged on your wrist.

“Are you crying?” he questioned.

You shook your head quickly, rubbing your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“Oi. Answer me.”

This time, his voice was a little softer, yet held a mixture of irritation and anger behind a crumbling wall of apathy. Who had been the one to make you cry?

“It’s nothin’,” you choked out. “Let’s just go home.”

You turned your face to the side as tears continued to roll down your cheeks, muffled cries turning into heartbroken sobs. Something inside of Suna’s head clicked.

“It’s Miya Osamu, isn’t it?”

You had to bite on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.

“That bastard tore up your letter, didn’t he?”

You gave Suna the tiniest of nods. He let go of your wrist and whipped around, eyebrows furrowed together. Not wanting to date was one thing, but treating your confession like dog shit was something else. Fortunately for him, the Miya twins were changing their shoes in the getabako.

“‘Samu!” Suna yelled.

The gray haired male looked up with a face of confusion.

“Suna? Whaddya want-” Osamu wasn’t able to say anything more as Suna’s fist collided with his face.

Atsumu jumped back with a yelp as the both of them crashed to the ground. Your hands flew to cover your mouth.

“Rin! Stop it!” you cried out.

You dashed over, tripping over your own feet as you tried to pull Suna away from Osamu as they traded blows. It took the work of you, Atsumu and Ginjima (who had been unlucky enough to pass by) to tear the two apart, and even then Osamu was still struggling in his brother’s arms to be let go.

“What t’hell, man!” he snarled.

Suna wiped his nose, glancing briefly at the crimson that stained his school uniform. The adrenaline was beginning to run low and pain began to settle into his fists and ribs. His shoulders heaved with each breath, and your hands clutched his shirt.

“Rin. No more, please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his back. “No more.”

Suna hated the way your voice trembled as you spoke. He didn’t think it was fair for you to bear the burden of pain while Osamu got to walk away unscathed, leaving you broken in pieces. His fist curled up again.

“It’s not worth it, Rin.”

Suna took in a shaky, deep breath.

You were right.

Miya Osamu wasn’t worth it.

4. Put about 1tbsp of the filling of your choice on the centre of the rice and cover it with rice.

A week comes and goes after the annual Inarizaki reunion. You’re still finding sticky stains on the floor, as well as food wrappers tossed behind the sofa. Suna sends the group chat a video of you yelling at all of them while wielding a mop with so much fervour Aran asks if you broke it. Atsumu actually apologises and Osamu offers to come over and help clean up. The entire group chat flames him immediately.

As per last week, you walk into Osamu’s cooking class at 2p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s hot outside, droplets of perspiration rolling down your nape. The cool air-conditioning of the classroom is much appreciated and you don your apron behind the gaggle of housewives. You catch snippets of their conversation as they put their items in the cubbies provided.

“Tanaka-san, did you see the mushrooms that were on sale this Monday?”

“My son is attending this cram school this summer. Here’s the address!”

“My father-in-law keeps complaining about the heat…”

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Miya-san!”

Everyone perks up when Osamu walks through the door. They’re quick to surround him, asking how his day had been. You look tired, take this ginseng drink! It really revitalises your spirits! Did you get a girlfriend yet, Miya-san? My daughter is single, you know!

You watch as Osamu walks behind his bench, all smiles and “Is that so, Shigeru-san?”. Polite enough to please them, but not enough to make them think that he actually wants to go on a date with their 34 year-old daughter who’s a tired office worker looking out for potential husbands like a hawk. He lets out a heavy exhale, using his cap with the Onigiri Miya logo on it to fan himself.

“Hot today, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

You think that maybe he’s the one that’s making this summer so warm, especially with the way that his shirt clings to his figure and his flushed cheeks that make him look adorable.

Wait.

You do a double take. Ah, adorable. You must have meant that heart-print apron that Tanaka is wearing today. It is pretty cute, and you wonder if you should ask her where she got it from later on. Definitely not Osamu with his perfect smile that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and definitely not when it’s directed at you.

“Gather around everyone! We’re going to be making gyoza today!”

The demonstration goes as usual — Osamu impresses the housewives, they gasp and someone even touches his forearm and asks “How did you get so strong, Miya-san?”. Not that you care, of course. You certainly don’t. What you’re more concerned about is how Osamu manages to make wrapping the fragile gyoza seem so easy.

Your fingers pinch at the thick dough, eyebrows furrowed together. No matter what you do, your filling keeps spilling out of the wrapper and so you’ve opted to try out for a thicker piece this time. Not that it really matters — Suna will be the one suffering from food poisoning if it turns out bad, anyways.

“Ah, yer made it too thick,” Osamu says as he strolls over.

You tense up as he leans over your shoulder, peeking at the chubby gyoza in your hands. You pretend not be affected by how close he is and continue pinching the wings of the dumpling shut.

“They keep bursting,” you sniff.

“Maybe ya put t’much filling?” Osamu suggests. “Here, lemme show ya. Put tha’ one down and grab a new wrapper. Yeah, just like that.”

You stiffen as Osamu flours his hands and cradles your hands in his.

“Here ya go. That’s t’much, scoop out some more. That’s it. Now gently…”

Blood rushes to your face as you feel the warmth of his skin seep into yours, his hands rough from years of training and cooking. Scars adorn the tips of his thick fingers and knuckles. You suddenly feel the urge to gently trace them with your thumb, to ask him how he got each one of them.

Would he let you? Let you so close, that perhaps you would be the one to know every single thing about him?

“You did it!” Osamu says cheerfully.

He suddenly pulls away, making you plummet back to reality. A perfectly made gyoza sits in your hands.

“I’m looking forward to tasting your gyoza later on. Now keep trying!”

You’re left dumbfounded as Osamu walks away to help out the other housewives. They stammer and blush when they get too close, but he never holds their hands in his own, never smiles as gently as he does with you.

You place the gyoza on a pan and put the lid on with a little bit more force than what is necessary.

5. Wrap the cling wrap over the rice and squeeze and mould it into a triangle shape with your hands.

You try not to make contact with Osamu after that. Attending his cooking classes becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, where you try to tell him ‘I don’t need any help, Miya-san’ and watch him crawl away in defeat. In fact, you decide to skip the lesson on making hamburgs and instead spend the afternoon watching television.

After all, from what you’ve learnt in the past, Osamu is nothing more than trouble. You think it’s worth the sacrifice now to put some space between the both of you so that you don’t end up heartbroken a second time.

Though, you do feel a little bad. Just a little bit. One day when Suna’s out at training, you hear the doorbell ring and Osamu’s voice ring through the genkan. You hear his feet shuffle by the door and a heavy thump outside before he leaves. You only open the door when you hear his car pull out of the apartment building’s carpark, and find a packed bento lunch for you in front.

You try to pretend that the bunny cut apples and sakura shaped carrot slices don’t mean anything.

“Ah, Suna-san! Where were you last week?” Tachibana titters as you step into class for the final lesson.

“I wasn’t feeling very well,” you lie. “I think I caught a summer cold.”

“Oh dear, that sounds terrible!” the ladies chorus together.

You think they’re probably just glad that you didn’t get in the way of their beloved Miya-san. You tug your apron over your head, and ignore Osamu when he greets everyone. His eyes linger on you for a little too long during the demonstration — to the point that he actually burns the skin side of his salmon fillet.

Osamu skirts around your bench like a nervous puppy when the demonstration is over. You don’t seem particularly keen about talking to him, though the tips of your finger tremble when he finally plucks up the courage to stand next to you. It’s not close enough for your elbows to touch, but close enough that he can whisper to you without anyone else hearing him.

“Hey,” he begins, uncertain. His voice wavers slightly.

“Hey,” you reply, wary of what he might say.

“Are you okay?”

You take a moment to think, tipping the sake bottle carefully to measure out an exact tablespoon of it. He wonders when your hands have seemed so delicate, so small. He aches to hold them in his own again.

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good.”

It’s quiet, again. Just like that night in Suna’s apartment, with all the noise of the reunion going on around you, except this time it's the clanging of pans and utensils, paired with the chatter of many ladies.

“I was thinking…” Osamu stares down at your hands, turning the measuring spoon over so that sake splashes onto the hot pan with a sizzle. “Maybe we could get a drink together after this?”

You cover the pan and watch its surface cloud up with condensation. You hide your shaking hands by digging them into the pockets of your apron.

Osamu swallows. Perhaps he had been too direct with you; scared you off with how quickly he was advancing. Or did Suna tell you to be careful of him? That he didn’t want you falling in love with him a second time? There’s no lie about it, that Osamu had been a grade A asshole back in high school.

But he loves you now; has loved you since then. Would you be willing to give him a second chance?

“Osamu,” you breathe.

His shoulders relax slightly when you don’t call him by his last name.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Your voice comes out timid, scared. Osamu’s heart crumbles at the edges. He wonders if you would hate him if he reached out and took your hands in his once more. You’re both adults, perfectly capable of rational thinking if only your hearts hadn’t gotten in the way. Love hurts, they said. You want to agree.

“We can start it out slow,” Osamu suggests.

“I’m supposed to start my new job next month. I won't be in Nagano for much longer.”

“I’m opening a branch in Tokyo.”

“I’ll be busy settling down. We might not get to see each other often enough.”

“A little is better than nothin’.”

“You’re my brother’s friend.”

“Now, yer just picking at nothing, babe. Didn’t you have a crush on me back in high school, too? That didn’t stop ya, did it?”

Your heart wrestles with your brain, insisting on comfort and that love will always come in the form of someone that isn’t Miya Osamu. You’ll find someone, but will they be better? Will they send food to your doorstep, or send you stupid photos of dogs he saw on the street? Will they chase after you relentlessly for years, will they be Osamu?

A lump forms in your throat and you wonder if this, has been, is love. You tear your heart out from within you and let it cling to your sleeve, as pathetic and scared it is. You don’t mind if it hurts. To never hurt is to never have lived, to never have loved.

By this point, your eyes have misted up with tears and it hits you- You’re about to cry about your crush in the middle of a cooking class attended by middle-aged ladies. You’ve never been more embarrassed.

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at Osamu with glittering eyes.

He ignores the “Miya-san! I need your help!” that rings out in the background. He smiles gently.

“Yeah, really.”

A tear slips down your face. Osamu lets out a breathy chuckle as he swipes it away with his thumb, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“We’ll talk properly after this, alright?”

You nod numbly. You watch as he hurries off to Shigeru, gasping when he sees how she had completely butchered her fillet. He turns back to you, trying to hold in a snigger.

You giggle.

Osamu thinks he wants to hear that laugh forever.

6. Remove the cling wrap and cover the bottom of the rice triangle with a nori sheet and set aside.

“One extra large bonito onigiri with spring onions!” you cry out from the counter.

Back in the kitchen, Osamu and another part-time worker scoop steaming rice out of large vats and use their hands to mould them into perfectly shaped triangles. A scoop of filling goes in and a strip of seaweed is wrapped hastily around the onigiri before it's sent to you to package. You place the onigiri carefully into a box and slip it into a paper bag with the shop’s logo on the front for a take-away order.

The shop is filled with customers even on a Wednesday afternoon. The clock shows 2p.m., past lunch time, yet you can see a queue that snakes out of the shop and down the alleyway.

Another long day ahead, you think to yourself.

“It’s our turn!” a little girl squeals as she takes the bag from you, opening it up to peer at the huge onigiri inside. “Mama! ‘giri!”

Her mother laughs and pats her head. “Don’t forget to say thank you, Haru.”

The girl turns to you, eyes sparkling. “‘Fank you, Miya-shan!”

A cheery grin almost splits your face in half. Miya-san. Four years on and it still makes your stomach flip whenever you hear that Osamu’s last name has become yours. It was an easy decision for the both of you to get married, really. You had loved each other for years and all you wanted to do in the end was to spend the rest of your lives together.

You quit your office job just before you got married to help Osamu out with the new Onigiri Miya branches. It took some getting used to, but the familiar customers and bright smiles that you see just by serving onigiri each day makes it worth it. It’s tough work, no doubt. But doing what you enjoy with the man you love is more rewarding than it ever could be.

Though, it’s not like your relationship has always been smooth sailing. There are days when you bicker over something stupid (like how you always forget to close the lid of the rice cooker), or when Osamu insists that he isn’t overworking himself (although his eyebags tell otherwise). But love’s a recipe with a few secret ingredients, and you’ve come to master it over the years.

“Come back soon!”

The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of freshly cooked rice and bonito flakes being stir-fried into furikake. Customers perch on tiny stools as they scarf down onigiri of different shapes and sizes, licking their fingers clean. A plush toy of Onigiri Miya’s mascot sits on the counter next to a potted plant that Atsumu bought (which is surprisingly still alive).

A photograph of the third Tokyo branch’s grand opening hangs on the wall. You and Osamu hold up a bouquet of flowers, smiling toothily at the camera, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight.

“One medium onigiri with tuna mayo, coming right up!”

You jump as Osamu shouts out the order suddenly and you nearly drop the onigiri that he hands to you.

“Woah, careful there,” he chuckles, a hand ghosting the small of your back.

“You have ‘ta stop scaring me, ‘Samu,” you huff and roll your eyes playfully.

Osamu grins at you and the edges of his eyes crinkle up. You place the onigiri safely into its packaging and place it on the counter for a customer to collect, before turning back to plant a kiss on his cheek. Osamu’s face flushes pink and he hurries away, mumbling something about bonito flakes.

Your heart soars in your chest.

Yeah, it has been, will be, worth it.

7. Repeat the same steps as above to use the rest of the rice with other fillings that you prepared.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu angst #miya osamu fic #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #osamu angst #osamu fic #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq angst #hq fic #hq osamu

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years

Text

in which you’re harry’s assistant and harry needs to open his eyes.

a/n: ASSISANT!YN has finally arrived! this took me three weeks and a half to write, so please enjoy and kindly rb with feedback! i’ve had this concept in mind for SO long, and i’m proud of it! this is also inspired by my love for the barcelona pic, pictured on the left, that I think about on the daily along with some thoughts in a dressing room! also picture on the right at the final show is an aspect in the story as well!

also big thank you to my bestie @stylesloveclub for screaming and hyping this up for me while I rave about it, ily!

enjoy a long slowburn of 26.3k words of a friends to lovers fic that’s filled with angst and some smut! genuinely be ready for the angst hehe

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALKING ABOUT WANT YOU HERE! i’d love to know your thoughts and feedback!

pls rb to share! <3

16 December 2017

The smell of fresh flowers brought allergies to your senses as you shuffled and continuously rubbed your nose with a tissue.

You were at the flower shop with two bouquets in your hands as you debated which bundle to get. You were given specific instructions to find a bouquet that’s full and big with the color white being the dominant color of the bouquet, and your options were a white orchid bunch, which weren’t your personal favorite, but it was one of the white bouquets, and your other option was a white lilac bouquet with a couple of white roses and baby’s breath around the large lilacs.

“Do you need help choosing a bouquet?” The lady that was named Vicky asked. She had an expression of curiosity as she was probably wondering if you were going to buy anything since you’ve been standing in the corner for quite some time as you tried choosing which bouquet to get.

“Oh, no. Thank you,” you replied back with a smile, and she nodded her head, walking away to help another customer, but you knew she was going to be back to ask you again in the next ten minutes if you don’t make your mind up right now.

After another three minutes of deciding, you opted for the white lilac bouquet, and headed to the cashier. You gave the employee your number for rewards since you were at the flower shop quite a lot that you’ve managed to rack up some points in order to get a free bouquet. Once you paid and were on your way, your phone rang in your purse. Struggling to reach for it as you were holding the big bouquet and a few shopping bags, you moved to the side to set your paper bags down on the ground, and quickly grabbed your phone so it won’t go to voicemail.

“Hey,” you answered cheerfully, knowing exactly who it was.

“Hi there. Where are you?” The voice from the other end asked.

“I just left the flower shop—should be there soon.”

“Okay, perfect. Thank you for everything.”

“Harry, you don’t need to thank me every single time,” you chuckled. “I’m your assistant. It’s my job.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…I’m grateful for what you do,” he said thankfully.

“I know, and I’m grateful for having this job and working for you. So, thank you also.”

“Look who’s saying thank you now,” he joked, and you laughed. “But I’ll see you soon. Walk back safely, please,” he said, bidding you goodbye.

“Always do. See you,” you hung up the phone, picking up the shopping bags, and walking towards Harry’s place.

You’ve been Harry’s assistant for quite some time now; exactly two years. You started working for him when you were both twenty one, and he had just gone separate ways from the band. Harry was in the midst of writing his very first album and planning his first world tour as a solo artist in smaller theatre venues, and desperately needed an assistant to do some basic errands and remind him of his scheduling. Luckily as Glenne’s friend, you were in need of a job. You were fresh out of college as you had your bachelor’s in public relations, and being friends with someone who’s boyfriend is in the industry has its perks.

Glenne had immediately recommended you once Jeff mentioned that Harry was looking for an assistant, and since Jeff had met you a handful of times, he told Glenne to call you in for an interview, but somewhat knowing that he was going to hire you already since Harry desperately needed one and you were a friend.

When you walked into the interview, you were greeted by Jeff and Harry. That was your first time meeting Harry, and you were quite shocked that he was a real person. Of course you were a fan of him, and you were still surprised whenever Glenne talked about him, but when you saw him for the first time, you immediately thought that he was more gorgeous in reality.

“So nice to meet you,” Harry said, shaking your ring filled hand. The coolness of his metal rings met your shaky hands, and sparks had immediately shocked your body.

“Great to meet you too. I love your shirt,” you complimented. He was wearing a bright blue button down shirt with a cherry blossom print on it with a white t-shirt underneath along with some black skinny jeans and brown boots.

“Thank you. Your trousers are very nice,” he said back, looking down at your pants. You were wearing burnt orange corduroy pants with a white semi turtleneck blouse with a pussybow tie on it, along with some black booties. “Actually, I love your whole outfit,” he added, and you chuckled, trying to hide your blush.

Never in a million years would you have thought you would meet Harry, let alone Harry complimenting your entire outfit. You’re really living the dream.

The interview went extremely well and only lasted about thirty minutes. The first ten minutes were some generic interview questions because they still had to keep it professional, but the last twenty minutes consisted of asking about your interests and simply getting to know you because you would spend most of your time with Harry.

At the end of the interview, it was quite obvious Jeff and Harry knew they wanted to hire you. They loved your personality and how you made jokes, especially how you laughed at Harry’s jokes, which he thought was a very important aspect of being his assistant.

Jeff exited the room, telling you he would be right back, but really he went into his office to grab some paperwork for you to sign. That left you and Harry in the conference room alone as you made conversation with him about university. You also told him that you were a fan of his, which you thought was a mistake to tell him because you’re sure he doesn’t want a crazy fan to be his assistant and practically have access to his personal life, but he said gratefully said thank you, and asking if you had a favorite song off new released album. Your favorites off his album were ‘Only Angel’ and ‘From the Dining Table.’

“Good picks,” he teased.

“I would hope they’re good picks. It is your album,” you teased back, making him laugh, and he thought that it was a great choice making you his assistant.

Once Jeff was back, he opened a folder, taking out various paperwork before Harry broke the news and told you that he’d love for you to be his assistant. You hadn’t expected to be hired on the spot, or be hired in general, but there you were, reading over the contracts and signing your name at the bottom of the last page along with the date. Jeff and Harry both shook your hands, telling you that they were excited for you to be along with the ride, and you told them that you were excited as well.

You had thanked Glenne a million times for getting you an interview, and till this day, you always made sure to thank her because one mention of your name had gotten you an opportunity and a well paying job that you actually really loved.

Harry also made the job bearable; not truly treating you as only an assistant, but rather a friend who helps a lot. Throughout the years of knowing each other, you and Harry had grown quite close. With always being around him, it was like hanging out with him, and you were thankful for that because you were sure no other job would feel like this. Harry also doesn’t give you difficult tasks either. He just has you go on coffee runs or run to the store to grab him something, but the most work you’ve had to do for him was to call several people on his guest list for a party he was hosting last year or write out his whole schedule for the entirety of the year. But nothing strenuous that would leave you frustrated with him.

He would also make sure everything that he assigns you to do is okay for you to do, and you really appreciated that, but you would do anything for that man.

You stood in front of Harry’s door, setting your bags down onto the floor before you reached into your purse to grab your keys where a spare key to Harry’s place hung on the metal ring. Before your hand could even find them, the door swung open revealing Harry smiling at you, looking impeccably sharp in his suit, which caused your heart to flutter.

“Ah, thought I heard you. Here, let me help you,” he grabbed the shopping bags from the ground and the flowers from your hands, leaving you empty handed as you followed behind him into his home. “Thank you for getting these. I’ve just been so busy lately,” he thanked once again as he did on the phone.

“Yeah, I know. Afterall, I am your assistant,” you teased, and he laughed as he studied the bouquet.

“This is a lovely bouquet. Good pick,” he said, and your mind immediately goes back to when he said that to you for the first time at your interview. He said it quite often as you ultimately always make the decisions when he asks you to go out and grab something for him.

“I thought so too. Also,” you opened one of the shopping bags, taking out the garment bag before unzipping the entire thing, “I got the exact dress you asked for, and get this: it was the last one in her size. Lucky man, you are, Harry Styles,” you handed him the Yves Saint Laurent black dress so he could get a better look at it, and he held it up, smiling.

“It’s perfect. Thank you so much, angel,” he said, and you slightly blushed from the pet name that you would never get used to.

Harry started calling you ‘angel’ when you were two months into working for him. With all the work you do for him, the pet name had slipped out, but it stuck once he kept calling you that. You loved it--a lot, and you hoped that one day, he wouldn’t forget to call you that because you would miss the simple name coming out of his mouth very much. Plus, it was fitting because your favorite song of his is ‘Only Angel.’

“Are you excited for tonight?” You asked.

“Yeah, I am. It’s been a while since I’ve properly taken her out on a date, so I’m stoked for it. Pretty sure she is too.” Harry had a busy schedule. With being involved in interviews and promo for his upcoming tour, he was a busy man, which you knew of course. But it had affected his personal life greatly.

“Well, I’m happy if you are. I hope she loves the dress,” you said painfully.

“She will. She’s been talking about it for a while now. I just hope she didn’t go buying it without telling me because that would be really awkward once I tell her to go change into this,” he chuckled softly, and you joined him, agreeing. Harry quickly checked the time on his phone as it read 6:30 p.m, and he carefully placed the dress back into the garment bag and zipped it up. He grabbed the bouquet of flowers and his wallet on the counter. “I gotta go. Gonna be late if I don’t leave now. Lock up for me if you decide not to stay, yeah?” You nodded, walking him to the door as if it were your house. “Oh!” He turned back around because he had forgotten something, and you were holding up his keys already, and he chuckled. “Thanks again. You’re a lifesaver. Don’t know what I’d do without you,” he leaned in to give you a brief kiss to your cheek, which he has done often, and you waved at him.

“Have fun tonight! Call me if you need anything,” you called out from his front door and he waved the flowers as a sign of goodbye before getting into his car. You watched him reverse out of his driveway and drive off to his girlfriend’s house.

With a sigh, you closed the door, looking around at what needs to be done. Harry’s place was relatively clean. He just had some things laying around on random surfaces, and you think that was probably because he was in a hurry, so he just placed them on the nearest surface. If Harry were here, he would probably tell you that cleaning up his own mess was so unnecessary and that he doesn’t expect you to, but you know that he’s grateful you’re doing it anyways.

You were silent as you tidied up his house, putting things back in his closet, and washing the bowl of yogurt and fruit he eats in the morning. It was an unnerving silence, and you just wanted to make any kind of noise just to fill the quietness that was slowly eating you away. You grabbed one of his shirts off the ground that slipped off the hanger, and you brought it up to your nose. His scent filling your senses as you closed your eyes, taking his smell in. You inhaled enough to practically take away his entire scent that was left on his shirt to fill the satisfaction in your body as you pretended he was close.

As you did that, you uncontrollably sobbed into the material, letting out a heartbroken cry as you covered your face with his shirt. You slowly sank down to the floor, completely sitting down on the cold tiles. The sudden outbreak of your cries weren’t new; they had made their appearance when he left for dates or after he was done talking about someone he liked. When you would go out to the store and grab things he wants gifted. When he would call you angel while he was with the devil who was keeping you two apart.

Once you calmed down a bit, you thought about how hugging his shirt was the closest you would get to him as you wished you were the lucky person he would be greeting them with his presence and a pretty batch of flowers, but he doesn’t even know your favorite flower.

It was the next day, and you woke up in the comfort of your own bed.

You had taken an Uber home around ten p.m the night prior as you figured Harry was still on his date and perhaps wouldn’t be coming home till later. So, after watching a movie on his couch and having dinner, you turned off all of the lights and locked up as you headed to your place for what you hope is a relaxing night.

A weird feeling had taken over you as you got ready for bed and it felt strange. You knew you weren’t yourself, and you hated that. The outburst of your crying was long forgotten as you climbed into bed and slept the day away.

Once you had woken up from your deep slumber, your charged phone was ringing with your text tone. Groaning, you stretched your body from the tenseness from your sleep before you reached for your phone, unplugging the charger. You rubbed your eyes and blinked a bit as the brightness of your phone was straining to your vision. When your sight had cleared up, you were greeted with various messages from Jeff, asking if you had heard from Harry or if you’ve seen him. Going to Harry’s message, you hadn’t received anything, so you texted Jeff back and told him that he hadn’t contacted you and the last time you saw him was last night. Jeff immediately texted back, asking you if you could kindly go to his place and check if he was there, and you instantly said yes, a bit worried as Jeff seemed to be worried as well.

You got out of bed for the day, not wanting to leave, but knowing you had responsibilities, you got ready for the day, doing your normal hygienic routine.

It was Sunday, and usually on Sundays, you didn’t have much work to do since it was Harry’s day off as well. That is, if it’s not on tour, he gets a nice little day to himself. So, you chose a comfy outfit—one where you wouldn’t sweat so much as you walked to Harry’s house in the summer heat. You opted for a big t-shirt and pairing it with black biker shorts, and some sneakers. With one last look in the mirror, you were out the door and headed to Harry’s house.

The day was beautiful as the sun was out and the sky was blue. Rarely any clouds to overcast the sun, and there was a slight breeze in the air, making the walk more bearable so you wouldn’t sweat all that much.

Once you got to Harry’s house, fortunately, it wasn’t that far of a walk from where you live, you unlocked the door and walked in.

“Harry?” You called out, looking around the living area. His shoes that he normally wears out are by the couch, so he should be somewhere. He might still be asleep, you think. You walk up the stairs to his room, knocking lightly before entering. And what you saw was something you wanted to erase from your memory forever. “Oh, fuck! Sorry!” You immediately slammed the door as you stood still outside of his room, in disbelief of what you just saw.

You had just witnessed Brooke giving Harry head. They were both obviously naked, and her actions were on full display too because the bed faced the door and Brooke was on the side of Harry rather than in front of him as she had his dick down her throat, and of course, Harry had his head back, simply enjoying it because what guy wouldn’t.

You heard shuffling through the door, and that took you out of your spaced out mind; quickly walked down the stairs and to the kitchen, grabbing yourself a glass of water, feeling yourself get flustered from how bare Harry was in front of you.

“God, does she ever learn how to fucking knock?” You heard Brooke faintly say as they both walked down the stairs, most likely thinking you didn’t hear, but you definitely did as her voice echoed throughout the whole fucking house. “Hey, girl,” she smiled once they both made it to the kitchen, and it was the fakest smile you’ve ever seen. No wonder she’s a good actress, you think.

“Hi,” you said back, sipping your glass of water as you avoided eye contact with Harry.

“Hi. What are you doing here? Do I have to be somewhere today?” He greeted, but immediately asked questions as if you were invading his privacy and day off. You looked at him very briefly, but remained your sight on his marble counter.

“Uh, no. Jeff told me to come here and check on you; said that he hadn’t heard from you, so he was worried,” you explained, glancing up and Harry nodded.

“Oh, okay. The last time I talked to him was before I left, but I hadn’t checked my phone since. Was it anything urgent?” You shook your head, realizing Jeff never really explained why he needed Harry, but you brushed it off.

“He bought me this lovely bouquet of flowers and a pretty dress for dinner!” Yeah, I know. I was the one who got them, you thought. “Then he took me out on a boat ride, and we came back here-”

“Spare me the details? I already know all of this. I am his assistant afterall,” you said in a not so friendly tone, interrupting her and not wanting to know the details of what happens in his bedroom that entails Brooke. Usually, you weren’t so harsh to anyone, but you had a reason to be a bit stern with Brooke because she bites back. Unfortunately for her, you bite back even harder.

Harry and Brooke have been dating for what seems like forever, but it’s really only been about six months. You tried being nice to her--you really tried, giving her your patience, but every time you see her, she would act cold towards you. Of course not in front of Harry because he thinks she’s an absolute saint, but she was the complete opposite of that. She was the devil and you were the angel. But of course, Harry doesn’t see that.

Brooke gives you a harsh look, rolling her eyes a bit as Harry grabbed a glass of water for both of them. She turns to him, giving him a big smile before reaching up to kiss his lips, knowing exactly what she was doing in front of you. She then took a sip of her water, hugging Harry before she said, “I gotta go. Have a meeting at ten. I’ll call you?” Harry nodded, walking her to the front door, giving her one last kiss before she was off and Harry shut the door. You scoffed to yourself as you watched them, rolling your eyes in a way to attempt to hide your pain.

Harry walked back to the kitchen, leaning on the counter, matching your stance.

“I’m sorry you had to walk in on us-”

“Harry, it’s fine. I should’ve waited before I knocked,” you tried to get rid of the thought of seeing Brooke’s mouth on Harry. That was the first time you’ve walked in on him like that--fully bare on the bed while in action. Brooke was probably his first serious girlfriend in years, but he’s had some one night stands here and there, which he called you in the morning to pick him up. It wasn’t your preferred task to do because of the pain you would always feel when you would see him walk out of the house he just slept in, but then again, he is your boss.

It was a bit quiet between you two, and Harry thinks that it’s because you practically saw his dick on full display. Partially it was for that reason, but it was also the way Brooke would treat you almost every time she sees you. Harry thinks back to when Brooke was in the house, and he could practically feel the anger from you when she was there.

“You know, you could be a little nicer to her,” he stated, recalling what you said to Brooke and how you said it.

“Well, she could be nicer to me in general,” you raised your brows, waiting for what he has to say about that.

“She is nice to you. She always talks about wanting to invite you places, but she comes back sad because you’re always so quick to turn her down.”

“Brooke has never invited me anywhere. In fact, she’s never said a word to me unless you were there,” Except for that time a couple of months ago when you two had a little chat that ended up with you in tears at the end of the night. You laughed as you were in disbelief that she would actually lie to Harry that she actually wanted to be friends with you.

“What? No. She’s always talking about wanting to get to know you more, but you just shut her down,” Harry’s brows furrowed, and you laughed even more. “W-What’s so funny?”

“Harry, you would know if she would have talked to me because I would’ve told you, but your girlfriend has never mentioned anything other than…” you trailed off as you stopped laughing, not wanting to overstep or overshare some of things that Brooke has really said to you.

“Other than what?” He noticed that you cut yourself off.

“Maybe ask her if you wanna know. I gotta get going,” you said, brushing it off as if it didn’t matter to you as you avoided his suspicious eyes while you headed for the door. “Make sure to call Jeff too. Oh, uh,” you turned around to find him following you to the front door, “Did you need me to do anything for you while I’m here?” You asked, still knowing that he was your boss.

“Oh, hmm, no. Don’t think so. Enjoy your day,” he said, and you got off of his doorstep.

“Bye, H-,” you were interrupted by the sound of his door closing. You raised your brows in confusion as Harry never really interrupted you, especially not like that. He would usually wait for you to get in your car and pull out of the driveway, but he didn’t even wait for you whatsoever.

You tried not to make it a big deal because you figured he was frustrated and probably a bit pissed that you weren’t so nice to Brooke, but how could you cover up her lie like that especially if she was so mean to you? You grew some thick skin when you first started working for Harry, and that meant that you learned how to stand up for yourself no matter who is talking to you, not even Harry’s girlfriend.

You groaned; on the topic of Harry’s girlfriend: how could he possibly think she’s a nice person? She put up such an act in front of him, and whenever he’s not around, that act is the complete opposite.

When will he realize what’s right in front of him? That’s been right in front of him for years now. You were tired of meeting his new love interests and picking him up from other people’s houses when he could be at yours without worrying about going anywhere or leaving because the morning would be spent cuddling and making breakfast together. Oh, how you envied the people he got to hold onto tight and freely kiss as you wished for those lips to land on you as he called you angel.

The thought was driving you insane because you wouldn’t dare tell him whatsoever. Afterall, he was your boss and it would be awkward if he didn’t feel the same way. But you think he would never see you in that way, so you keep your mouth shut and hold your heart close as you just go with the flow despite the pain you feel.

20 December 2017

Harry was laying on his back breathless as Brooke collapsed right next to him, deeply sighing as she tried catching her breath.

“How does it get better every single time?” She giggled as she was in a post orgasmic state. She shifted so she was laying into Harry’s side, cuddling him as he wrapped his arm around her. He smiled, kissing the top of her head. Brooke’s hand roamed his chest as it was her way of showing that she would like to go for another round.

She started kissing his chest and his neck, and Harry wasn’t opposed to the idea, but the sound of his phone vibrating on his bedside table had killed the mood.

“Don’t answer it, please. Want you again,” she sat up slightly and buried her head more into his neck as she kissed and sucked his skin. He was so close to listening to her, trying to block out the sound of his phone, but as it kept vibrating, he realized he couldn’t ignore it.

“M’sorry,” he sat up causing Brooke to pull away as she groaned, laying on her side of the bed. Harry picked up his phone and Brooke had a little peek at who was texting him. He had changed your contact name from your name to your nickname ever since he started calling you ‘angel,’ and it’s been the same ever since. He loved it; it added a little flare and he would always smile when he sees your contact name pop up on his phone.

“Does she always have to make an appearance at the worst times? Or in general?” She asked, but the last part was definitely muttered under her breath as Harry was too focused on reading your texts. Harry had sent out a text a few hours after you left on Sunday, saying that he was sorry for being rude and practically slamming the door on you. You had texted back saying that it was okay, and that you were sorry for being rude to him too. There were no rude remarks towards him, but your tone had said otherwise, and you knew that you could’ve handled that conversation better.

My Angel: Hi, H. I was wondering if you wanted to do some suit fittings before you leave to go back home or after? Let me know so I can tell Lambert and Harris.

“Sorry. She’s just wondering if I’m available to do some suit fittings for the upcoming tour,” he said to Brooke before texting you back.

H: Preferably after the holidays. We’ll do it right at the beginning of January.

“Isn’t she your assistant? Why doesn’t she just schedule it already?” She asked cluelessly.

It wasn’t like Brooke was stupid. No, she was smart. But there were some things that didn't click for her, which makes Harry and anyone have to explain things twice. She would usually have her assistant do everything for her without confirmation, and Brooke would just go with it.

“Well, I still have to approve of it, love. Can’t just book me without me knowing,” he chuckled slightly.

My Angel: Okay, perfect. I scheduled the fitting for January 4th. That’s okay right? I know you’ll be back before New Years, so I just wanna make sure.

He always loved how you were so cautious about everything. Sure, he wanted you to let loose sometimes and not take everything so seriously, but you two were a perfect team because you need to keep him in check sometimes, but you did let loose and have fun off the clock.

H: Yeah, should be good. Thank you, angel. xx

My Angel: That’s what I’m here for! You don’t have anything scheduled for tomorrow before you leave. Do you wanna get some coffee before your flight? Say at 8?

He smiled down at your text. Brooke noticed, which made her furrow her eyebrows in confusion, so she started rubbing his back and his stomach as she tried getting a look at his text messages. Once she saw a bit of it, she climbed on Harry’s lap.

“Do you want to get lunch tomorrow before you leave? I’m gonna miss you,” she pouted slightly, and Harry had only glanced up at her very briefly before looking back down at his phone as he was in the middle of responding to your question.

H: Sure! That’d be great. The usual spot?

My Angel: Yes, the usual :) see you then, H!

He grinned before locking his phone and placing it back on the bedside table. He looked up at Brooke who was impatiently waiting for him to give her attention as she had her arms crossed.

“Well?”

“Oh, sorry I’m actually getting coffee with Y/N,” he frowned slightly, somewhat feeling bad rejecting her offer.

“You don’t wanna see me before you leave?” She asked in an annoyed tone, getting off his lap to sit beside him on the bed.

“W-What?” He said in disbelief. “You’ve been sleeping over since Saturday. That’s why we planned for you to stay here until I leave right?” He stated obviously. They clearly talked about her sleeping over after their date on Saturday until he leaves to go back home for the holidays. So, he’s wondering if she’s missed something or she’s just acting like this to get a rise out of him.

“You think four days is enough? You’re gonna be gone for two weeks until I have to see you again, and you would rather spend your time-”

“Four days is a really long time! And I’m seeing you for New Years. I don’t understand where this is coming from,” Harry got off the bed and pulled on his boxers.

“I’m just saying…she’s already your assistant. Why do you have to spend so much time with her?” Brooke asked as she got under the covers as she watched Harry pull on his sweatpants.

“She’s also my best friend. Where is all of this coming from? Are you jealous or what?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes, and Harry furrowed his brows.

“Please. Like I could ever be jealous of her. All I’m saying is that I just want to spend all the time I can get before you leave, or I can go with you back home…” she suggested, and Harry perked up.

“What? You want to come with me?” She nodded eagerly as she smiled.

“Yeah, why not? We can spend the holidays together, and it’ll be fun. What do you say?” She crawled over to the edge of the bed where Harry was standing, and she sat on her knees as she looked up.

They’ve been dating for six months, and Harry hadn’t introduced her to his family. It wasn’t like he didn’t like her or he was embarrassed that he’s dating her, but that was a really big commitment that needed a lot of thought put into it. Meeting the family is just a big step for him, and although his family has met his previous partners, that was when they were still friends and not together. But with Brooke, it all happened so fast that his family had never met her when they were friends or hooking up. They obviously know he’s dating someone, but to bring them home? Especially on Christmas? He wasn’t ready for that.

“Maybe some other time. I’ll talk to them to see if they want to come over here for my birthday or something,” he rejected her suggestion. Home was just something so vulnerable to him that he wouldn’t just bring anyone.

Brooke sighed deeply, “Okay, I’ll hold you to that,” she said, impatient that she hasn’t met his family yet, but he’s met hers. “How about I come with you tomorrow morning to get coffee?” She looked at him as she pleaded with her eyes.

He knew that you wanted to spend time with him before the holidays and he wanted to as well. But Brooke obviously wanted to see you as much as possible now that he’s denied her suggestion of coming home with him, but she had been sleeping over for the past four days, which Harry thinks is enough time.

“I’m sorry, but no,” he said as it came out more like a question as he didn’t want to seem rude by saying no to her. Throughout the months of dating Brooke, he learned that she hates when people say no. Obviously, it’s fine when he says no to sex, but he could tell that it really frustrates her. “I haven’t seen her in a few days because I’ve been with you the whole time, so I think it’ll be good to catch up with her before I leave,” he smiled lightly, trying to make light of the room.

“Sure. Have fun,” she said sarcastically before heading to the restroom.

Harry sighed, grabbing his duffel bag from the closet before he started packing. He was simply just excited to see you tomorrow and his family over the holidays.

21 December 2017

You waved over at Harry once you saw him standing at the entrance of the coffee shop. Harry walked over to you with a beaming grin as he looked incredibly handsome. He wore black circular sunglasses that sat on his nose, a blue hawaiian shirt with a gray t-shirt underneath as a brown coat was thrown over his body. He wore his famous black skinny jeans and his famous brown Yves Saint Laurent boots that you know he has a whole collection of. His hair looked amazing as he recently cut it a week ago, and it’s starting to grow out a bit as the ends of his hair started to curl.

As he was close enough, you snapped yourself out of your trance of checking him out before you stood up, giving each other a hug and a cheek to cheek kiss.

“How are you, angel?” He asked, taking his coat off before taking a seat, and setting his coat down on the chair next to him.

“I’m good. I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and ordered for us. Should be out soon.” You had gotten Harry an iced black coffee, and despite the weather, he was always up for an iced beverage, especially when it came to his coffee; and you had ordered him a coffee cake--the coffee house’s specialty.

“Of course not. Thank you. So, you’re going back home right?” He asked, placing his arms on the table. Right as he asked, the drinks and food had arrived and you waited for the barista to leave before you answered.

“I might,” you said, taking a sip from the coffee mug.

“What do you mean you might? Told me that you were going,” he furrowed his brows in confusion because you two had just had this conversation the other week, and you were excited to go back home.

Home was in Oregon for you, and you moved out when you were eighteen to go to school in New York. It had always been your dream of moving to the big city, and although you loved Oregon, New York had made space for you to have a home as well.

“I mean, I was. But you know how I’m saving to buy a house right? Well, flights are expensive, especially when it’s around this time,” you explained.

“I can always-”

“No, no. Before you go saying that you’re going to buy me a ticket, don’t even waste your breath because I’m not taking it,” you shook your head, and Harry chuckled.

“C’mon, please? I know how excited you were to go back home. Don’t want you to be alone during the holidays,” he pouted as he cut into his coffee cake.

“I told mom the situation, so they might come here for a change, but not definite yet--was just a suggestion. But honestly, I don’t think they will because it might be too late and all that, y’know how they are,” you chuckled, knowing how late your family will be if things happen last minute. “Don’t worry though. Glenne asked if I could take care of Penny, and I said yes if I’m not going home,” you said, smiling at the thought of the shih tzu that Glenne and Jeff own.

“I mean, you can always come home with me,” he put it out there, and your eyes perked up.

“W-What? No. I can’t do that.”

“Why not? It’s not like I would be buying you a plane ticket either. We’ll be using the jet,” he smiled lightly as if there were no meaning behind his words.

“God, you just don’t know how rich you are--saying shit about your own fucking jet,” you teased, and he laughed loudly.

“But really. Think about it. Mum would love to see you again and I know Gems has so much to catch you up on,” he said, taking a sip from his straw.

You had met Anne and Gemma several times as they often visited sometimes or you would fly home with Harry and hang out with them while he’s working. They were a lovely family, if not, your second family, you would say. They were the kindest people you’ve ever met, and you’re so grateful that Harry was raised by great people surrounding him.

“Really, H. Thank you, but I’m going to pass that up. I’ll probably just suck it up and buy a plane ticket,” you scoffed slightly at your indecisiveness.

“Alright. Well, if you change your mind, which you have practically a day to figure it out, let me know and I’ll see what I could do with the jet going back here,” he said with a smile, wanting you to have choices rather than being stuck at home all alone during the holidays.

“Thank you, Harry. I appreciate it.”

The rest of the hours spent at the coffee spot was filled with conversation and laughter. Luckily, Brooke wasn’t one of the topics during your time together, and you were glad for it. Harry was also happy you didn’t mention Brooke either because he just wanted his mind to rest during his vacation, and not to say that he doesn’t like her, but it can be a bit stressful to communicate things with sometimes.

“Oh, you have to head to the airport already,” you said, looking at your phone and realizing that he has about two hours to head to the airport. “Do you have everything packed?” You asked as you two stood up from your seats and put your coats on. Harry put on his sunglasses, hopefully a way to avoid the curious eye of the public. Luckily when you two were having coffee, no one approached him, but there were some looks made towards you two, but none of them walked up to the table.

“Yeah, you have my shirts right?”

“Yup. They’re in my car.” Once you two made it outside, you were parked on the curb and Harry’s car was about three cars behind you. You took Harry’s shirts out from the backseat that were folded very nicely and ironed. You had borrowed a couple of shirts from him when you would sleepover and had forgotten to give them back to him, but Harry said it was fine for you to keep until he needed them. “Alright, here you go. Don’t need anything else before you leave right?”

“Actually, if you’re not busy doing anything, do you want to drop me off at the airport? I can call ahead of time and tell them that my driver isn’t going to take me, so we have access to the back,” he said with hopeful eyes.

“Oh okay, sure,” you smiled softly.

“Great,” he gave you a big smile before looking down at his phone, and you assumed he was texting Kyle, his driver, that he didn’t need to pick him up anymore. “Okay, I’ll see you at my place? I just have to get my shit.”

“Okay, race you there! Wait, no, just kidding. Really, drive safe,” you chuckled, and Harry laughed.

You met Harry at his house which was only about ten minutes from the coffee shop. His car was already in the driveway when you had pulled up, and you just decided to wait outside by your car for him, popping open the trunk. A few minutes later, Harry came out with his duffel bag, locking the door behind him.

He put his stuff in the trunk before hopping into the passenger seat of your car, and you were off to the airport.

Traffic was a bit heavy, but you made it just in time for Harry to check in and get settled without having to worry if he was late or not. You had pulled into an underground garage of the airport, and got out of the car as Harry got his stuff out from the trunk.

“Guess I’ll see you on New Years?” You stood in front of Harry behind your car. He nodded before taking you into your arms.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then. Let me know if you’re going back home or if you decide to join us,” he said into your ear as he hugged you tightly around your waist. Your arms were looped around his shoulders, giving him a warm squeeze.

“I will. Have a safe flight, and text me when you land,” you said back into his ear.

“Always do.”

Both of you pulled away, but his touch had still lingered on your arm; raking his hand slowly down your arm as he walked away, and you had wished you weren’t wearing a coat with many layers underneath just so you could feel his hand on your bare skin.

“Don’t miss me too much,” you teased. Harry turned around and smirked; the one that made your stomach do flips.

“You know I will. Gonna miss me too?” He asked in return.

“Always do, H. Always do,” you blew a kiss at him, and he caught it, placing his hand on his heart before walking through the doors.

You sighed as you got into your car before pulling out of the garage and driving back home.

It may seem a little peculiar on how you two ask towards one another despite him having a girlfriend, but it’s always been like that between you two. It all started when you were at a party right beside Harry, and a few friends of his went up to you two and asked when you two were going to get together. At that time, your heart stopped because you had just figured out that you had feelings for him. But Harry responded with “until she lets me,” and it was meant to tease you, but it had left you in confusion.

Since then, you two would tease each other and somewhat act like you were together, but it had died down a tad bit ever since he’s gotten a girlfriend. And although Harry is a natural charmer, you two were best friends, so there was a tad bit platonic flirting between you two.

But you wished that he would see past the best friend line and assistant line.

31 December 2017

The cold air from the room had made goosebumps rise onto your skin, although it seemed warm in the room from the crowd that was gathering rather quickly while the music started becoming louder, and chatter and laughs filled the room.

You were talking with Glenne and observing the people around you at the same time; everyone was wearing their best attire for the new year, and you were as well. You were wearing a red silk dress that hugged you just right as the material in the back dropped to your mid back, showing almost the entirety of your back. You wore nude four inch heels, feeling like the height of your shoe was enough so you weren’t completely struggling to walk throughout the night. And your makeup was sparkling with gold colored eyeshadow and a red lip. You looked hot, and you knew it.

One of Jeff’s friends had booked a hotel room on the top floor, literally right next to the ball drop, so everyone can just look out the window rather than going outside in the freezing weather.

It was nice to dress up after being cozied up throughout Christmas. You had decided to go back home after all, buying your plane ticket right when you got home from dropping Harry off at the airport. It was a bit pricey because of the fact that you were buying the ticket a day before the scheduled time the flight is supposed to take off, and considering that it was the holiday season as well. But you had gotten a Christmas bonus unexpectedly, and everything worked out.

You enjoyed your time with your family and getting to spend a week with them before you had to leave for New York again for New Years.

You also hadn’t expected to receive a gift from Harry on Christmas morning when your mom was passing gifts out. With a confused expression, you took the big box from your mom’s hands that was wrapped in red and white festive wrapping paper with a bow on it. Once you opened it, you had softly gasped when you saw the items inside; it was all of your favorite things, including some extra items Harry had picked out for himself. He had gotten you a much bigger planner, for the next year, that will help for work, and you smiled, knowing that he had remembered you talking about how much you wanted the planner so badly. The box also contained some of your favorite snacks, little Knick knacks that reminded him of you, and a velvet rectangle box that held a small diamond pendant attached to a thin gold chain.

It was absolutely stunning, and Harry must’ve spent a lot on it, but he didn’t mind. He thought it was going to look so beautiful on you, and it made you feel special that you were wearing something so meaningful from someone that means so much to you.

The gold chain sat perfectly on your collarbones, and you hadn’t taken it off ever since you received it; only when you showered, but you put it right back on after.

The volume of the room had increased, and you turned your head towards the door and found Harry walking in with a bright smile on his face, and of course, Brooke right alongside him with her arm looped with his.

They looked absolutely stunning together as they walked inside the building as they greeted everyone with big smiles. They radiated perfection and luxury as everyone’s eyes were on them as if they were a piece of art hung up high in the gallery--worthy enough to be looked at. But your eyes were placed on one person in the room, and you so wished you were right beside him instead of her.

The couple had made their way through the crowd when Harry spotted Jeff in the corner. With Harry leading the two of them with their hands interlocked together, they greeted Jeff and Glenne before Harry let go of Brooke’s hand to give you a hug.

“Hey, angel,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he slightly picked you up off the ground. His hands met the exposed skin of your back and he felt goosebumps rise onto your skin as his cool metal rings touched your skin.

“Hi, H. How are you?” You asked against his ear and he set you down on your feet before pulling away.

“Good, good. Missed you.”

You blushed, “Miss you too. Also, thank you again for your present, it was so thoughtful and lovely.”

“I’m so happy you liked it. Thank you for yours as well. I love it a lot,” he beamed as he looked down at you. You had given Harry three presents. The first one being a black soft leather journal with his initials engraved in the middle and spine of the journal in gold. The second gift was a manicure set because he recently started to paint his nails, so you wanted him to have all the tools and colors he needed. The third gift was a photo album of his success (you also threw in a couple of you and him). You told him that he can look at it anytime he wants, but it’s just a reminder of how proud you are of him and how far he’s gone; and you would be adding more in the future. It had made him tear up a bit as he found the gifts to be so sweet and sentimental of you.

“Hi, Brooke,” you greeted with a small smile, and you saw her face beam as she hugged you, but you knew that it was definitely a fake one to put up an act in front of her boyfriend.

“How are you, girl?! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” She yelled over the loud music.

“Good, thanks. How are you?”

“Great! Did you see what Harry got me for Christmas?” She waved her arm out to show you the diamond bracelet that sat on her wrist. It was very beautiful, you had to admit. It was very Brooke, and you were glad Harry didn’t ask you for any help with trying to find her a Christmas present.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” you excused yourself, not really wanting to be around her much longer as she smirked and tried to flaunt her gift in your face. But you didn’t let it get to you because you truly loved the gifts Harry had gotten you, and it made it extra special because he put so much thought into it.

You made your way to the bar, downing the remains of your drink before asking the cute bartender for another one.

“Having fun?” He asked with a smile as he set your drink down onto a black square napkin.

“Sure, let’s just say that,” you chuckled sarcastically before throwing your head back to take the entire cup of alcohol down your throat.

“Thanks,” you set the glass down before walking away.

You wanted to go back to where Glenne was standing, but you had bumped into some friends that you had met through Jeff on your way, so you had to catch up with them and tell them everything that’s going on with you after they told you their whole life story.

The hours to the new year went by pretty quickly. You ended up hanging out with a few friends and going outside with them to have a smoke. The alcohol and weed had eased you, and you actually had a really fun time with them. The idea of Brooke clinging onto Harry had left your mind and you loosened up, smiling and dancing along with drinking.

There were five minutes left until midnight, and everyone was gathered next to the window that overlooked Times Square. The volume in the room was loud as everyone screamed and laughed—excited for the new year.

You were standing next to Harry, and of course Brooke on the other side of him. Glenne and Jeff were on the left of Brooke, and both of the couples had their arms around each other as the only thing you were holding was a glass of tequila as you didn’t have anyone to celebrate the new year with.

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six!” Everyone chanted, and you chuckled, laughing at your loneliness when there were so many people around you. Your eyes watered up, crossing your arms as you looked at the shining lights through the window.

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” The sounds of cheers and party horns erupted in the room as people took each other against their lips.

You slightly glanced right next to you and saw Harry and Brooke kissing lovingly as she smiled into the kiss, along with Jeff and Glenne.

You turned away, looking out at the window as you raised your glass. “Cheers,” you whispered to yourself before throwing your head back and consuming your tequila shot.

Everyone was so consumed in one another that nobody noticed the tears streaming down your face as the loneliness you had felt physically and mentally took over.

4 January 2018

Harry was standing on the elevated box in front of a mirror. He was wearing a sparkly pink suit with gold lining on the seams, along with a gold shirt with a pussybow. Harry Lambert was behind up, straightening out the jacket.

You had sat on the couch of the large private dressing room as you observed. Harry looked at you through the mirror, giving you no emotion. You smiled, but he didn’t smile back; only looking away and taking his attention on the suit. You furrowed your brow, confused as to why he was looking at you like that and so coldly.

You stood up, walking over to him. “It looks great, H.”

“Thanks,” he said quickly.

“Think you can dance in it?” You teased as you smirked, trying to add some sort of lightness to see if his cold looks were accidental.

“Pretty sure,” his tone was very short, and your smirk fell.

“Wait right here. Just need to get something really quick for the pants,” Harry Lambert said before walking out of the dressing room.

There was a moment of silence, and Harry pulled on the suit jacket so it sits nicely on him. By this point, he would’ve asked for your opinion and for some reassurance because sometimes he needs those extra words that tell him it doesn’t look too much or weird on him. But you got silence.

“Is everything okay?” You asked warily.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” You still weren’t convinced enough.

“Yes, now can you please stop asking me? Fuck,” He rolled his eyes, voice slightly raised.

“What is your problem?” Your brows furrowed.

“What my problem is, is that you won’t leave me the fuck alone nor would you stop talking. I’m just trying to do some fittings, but you wouldn’t stop talking,” he huffed. He didn’t even turn around, just kept looking at himself in the mirror.

You scoffed, grabbing your bag from off the couch. “Don’t fucking ask me to come with you if you didn’t want me here.” You headed for the exit before turning around at the last second. “And next time, look me in the eye and tell me that shit,” you said before you completely exit the building and head towards your apartment.

You’ve never been so annoyed before, and that says a lot because you deal with a lot of people from the industry and Brooke. You didn’t know what came over him because he’s never talked to you like that nor has he raised his voice at you. With utter confusion, you sat on your couch, taking off your shoes for the day since you didn’t have any other work to do for the day, and you thought going with him to his fitting was a waste of time if he was going to act all pissy on you.

Only moments later, you heard a knock on your door, and you immediately knew it was Harry probably coming by to tell you that he was sorry and he didn’t mean to say those words. But words are words and despite not meaning to say them, they still came out meaning that he was thinking it. But since this was Harry, the kindest human you’ve ever met, you opened the door because he’s your best friend and you deserve an apology.

Huffing, you opened the door to find Harry standing on your doorstep with his head down and a slight frown to his face. Without saying anything, you moved to the side, opening the door wider for him to walk through, which he does. You walk over to the couch and take a seat; Harry sitting on the other side. The fact that you weren’t saying anything was killing him, but he doesn’t blame you. You crossed your arms as you waited for him to say something, and he inhaled deeply before he spoke.

“I’m sorry for what I said back there. I shouldn’t have taken all my anger out on you because you don’t deserve that whatsoever. You were just trying to make sure I was okay, and I really appreciate that,” he resented himself for acting that way towards you. His eyes were red and he looked quite sad, and you want to know what made him originally feel this way.

“Why were you so mad to begin with?” You asked curiously, and he sighed as you brushed away his apology.

“Brooke and I have been fighting--ever since New Years. She claimed that I was always hanging out with you and that I left her at the party to be with you, but that’s not true right? I feel like I barely saw you during the party,” his brows furrowed in confusion. He was right; you barely even hung out with him during New Years because you were some other friends, and the only time you really spoke to him was when he arrived and after the countdown, but that was it.

“Why is she so…” you trailed off, not wanting to sound so offensive towards his girlfriend.

“You can say it.”

“Possessive? Obsessive? Threatened by me? I mean I get that you’re her boyfriend, but I haven’t done anything to trigger that, have I?” You tilted your head as if you were thinking. You were never the one to steal someone’s boyfriend because that wasn’t any of your business; no matter how much you liked that person. But your attitude towards Harry was very much best friend-like. You miss him on days when you don’t see him, you give him big hugs when you reunite, you give each other friendly kisses on the cheek in a way to say ‘thanks,’ but it was never meant to steal him away from her.

“No, you haven’t. I don’t know… I feel like she’s always had this problem with you because you’re my best friend, but also assistant--the closest person to me. I always tell her that she has nothing to worry about, but she doesn’t trust me for some reason.”

“I’m sorry, H,” you said, placing your hand on his knee in a way to comfort him. He placed his hand right over yours in a way to say ‘thank you for understanding.’

“I should be the one apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong. I really am sorry for how coldly I acted towards you,” he softly smiled, and you gave him one back.

“It’s okay. Was it unnecessary? Yes. But it was one time,” you forgave him.

“You’re the best. But I should get going to finish up the fittings,” he said, standing up from the couch. You stood up, walking him to the door. “I’ll see you?” You nodded, giving him a big hug. He embraced you with both arms as he squeezed tightly before he walked out the door. You figured there was no point in going with him since he only has a couple of suits to try on, so you stayed back.

About thirty minutes later, your phone vibrated. Seeing Harry’s contact name, you smiled to yourself.

H: Attachment: 2 images

How do these look?

You chuckled. He had sent you mirror pictures, holding up a peace sign as he was in a sparkly blue suit.

My Angel: You look like Cinderella lmao

I love it!

Harry smiled. He was about to text you some silly joke about being Prince Charming while you’re the princess, but he heard a voice at the door, making him stop what he was doing.

“Hey, babe!” Harry looked up and saw Brooke walk in. His eyes widened as he turned around, and she gave him a kiss.

“W-What are you doing here?” He asked, confused.

“Jeff said you’d be here, so I decided to surprise you!” She said cheerfully, holding his hands.

“O-Oh, I’m very surprised,” he chuckled nervously. He didn’t really know why he was nervous, but possibly the fact that if he hadn’t snapped at you, then you would still be in the room, which would have raised questions and yet another argument with Brooke.

“I figured after you’re finished, we could get an early dinner and you could come back to my place?” She suggested. “Think we need to talk about some things.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I have about two more suits, so you can wait outside-”

“Silly! No, I’ll wait here,” she took a seat on the couch you were just sitting on thirty minutes ago. He nodded without saying anything before he proceeded on to his next suit.

You looked down at your phone on Harry’s message thread, waiting for his reply. You saw the text bubbles pop up and you smiled, waiting for him to say some corny joke, but they went away. You waited for a moment, so they could pop back up, but they didn’t. So, you shrugged, locking your phone, and wondering if he got caught up in something, so he couldn’t reply.

1 February 2018

It was Harry’s birthday and the crowd was rolling in.

He decided he wanted to spend his birthday in Los Angeles since most of his friends are there anyways. Plus, it’s a small get together before the tour starts next month and then he would be all over the place. He wanted a semi small party at his house, nothing too crazy, he just wanted everyone he cares about at the party. Anne and Gemma flew in the day before to join in on the fun, and you were excited to see them because you missed them like crazy.

“Angel! This party is great! Thank you for keeping it so nice and small,” Harry said, giving you a hug. He also handed you your favorite drink, which is a whiskey on the rocks.

“I’m happy you like it, birthday boy,” you smiled as you watched everyone gather into his Malibu house. There were about thirty people in total that were on the guest list, only adding people Harry was close to.

“Ah, there’s mum and Gem. Let’s say hi,” he told you, and you excitedly smiled, walking towards the door.

“Mum!” Harry called out, and Anne’s eyes lightened up.

“Oh, my baby! Happy birthday, my love,” she kissed his cheeks as he hugged her.

“Hi, Gems,” he greeted his sister, also giving her a hug.

“Happy birthday baby brother. One more year and you’ll be a quarter of a century,” she joked, and Harry chuckled.

“Ha ha, very funny. I’m so happy you guys are-”

“Y/N? Is that you? Oh my god, come here you!” Anne interrupted Harry once she saw you. Her eyes widened and she was smiling like crazy as you walked towards her, giving her a lovely hug. “Oh, darling. It’s been a while since I saw you!”

“Yeah, it really has been. You both still look so amazing,” you said, giving Gemma a hug.

“Please, you’re too sweet to us. How have you been? Don’t want to quit just yet because of this one?” Anne joked, nudging Harry as he playfully rolled his eyes.

“Heyyy,” his brows furrowed, and Anne pinched his cheek.

“I’ve been good. And not yet. Give me about five months and we’ll get back to this conversation,” you joked back, looking at Harry to see him frowning. You looped your arm around his waist, giving him a hug, and he stopped frowning; his face turning into a small smirk.

“Let’s definitely catch up later. I’m going to say hi to Jeff and Glenne. Be right back,” Anne said before walking through the crowd, Gemma following her.

You and Harry were alone again as you two sipped on your drinks. Some people said hi to them, but not making conversation for too long as they wanted to get another drink or food.

“Is Brooke here? Haven’t seen her,” you asked curiously. Harry’s face dropped, and you looked at him confusingly.

“Oh, fuck,” he pinched the top of his nose as he looked down, shaking his head.

“What?”

“I totally forgot she was coming,” he said, and you fought the urge to laugh.

“How did you forget your own girlfriend?”

“I don’t know--I was just so focused on the tour and this party that it slipped my mind that she was coming,” he sighed.

“Oh okay. What’s so bad about her being here?” You wondered.

“That means she’s gonna meet mum and Gem.” Your mouth formed an ‘o’ as if realization struck you, and Harry nodded his head as if he was saying ‘yeah, that’s why.’

“Better prepare for that because I could already hear her laugh,” you placed your hand on his shoulder, patting it. Harry took a deep breath and downed the rest of his drink before he walked over to the entrance. You chuckled as he did so as you found it amusing that he had to do that to deal with her.

After you heard her squeal, which meant that Harry had gone up to her already. You started walking towards the entrance door, and you saw them hugging; she then started jumping and kissing him, whispering into his ear and biting her lip as he gave her a smirk.

As you watched from the sidelines, your heart started to ache. You wished that it was you instead of her. You wished you could whisper all things sweet and dirty into his ear as he looked at you with a smirk before biting his lip. You wanted him to give you the same smile he gave her, although you were starting to see less and less of that smile. You wanted what she had.

But you would never get that.

“Hey, you,” Gemma sneaked you from behind you, causing you to slightly jump. “Sorry,” she chuckled.

“It’s okay. What’s up?” You smiled, trying to hide the pain in your eyes.

“You’re not going to tell him, huh?”

“Tell who what?” You raised your eyebrows, pretending to be oblivious. Gemma gave you a knowing look as she raised her eyebrows.

“You know what. Not gonna tell him at all?” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders as you turned your head back to them. They were posing for some pictures with their arms around each other’s waists. They took a couple: smiling ones, funny ones, and even a kissing one. You turned your head back to Gemma once they started to kiss for a picture, and she softly smiled at you.

“There’s no point. He’s with Brooke, and it’s not like he’s ever going to like me or get with me,” you sadly explained. Gemma looked at you as if you were totally wrong. “If he’s happy with Brooke, then why would I ruin that for him because of my selfish reasons?”

“It’s not selfish for wanting to tell someone you love-”

“I don’t love him,” you immediately interrupted.

“Y/N…c’mon,” she raised her eyebrows, knowing you’re completely wrong.

“Okay…” you sighed in defeat, and she chuckled, continuing what she was saying.

“You’ve known him for what, two years? That man makes sure you’re a priority. He makes sure you’re happy. If you could hear the stories he tells us and how he talks about you, you would think otherwise,” she stated before taking a sip of her drink.

You stay quiet for a moment and think. Was there any way that Harry could have possibly liked you? There’s no way. You hadn’t noticed anything different about his behavior in the past two years you’ve known and worked for him. So, there was no way he could’ve liked you. And you know you’re only telling yourself that now, so you don’t lose your shit at his birthday party.

“W-What does he say about me?”

“Maybe you’ll know some time in the future if you tell him,” she challenged, and you rolled your eyes, causing Gemma to laugh.

After Harry and Brooke managed to get away from the entrance, you and Gemma saw them walking towards you both.

“Y/N, hi!” She greeted you with a not so surprising high pitched tone; only because Harry is right next to her. She also gave you a hug, which you only put in half the effort like always. Harry smiled at both of you, and she let go.

“Gems, where’s mum?” He asked his sister.

“Think she might be in the back,” she replied, looking at Brooke for a brief moment before looking back at Harry.

“This is Brooke,” he introduced his girlfriend.

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Brooke said with a big smile on her face, giving Gemma a hug. Polite as Gemma is, she hugged back.

“You too,” Gemma simply said.

“Should we go to the back and find mum? Brooke wants to meet her,” Harry asked, and Gemma nodded before walking towards the backyard.

You stayed back, realizing that you weren’t needed and you didn’t have any business following them for Brooke to meet Anne. So, you walked over to the kitchen to grab a plate of cheese and crackers. Since the kitchen was right next to the large doors that led to the backyard, you looked up and saw Brooke jumping up and down slightly as she greeted Anne with a hug. You saw Anne smiling, hugging her back before they pulled away and started talking. Harry looked at them so fondly as they spoke.

“Hey,” a voice next to you had startled you, making you slightly jump, taking your attention away from what’s happening in the backyard. Luckily, not dropping any of your food.

“Hi,” you said back to the man you don’t know.

“I’m Alex. One of Jeff’s friends. I don’t believe we’ve met yet,” he shook your hand, smiling.

“I don’t think we have. I’m Y/N,” you nicely said back.

“So, how do you know Harry?” He asked, grabbing a grape.

“I’m his assistant, and best friend.”

“Oh, shit! Special person I’m talking to, right here,” he smirked. Alex was cute and very attractive, but it wasn’t the same kind of smirk that you’ve been in love with for two years.

“Hardly,” you scoffed before giving him a small smile as a way to tell him you’re somewhat joking.

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. By any chance, you want to go somewhere to sit and talk?” He proposed hopefully. It wasn’t a bad idea whatsoever. You needed to make new friends and possibly make some new connections. You also didn’t want to depend on Harry all the time when you wanted to talk to someone because he’s busy, and his girlfriend doesn’t like you. So, you nodded.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He smiled, leading you to a more quiet area of the house, which was the sitting area.

Meanwhile as you were chatting with Alex, Harry watched Brooke interact with Anne with a smile, but he still felt a weird feeling in his chest, like he’s happy about it, but he’s still wary. He brushed that feeling off, looking around and wondering where you were--if you’re having a great time. He turned his head towards the kitchen, and saw you talking to Alex. Smiles were placed on both your faces, and Harry frowned. He knew Alex was charming him up because that’s what he does. Alex technically wasn’t a bad guy, and Harry’s known him for a few years. He was nice, attractive, and can charm the shit out of someone just like Harry. But the sight and thought of seeing him actually charm you did not sit well with him. It really didn’t sit well once he saw you following him out of the kitchen.

Harry took deep breaths, trying not to let the thought of you possibly enjoying hanging out with Alex as he carried on with his birthday night.

6 February 2018

A deep sigh was let out once you sat in your seat on the plane.

It was cold in Los Angeles and you knew the flight back to New York was going to be a bumpy one considering the weather in both cities, so you dressed comfortably, wearing grey sweatpants, a black sweatshirt, and some white sneakers. Your headphones had been plugged into your ears ever since you were cleared at TSA.

As you got comfortable in your seat, Harry sat next to you, sighing. You obviously didn’t hear it because your headphones were in, but you definitely heard it the second time when he did it louder. You didn’t do anything, just browse on your phone until he dramatically sighed again, even louder this time.

“What?” You said, taking your headphones out.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He immediately asked, and your brows furrowed.

“Ignoring you? Why would you think that?”

“Well, for starters, you haven’t really spoken to me since my birthday. What’s up with that?”

“Well, I didn’t really have to, did I?” There was no reason for your somewhat sarcastic tone and it’s not like you weren’t mad at him or anything, but you were exhausted from flying back and forth, plus doing your job. It’s not like you were ungrateful, but sometimes, you just needed a break, and that included, not talking to anyone.

“You could’ve just answered my texts saying you were okay and that you weren’t going to be on your phone,” he scoffed, and you knew he was right. You were about to say you were sorry until he muttered something else. “Too busy with Alex, I see.”

“What?” You asked in disbelief, knowing he said what you heard, but wanted to clarify.

“You were, right?”

“What does this have to do with Alex?” You were starting to grow frustrated.

“I mean, I saw you two at my party, and you two left together and stuff. So, you were probably busy for the entire week,” he said casually, scrolling through his phone as if you weren’t fuming right next to him.

“It was one night-”

“Are you saying you had sex with him?” He turned his head towards you with raised eyebrows. He had this look on his face that told you he knew everything, but he just wanted to hear you say it. So, you did.

“Yeah. So what if I fucked him? Is there something wrong with that? Didn’t get a little birthday sex? Don’t worry, I had some for you!” You tried containing your yells, but it came out like a loud whisper. Luckily there weren’t that many people on the plane; only the people who flew first class.

It was true. When Alex had suggested talking, you found out that he was a very nice and funny guy. The night was getting late, and you said you were going to head home (which was a hotel), so he offered to drive you since you took an Uber, and that led to you inviting him up to your room and him gladly saying yes. It all happened so quick. You had immediately kissed him once you closed the door, and that led to him taking both of your clothes off before he fucked you. It was average sex, but you had fun considering that it’s been a while since you’ve had someone fuck you. That morning he left, telling you to text him, but you hadn’t and you don’t know if you will.

Harry stayed quiet, looking back down at his phone, and you shook your head, sitting correctly, and looking out the window, knowing that this was going to be a long flight.

Just as you knew, the ride was bumpy, raising your fear and anxiety as you held onto yourself for dear life. You turned your music up, put your hands into your sweater, and crossed your arms in a way to calm you down and feel like someone is holding onto you. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the songs until you felt a hand on your arm. You opened your hands, and saw Harry with his eyes closed, but you knew he wasn’t sleeping. He had always held your hand when you two would fly together and there was turbulence. It was something he did that made you feel safe and comfortable during the flight.

You smiled softly, taking his hand in with your as you shifted closer to his seat despite the middle console in between you two. For the rest of the flight, you weren’t as scared.

Once you two landed, Harry’s driver was immediately outside in the designated area, and you two were taken back to your place before there was any cause of commotion at the airport. Harry helped you with your bags, walking to your front door.

“Hey, I’m sorry for everything on the plane,” he said as you looked for your keys in your purse.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too--for not replying to you and for snapping at you on the plane as well,” you said back. “Can I just ask why you were so...angry I was with Alex?” You wondered.

“I…uh,” he stumbled over his words, trying to find the right thing to say without it coming out like he was a jealous prick. “Just...Alex is known for charming the shit out of you, so he could sleep with you, but seeing as you already slept with him…”

“Harry, isn’t it my job to decide who I can and can’t sleep with? I get that you want to look out for me, but just let me decide that, alright?” You said softly, and he nodded.

“Think I was jealous,” he blurted out, and he immediately closed his mouth and widened his eyes once he said that because he really didn’t mean to.

“W-Why?” You looked at him concerningly, and Harry took a deep breath because now he had make up an answer because god knows what the truth is.

He took a step forward, looking at you so intently. You felt like he was staring you down, but you didn’t look away as you were so lost in his eyes that it physically made it difficult to even glance the other way.

Next thing you knew, he was inches away from you, glancing down to your lips and back up to your eyes. You held your breath as you looked up at him, looking extra close at the pinkness of his lips. Your chests were pressed so close against one another that you were sure he could feel your heart pounding through his. It was so loud that it rang through your ears—so loud you couldn’t hear anything else except for the constant chanting in your head screaming ’Harry, Harry, Harry.’ It was Harry that you wanted to kiss so badly. It was Harry who’s lips you could touch in an instant if you were to just lift your feet. It was Harry. It always has been.

But you couldn’t.

Brooke.

You immediately stepped away from him as your eyes looked down, finally away from Harry. “I’m sorry-”

“No, I’m sorry-”

“Because Brooke, and-”

“Yeah…”

You nodded, not sure what to do next, but seeing as you were still outside of your door, you finally got your keys out, and unlocked it.

“Well, I’ll see you.”

“Yeah, I’ll text you,” he said as he started walking backwards away from your apartment.

You nodded. “Yup. Bye.” He waved, turning around and walking down the hall.

Walking into your space and bringing your luggage in, you sighed as you closed the door. It was completely silent as your mind was racing and your heart was beating.

What the fuck just happened and what the fuck was that?

3 March 2018

The first show of Harry’s tour was kicking off, and you were excited for him. He was slightly nervous and jittery, but that was expected.

The ‘moment’ you two had when you came back from Los Angeles after your birthday was past you two. Although, you still think about it way too often, Harry seemed like he didn’t want to talk about it, so you respected that and didn’t bring it up. Besides, what was there to talk about anyways?

The first show started in Basel, Switzerland and you were very stoked. You’ve never been to any of the countries he’s going to play in besides London and some cities in the states, so it was going to be an adventure for you. For his very first tour that included small venues, you rarely went to any of the shows, so to say you were excited was an understatement.

You were with Harry Lambert, looking at the first show suit in the stylist room. It was a Gucci black sparkly suit with gems on the lapel. You hadn’t seen this particular suit on him yet because you weren’t at the fitting the day he tried it on, but you absolutely loved it. It gave everyone just a hint of what the rest of the suits for the tour will look like.

“Har—oh,” Brooke had entered the room, assumingly looking for Harry, but was disappointed when she saw you. “Have you seen Harry?”

“Uh, I haven’t. He might be out on the stage,” you said honestly, and she nodded, turning around. But before she could exit the room, you called her, “Hey, Brooke.” She turned around, rolling her eyes. “I just kind of want to mend things between us. I feel like there has always been some sort of tension ever since we met, and seeing that you’ve been around for long and might be around for even longer, we should be civil towards one another.”

“Well, obviously there has been. You’re trying to steal my boyfriend,” she said straightforwardly, and you raised your eyebrows, looking at Lambert. He was looking at Brooke with a not so friendly look, knowing that you would never do that despite knowing that you were in love with him. “I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. You will never get Harry. He’s in love with me, not you. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do. You will never be enough for him because you’re just his assistant. That’s all you are to him. Don’t think you’re more than that, okay?” She said with a smile, and you bit your lip, not wanting to argue with her.

There was something about her words that really got to you, and you think that’s because she’s actually dating Harry and has managed to weave her way into his heart.

“I’d hate to continuingly have to tell you this, but I think the first time was enough, right? Now you’ve made me tell you twice,” she continued as she scoffed. “Anyways, I need to go find my boyfriend,” she turned around but suddenly stumbled back as she was met with Harry. “Oh, Harry. I was just looking-”

“Don’t even speak right now,” his eyes were dark and he was angry.

It wasn’t like you to see Harry so often considering that he sometimes deals with rude fans and pushy paps, but he was mad.

“I-”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Trying to degrade my best friend and assistant?”

“Har-”

“We need to talk,” he told her, leaving the room. She turned around to look at you with sad eyes, but you simply couldn’t help her, not like you would anyways. She followed him, and the room was left with a weird tension that needed to be cut with a knife.

“Well, wasn’t that interesting,” Lambert said.

After about thirty minutes, Harry walked back into the room. He stayed complete silent and started undressing to get into his suit since there was thirty minutes left until he had to go on. You and Lambert looked at each other, not knowing if you two should say anything, but decided to keep your mouths shut and let him get ready.

Once he was dressed, he thanked Lambert and walked out of the room; once again with the same tension being in the air. You walked out as well as you debated whether or not to talk to him, but you saw him and the band gathering together, so you figured you could just talk to him after.

The show had finally started, and the band was going out on stage. The crowd was roaring like crazy as the anticipation of seeing Harry was finally coming to an end. Once the band was fully equipped, Harry started to climb up the stairs. Around the stage it was dark as the beginning of ‘Only Angel’ started to play. You turned on your flashlight on your phone, and called out for him.

“Harry!” He turned around, holding the railings of the stairs, and his expression was normal; no smile or anything. “Goodluck out there!” Once you had said that, the corners of his lips turned up as his mouth turned into a soft smirk.

“Thanks, angel,” he said before pointing up as a way to say ‘listen to the song.’ “This is for you,” he quickly told you, running up the stairs and to the stage before the big circular screen rose up.

You watched the rest of the show from the side of the stage, not too far away from the front of the pit. He was spectacular on stage; he truly belonged there. He charmed the crowd, made them laugh, scream, cry, and dance their hearts out for an hour and a half, and you were truly amazed. The atmosphere of the venue was insane, loving every second of it.

Once he finished with ‘Kiwi,’ he said his goodnights to Switzerland before running off the stage and meeting the band, talking about how crazy and fun the first show was. He told everyone that it’s only going to get better from here, and everyone nodded and high fived excitedly.

After a few minutes, Harry walked to his dressing room to cool off, and you followed behind him. It may seem as clingy, but you were concerned for your best friend. A lot went down with Brooke in just a few minutes, and you wanted to know if he was okay, despite not showing any signs of sadness or anger on stage.

You knocked on his dressing room door and opened it before you heard ‘come in.’ Harry looked up, and saw you peek your head through the door, and he gestured you to come in all the way, which you did.

“That was an amazing show, H,” you complimented.

“You watched?” He asked surprisingly.

“Yeah, didn’t miss a moment. I was on the side of the stage.”

“Oh, well. Thank you,” he said.

There was a moment of silence as you tried to form your words on how to go about talking to him about what had happened before the show.

“I-I just wanted to ask if you were okay?” You started. He took a seat on his couch as you stayed standing up in front of him. “I’m sorry for what happened before the-”

“Why are you saying sorry?” He asked, looking up at you as if he was genuinely asking.

“I...I don’t know what happened with Brooke, but if something did happen then I’m sorry,” you nervously. The only reason why you were so nervous was because you hoped that he didn’t get mad at you for whatever happened with her.

“You didn’t do anything, angel. You did nothing wrong at all,” he sighed, and you stayed quiet as there was definitely more of what he wanted to say. “But I did break up with her.” Your brows raised at that, and you fought the urge to jump and cheer.

“Y-You did?”

“Yeah. I kind of wanted to a few weeks ago, but I never got the chance to. But before the show, she gave me another perfectly good reason why we shouldn’t be together, so I ended it.” There wasn’t a hint of sadness on his face as he told you.

“What were the other reasons?” You hadn’t known that he wanted to break up with her before the events that happened today. You would expect him to talk to you about it, but you weren’t hurt by it.

“I…” he cut himself off, and you waited patiently to see if he was going to say something. After a few more seconds, you saw him debate with himself to see if he actually wanted to tell you, and you wondered if he trusted in that sense; to talk to you and tell you things that were on his mind, but you didn’t want to get into it with him.

“Are you okay?” You asked instead, truly wanting to make sure.

“I should be asking you that.”

“No-”

“Angel, c’mon. Behind closed doors, I didn’t know half the shit she was saying to you. I told her to fess up everything she’s done to you, and she did. Let me tell you, I was not happy at all that you had to deal with that without me knowing. And that fact that she lied to me about asking you to hang out and pretending to be nice to you--no wonder why you didn’t want to hang out with her.”

The first time you had hung out with her was when you had to pick up some lunch and dry clean for Harry. They had only been dating for two months, so you thought it was best to get to know her since you were Harry’s best friend. You asked if Brooke wanted to go, and she hesitantly said sure, but when Harry thought that was a great idea, she perked up to it and said yes. When you two were in line for lunch she had asked you the basics of your job before rudely interrupting you and telling you that she knew that you were in love with him. Before you could even deny, she wasn’t having it and told you that you weren’t good enough for him and that you were only hired because you were Glenne’s friend. You were quite devastated after that and you faced Harry everyday with a smile on your face, but with the lingering thought of her words in the back of your mind.

“Yeah, she wasn’t my particular number one person to hang out with,” you said sadly, and Harry sighed, standing up. He walked closer to you, and it felt like that time when you got home from the airport, and placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Her talking shit about you was the last straw. Can’t have anyone talk to you like that, ever,” he said while looking into your eyes as if he was trying to convince you.

“I am really sorry that you had to go through a break up though--especially on your first night of tour. Plus, it was your first serious relationship you’ve had in a while,” you felt bad because no one should go through the pain of a breakup.

“It’s alright. Wasn’t in love with her like she said--didn’t even say those words to her. And it was her idea of wanting to meet my family. I was still wary about it, but that was one of the subjects for most of our arguments,” he sighed. “But I’m gonna be much happier without her. Felt like I was always stressed out around her,” he chuckled, causing you to as well. “But if anyone that I know talks to you like that ever again, please don’t hide that from me. I hate knowing that you were taking all of that shit, especially for months.” You nodded your head and he gave you a smile.

He pulled you in for a hug and you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest. You two stayed like that for a moment as you both felt like it’s been a while since you two has had one of these hugs. All thoughts and worries flew out of your head--not thinking about when the next time you’ll have one of these types of hugs again, and you felt safe in his arms.

And you cherished it.

30 March 2018

Tour was going by rather quickly as the first ten shows were already done with.

You were able to see some beautiful sightings of the countries with Lambert and some of the band, and throughout that time, you had wished Harry was with you all, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t be out in public so casually.

Everything you’ve seen was so beautiful and your jaw dropped everytime you would look at a tall and high building, or the skyline of the entire city. You were quite amazed.

Now, everyone was in Barcelona, and it was by far one of your favorite cities that you’ve visited. You loved the atmosphere and the ambiance that walking through the streets of Spain had placed a beaming grin onto your face. You were only staying for a couple of days before everyone had to pack up and head to Madrid, but you made sure to snap a mental and physical photo to remember your time in Spain.

But rather than spending your day on the streets, roaming around the beautiful city, you were currently looking for Harry because Lambert was also looking for him, and of course, you decided to help find him. You pretty much checked every room backstage besides the bathroom, and you didn’t really think to check the restroom, but he might be in there, so you made your way towards it.

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in,” you said once you entered the restroom.

The sight before you had made you sweat. A series of butterflies made its appearance in your stomach, making your hands shake. The slightest bit of air from swinging the door open had made chills rise onto your skin, but you knew that it was because of the beautiful man in front of you.

You had walked in on Helene taking pictures of Harry, possibly so he could post them on Instagram. But he was candidly looking into the mirror as he sprayed on his Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille cologne; the one that you had picked up for him multiple times, and the one that you think smells amazing, specifically on him. He strutted around like it was made for him, and it was honestly your favorite scent. His suit was a custom Palomo black and white checkered sequined suit that just looked fucking good on him.

“No worries, sweetheart. Just about finished. He’s all yours,” she winked at you before heading out of the bathroom.

“What’s up, angel?”

“Just wanted to tell you that Lambert is looking for you. Said he needed to fix up a stitch really quick before you go on stage,” you said, not meeting his eyes.

“Is that all?” He asked, sensing your nerves, and he knew that it was possibly from walking in on him, doing a mini photoshoot because he knew he looked good.

You gulped, “Y-Yeah.”

“You don’t sound too sure,” he challenged, walking closer to you, but not too close as there was a bit of space between you two.

“Uh-”

“Tell me,” he shifted even closer, making you nervous. You didn’t know where the sudden outbreak of him being somewhat flirtatious as he demanded you to tell him came from, but the sound of his raspy and deep voice, and the way he was looking was making you act up as you were about to confess your feelings towards him.

You figured it was time as you felt like he sensed that kind of vibe from you, plus Brooke mentioning that you were in love with him, which you think you’re pretty sure he heard, but you’re wondering why he hasn’t

“I-I want to tell you something, and this may potentially ruin things between us, but-”

“There you are!” The sound of someone else’s voice in the room and the banging of the room had interrupted you, and you and Harry stepped back from one another. “Everything okay here?” Lambert asked, looking at both of you and practically feeling the tension. Once you two nodded, not looking at each other, he looked at you both suspiciously before continuing. “Anyways, come with me. I need to fix something,” Lambert walked out of the restroom as Harry followed him, not giving you another look.

You turned around to look in the mirror, sighing to yourself as you shook your head.

Well, guess that’s not happening right now, you thought.

Watching Harry up on stage was something you would never get used to. You made sure to never miss a show as you watched from the side, and since he knows where you stand during the show, he always makes sure to go to that side of the stage and wave to you. But seeing him on stage was different every night. His performances and conversations with the crowd were always different and that’s what made them and him so entertaining.

Once the show was over, he made his way off the stage and to the dressing room. He talked a bit with the band, as they always did right when the show ends, to talk about their favorite moments and which songs they needed to work on for rehearsals. After that, Harry walked to his dressing room and you would follow every single time.

“Another great show, H. Never get tired of watching you,” you said once you entered the dressing room.

“Thanks, angel. Always feel like I’m on a high when I’m trying to cool down, like I just have so much energy to perform another hour,” he chuckled, wiping some sweat off his forehead.

“That must be exhilarating--being up there every night for your fans,” you walked towards him to stand in front of him as he leaned on the table of the vanity.

“Yeah, it really is,” he smiled. He pulled your arm towards him and wrapped his arms around your waist, giving you a hug. You were surprised by the sudden affection, but Harry was an affectionate type of guy, and really, you didn’t mind being close to him. Plus, he seemed extra needy since he recently just broke up with someone. “Thank you for being here.”

“Of course, Harry. Always going to be here for you,” you said against his ear as your arms were around his shoulders.

“And I’m always going to be here for you,” he said back.

For a moment, it was just this--hugging him as he cooled down in your arms, and you liked it...a lot. But when you pulled back, you didn’t pull back completely and it made you face to face with him, literally inches away from each other. You two looked at each other in the eye, glancing your eyes to his lips and back up to his eyes. The only thing you thought was: I really want to fucking kiss him right now.

And it seemed like he did as well because he crashed his lips with yours, molding them together as your arms were wrapped around one another. It was everything you expected as you dreamed of his lips on yours quite often, and you absolutely loved it. He felt like a drug, like all of your pain and worries went away once his lips touched yours, and you were addicted. You wanted so much more.

Your tongue makes its way in his mouth, meeting his, and he swirled it with his before lightly sucking on it. Your teeth found a way to bite his bottom lip and he let out a groan. He pulled back for a bit, looking at you before kissing you again.

“God, been wanting you for so long,” he groaned, and you felt butterflies in your stomach, trying not to take his words literally as to keeping your hopes down. But little did you know that his words were serious. “Can I touch you?” He whispered in between kisses.

You nodded, whispering out, “Please.” Harry’s stomach did flips once you gave him consent, and his hands trailed down your body. Luckily, you were wearing a simple dress with straps, so it was easier. He bunched up your dress up to your hips, and you held it up with your arm before touching you over your panties, feeling a wet spot over the fabric.

“Practically drenched. It’s for me, right?” He muttered, wrapping his free arm around your waist so you were closer.

“Yes. Always going to be for you,” you moaned as his hand continuously rubbed you and he smirked. Your words had completely slipped out, but it was the truth.

“Can I take them off?” He asked, and you nodded your head before he slid your drench underwear down your legs and you kicked them off to the side somewhere in his dressing room. You molded your lips with his again and grabbed a fistful of his curly hair, causing him to kiss you even harder.

Harry then started roaming his hands around your thighs, going to ass and squeezing the flesh, and you moan against his mouth. His hand moves up and to your stomach before trailing down to your hot core. He took his fingers and swiped up your slit, making you groan from the feeling of his hands.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered before touching your clit and rubbing it. He buried his face in your neck to kiss, suck, and nibble on your skin, and that feeling made you throw your head back as his hands rubbed you and mouth kissed you. The feeling was indescribable, but it was Harry.

You felt his fingers slip inside of you, starting off with one finger before pumping in and out of you. He then added another finger as he curled them in an inward motion and brushed his fingertips against the soft upper area of your pussy.

“Shit, that feels so good. So, so good, H,” you groaned out. Harry took the straps of your dress off your shoulders, and kissed your chest where the gold chain he had gifted you rested. He pulled on the front of your dress to expose your tits, and his mouth immediately wrapped around your hard nipples, sucking them and pulling on them before releasing them with a pop. Your grip on Harry’s hair tightened as you felt like you were going to rip out his hair from the way you’re feeling. “Add another,” you whimpered out.

“Another finger?” He looked at you with wide eyes, but all he saw was your eyes closed and head being thrown back; and you nodded. He added his pinky finger in with his ring and middle finger, trying his best to curl them up into you, but the snugness of your hole was challenging him. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Practically squeezing my fingers,” he said, kissing your neck.

His words and fingers had gotten you to the edge, and you were minutes away from releasing around him. He saw you bite your lip and take deep breaths, and he knew you were close.

“C’mon, angel baby. Let go for me, yeah? Know you’re close,” he thrusted his fingers deep into you, and that was when you hit your peak. With loud moans, you jolted around his fingers, riding your high out as Harry continuously pressed kisses to your chest and neck. He took his hand, sticking one of his fingers in your mouth, and you swirled your tongue around his finger that was covered in your orgasm, and moaned. He took the other two fingers, and placed them in his own mouth, tasting yourself on his fingers. “Taste so good,” he smirked, kissing your forehead, and you leaned your head on his shoulders to take a breather.

Once you calmed down, you turned your head to kiss his neck, sucking on his skin to calm your breathing down, and Harry hissed. His hands ran through your hair and all the way down to your back, soothing you. After a minute or two, you lifted your head up, meeting his eye before you kissed him, deeply. You two made out for a while you unbuttoned his black shirt, and you pulled away from his lips to kiss down his torso until you were on your knees. Harry was hard as rock in his pants and desperately needed some release that he could possibly come any minute with how you’re kissing him.

His entire suit was still on and he went to take his jacket off, but you stopped him.

“Keep it on,” you looked up at him as you told him so before proceeding to kiss down his stomach. He put his arms down, and gripped and sat on the edge of the desk. You got to the hem of his pants and looked up at him, giving him a sight to die for. “Can I take these off?”

He looked down at you, smirking before nodding his head. “Please, take it all off,” he gave your cheek a stroke with his thumb, and you smiled looking back down to his pants to unbutton it, pulling down his trousers to his ankles, you saw his bulge, and smirked before you kissed over his underwear. Harry took a deep breath in as you palmed him before grabbing the hem of his briefs and pulling it down, his dick springing up as Harry’s shoulder relaxed from the lack of restraint.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you said, grabbing his dick. You knew very well that he was well endowed because of the many times you’ve seen him get hard on stage, and also from that moment when you walked in on him in Brooke’s mouth had confirmed it, but seeing it up close was unreal. You licked your hand and grabbed his cock before looking up at him. “What do you want me to do, Harry?” Your voice asked seductively. He was completely under your spell as his breaths were staggered while you stroked him.

“Anything you want,” he breathed out. You smirked at the state he was in at the moment, and you loved every second of it.

You put your mouth around his tip, sucking it lightly, and that caused Harry’s breath to hitch in his throat. You took more of him in your mouth as you relaxed your jaw. He was bigger than the guys you’ve fucked and you really hoped you were doing a good job for him because you wanted him to feel good. You hollowed your cheeks in and sucked hard, slicking your tongue on the underside of his cock.

“Feels so good, angel baby,” he moaned, throwing his head back. He was already embarrassingly close, but he wanted to feel you more, so he tangled his fingers in your hair, getting a gentle but steady grip, and started guiding your head up and down his cock. You let him take control for the time being because honestly, you loved hearing the sounds of his moans start to progress. “That’s it,” he muttered under his breath once he felt the back of your throat.

You placed your hands on his thighs, gripping his skin harshly so that your nails dug into it, and he hissed, but the pain felt so good to him. After a few more pushes to your head, you pushed on his thighs so he could release you, and when you did that he knew that he was done being in control. You grabbed his cock that was slick from your mouth, and you loved your head down so you could take his balls in your mouth. More of the beautiful sounds coming from his mouth came out more loudly as you sucked until he finally said the words.

“Gonna cum, angel. Gonna fuckin’ cum,” he moaned. You saw his knuckles practically turn white as he gripped the desk hard. You loved your head back up to place the tip in your mouth as you fondled with his balls before he spurts his come in your mouth. “Such a fuckin’ good girl,” he said as you swallowed.

You kissed back up his stomach and to his neck before meeting his lips again. He tasted himself on your tongue, and you were a good mix with him. You two pulled back from one another, looking at each other before you both started giggling—post orgasm haze.

“Jeez, such an angel, but that mouth of yours is sinful.”

5 June 2018

The rest of the Europe, Australia, and Asia leg went by, and you were back in the states for the first show of the US leg.

Ever since the dressing room escapade, you and Harry had been acting differently towards each other. There weren’t anymore sexual acts, but there was a lot more affection. Sadly, not any kisses to the lips, but kisses to the cheek and forehead were made, and they were welcomed and given. He would always put an arm around your shoulder when you two were walking, and there was the occasional cuddle in his hotel room before or after the show. It was definitely different, but you enjoyed it.

What you didn’t enjoy was the fact that you hadn’t told him you liked him. You were sure he had an idea, but you wanted to say it out loud to get it off your chest. You also didn’t know if he felt that way towards you whatsoever, and that thought scared you. Just because of what happened in the dressing room didn’t necessarily mean he had feelings for you. The thought of him just leading you on and messing with you feelings made your heart sink when you think about it, and you really hoped it wouldn't get to that point.

Tonight was the Dallas show, and Harry wore an Alexander McQueen embroidered pink floral suit. As always, he looked amazing. But your favorite was the Barcelona suit, and you might be a bit biased on that given the events that happened in that particular suit. You chuckled to yourself as you followed Jeff and Glenne to your seats.

You decided to watch the show with them in the reserved seats in the lower level of the arena, and it was a change from the side of the stage, but you could really see more from the seats. Once you got to your seats, Harry had already finished up with ‘Only Angel’ and was moving on to ‘Woman,’ but a familiar man had caught your eye.

“Alex?” You called out through the music.

“Y/N! It’s so great seeing you!” He said, giving you a hug.

“What are you doing here?”

“Jeff and Harry invited me! Haven’t seen Harry perform since last year, so they reserved me a seat,” his face was close to your ear, so you could understand him better through the loudness of the crowd and the bass of the music.

“Ah, well I’m glad you’re here! It’s been a while,” you said completely innocently, and he nodded, smiling before turning his head to watch Harry on stage. In all honesty, the thought of Alex slipped your mind because your head was constantly thinking about Harry as it always does.

For the rest of the show, he was amazing. The crowd was wild as always, and he absolutely looked so cute in his suit. Your favorite part was when someone threw a rainbow sequined cowboy hot on stage, and he picked it up to wear it. It was a look, to be honest.

Before the band said their goodbyes to the crowd, the four of you headed backstage, so there wasn’t any delay with everyone trying to leave at the same time. As you were walking, you were walking next to Alex as Jeff and Glenne walked in front of you two.

“Hey, I was thinking. Maybe we should get dinner tonight? Y’know, to catch up? I know some places that are still open,” he suggested, and you liked the idea.

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good,” you said, smiling back.

The four of you met with the band as they laughed and talked about the show. You met Harry, giving him a hug as you told him that he did amazing out there. He hugged you back tightly, telling you thank you.

“C’mon,” he said, taking your hand as he wanted to go to his dressing room as you always did after his shows.

“Oh, uh, actually,” you pulled your hand back, causing him to stop walking. “I’m going out to dinner with Alex…” you said nervously, and he raised his eyebrows, looking down the hall and noticing Alex talking to Adam.

“Oh okay, yeah. Go ahead,” he let go of your hand, completely dropping it from his as his face dropped. In that moment, you wished you didn’t say yes to Alex and went with Harry to his dressing room. This would be the first time you were going to miss out on dressing room chats as he calmed down from his energetic state from being on stage. It would be the first time you weren’t going back to the hotel with him while holding his hand in the car and up to your rooms.

“Hey,” Alex caught up to you, not feeling the tension between you and Harry. “Ready to go?” You looked up at him briefly, placing a fake smile on your face before looking back at Harry who already had his back turned towards you, walking to his room.

“Yeah, I am.”

21 June 2018

The prospect of not talking to Harry as much hurt you a bit.

You haven’t had a full conversation with him in about two weeks. The most you’ve ever spoken to him was when someone was looking for him or if he was clearing up and clarifying his schedule. But other than that, nothing. You didn’t know why it was like that, but you tried not to let it get to you as you told yourself that he was tired from the tour. He was on the last month of tour and the flying had definitely caught up to him.

But that wasn’t the real reason.

You have been going out with Alex ever since that night in Dallas, and you thought it was nice to have someone to talk to other than Harry and the rest of the crew and band--although they’re very nice and fun people, you saw them everyday. And you came to find out that Alex was even more fun once you’ve gotten to know him even more.

Alex made you feel free. There was something refreshing about hanging out with him that made you want more, and he definitely took your mind off of thinking about Harry... by having his tongue down your throat and inside of you. There have been plenty of pleasurable times when Alex had made you feel good, and vice versa. It started out in the night at Fort Lauderdale, two days after Dallas, and you went out with Alex to a bar in the city. Both of you had too much to drink and he asked if you wanted to go over to his hotel, which of course you said yes. One thing led to another, and you were underneath him, moaning his name out. Ever since then, he would watch every other show and you two would have date nights that took the night away into a hotel room.

It was nice, and he liked you and you liked him back.

Liked him as much as Harry? Not quite. But there were definitely a little bit of feelings for him. Besides, he calls you nice things and tells you you’re pretty.

It was Harry’s first New York show in Madison Square Garden as a solo artist, and he was pumped, but also a little nervous. You were so incredibly proud of him and what he’s done in his career, so you were happy for him. And you were happy to be back home for a few days as well because you haven’t been home since the beginning of the month.

Alex stood next to you with an arm around your shoulder the entire time of Harry’s show. He was wearing a custom Gucci white suit with flowers printed all over and the phrase ‘Memento Mori’ underneath it. The lapel part of the suit was a velvet material and he wore a black shirt underneath. The trousers were flared from the knee down, and you absolutely loved it.

When the show was over, you and Alex headed backstage to meet with the band. You had expected that he wanted to get dinner already, but he hadn’t mentioned anything, so you assumed that you were going to go back to your hotel and hang out with him there.

“Lovely show, H,” you hugged him tightly, but he didn’t reciprocate the same energy into the hug like you, and you found that odd because he usually hugs you tight.

“Thanks,” he smiled softly, shaking Alex’s hand before thanking him for coming to the show.

You turned towards Alex and asked, “What’s the plan for tonight?”

“Oh, I was going to tell you, but I’m hanging out with a couple of friends from college that live here. So, I can't hang out with you tonight. I’m sorry,” he slightly pouted. “I’ve got to get going now though, so I’ll see you tomorrow?” You nodded understandingly.

“Yeah, definitely. Probably best we don’t hang out all the time because I don’t want you to get tired of me,” you joked, and he shook his head no. “But I’ll see you tomorrow. Text me,” you told him before he gave you a kiss on the lips before heading towards the exit.

Harry had watched the whole interaction with a small frown. He tried to contain his jealousy when he saw Alex kiss you and you smiling, but it was difficult for him to not scoff loudly, so he turned around and walked towards his dressing room. You turned around to find Harry missing, and you assumed he went to his dressing room, so you headed over there. You knocked on the door before entering, and you found him on the couch with his phone in his hands.

“Hey,” you smiled, sitting on the couch as he muttered a ‘hi.’ “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, what makes you think I’m not?” He said defensively, and you furrowed your brows.

“I never said you weren’t. I just wanted to make sure you were. I haven’t talked to you in a while.”

“Well, that’s not my fault,” he whispered under his breath before continuing to scroll through his phone.

There was a bit of a silence, and unfortunately, it was an awkward one. You didn’t feel needed in the dressing room, but you sat there awkwardly as you didn’t know what to say to him.

“You’re seeing Alex?” He suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah. Just hanging out with him,” you got up to grab a water bottle from the table, and you opened it, taking a sip.

“So, you’re fucking him?” He said casually, but you choked on your water, immediately coughing. Once you calmed down, you looked at him with watered eyes.

“Uh…”

“You can tell me,” he said sternly.

“I mean, yeah, we had sex a few times, but there’s no label or anything like that. We’re just hanging out,” you told him, and he nodded.

“Do you like him?” He raised his brows, and you took a deep breath, wondering what all these questions were for.

“I think so, but-”

“Good, he’s a good guy,” he interrupted you. You liked Alex, yeah, but comparing your feelings for Alex to Harry...unmatchable. “I’m glad you’re happy,” he said, getting up from the couch before grabbing a towel from the vanity and walking out of the dressing room. Once he left, you were alone in the dressing room. You sighed deeply as you buried your face in your hands.

“Yeah, sure I am.”

22 June 2018

The sound of ringing had woken you up from your slumber.

You groaned as you tried to make out where your phone might be on your bedside table with your eyes closed, but you were hitting empty spots, so you opened one eye and grabbed your phone.

“Hello?” Your morning voice coming out through the speaker.

“Y/N. Can you come by, like right now?” It was Harry on the phone, and you groaned. After the night prior, you thought he didn’t want to talk to you, but seeing as you’re still his assistant, of course he would call you.

“Why must you call me at,” you pulled your phone back to look at the time, “six in the morning?”

“Please. It’s important. I have some stuff I need you to do,” he pleaded, and you stretched your limbs out, making inhumane noises while still being on the phone, and Harry chuckled.

“Fine. Be there in like twenty.”

“Thank you, angel! See you.”

He must be in an awfully good mood this morning, you thought. And it’s been a while since you heard your pet name, but you brushed it off and got ready.

You unlocked the door of Harry’s house, letting yourself in. You found him sitting on the couch, reading a book until he looked up at the door and saw you. He got up and walked towards you, and opened his arms, giving you a big hug.

“Hey, angel. Thanks for coming by,” he said into your ear, leaving you in goosebumps.

“Course. Everything okay?” You asked once you pulled away.

“Yeah. I miss you, y’know. Feel like we haven’t spoken in a while,” he trailed off a bit, and you squint your eyes at him.

“I sense a ‘but,’” you said, and he chuckled.

“I actually need you to get these for me, if that’s okay? Just need them before the show,” he handed you a list, and you looked at it.

The items were something similar as before: a bouquet of flowers and a gift basket with various types of snacks. As you read through it, that’s when you knew and your heart sank.

“So who is it?” Harry looked at you curiously, and you waved around the list up. “Who are you dating?”

“Oh, this girl I met through a mutual friend. She actually was at the Dallas show and we met after at a bar. She’s in the fashion industry; her name is Rena,” he explained with a smile. “She’s coming to the show tonight, so I just wanted to get her a little something.”

“Okay, I’m on it. I’ll see you tonight,” you headed out, figuring since you had nothing else to do, you could stretch your errands out until the show. You decided to have breakfast first and get some coffee since it was quite early still, and enjoy a day to yourself until Harry introduces you to yet another girl.

Rena was a nice lady. She was two years older than you and Harry, and she was drop dead gorgeous. You’ve never seen anyone this stunning up close. She always had the sweetest smile, and you were contemplating if she was real or not, and why Harry is calling you ‘angel’ and not her. It was difficult to hate her, and it’s not like you wanted to, but considering that you have feelings for Harry, you wanted something to be wrong about her--maybe a Brooke 2.0, but she was so kind to you, and she loved everything that was gifted to her from Harry, even if the items were the smallest things. So, there were no complaints.

Harry seemed happy with her, so that’s all that mattered.

1 July 2018

It seemed like Rena was around all the time now, like she was at every show since night two in New York. You tried to busy yourself by going around the town you were in or talking to Alex, but you missed Harry. It was always like this when he was dating someone; the first few months, he would completely forget about you and always hang out with the person, but once he starts settling in, he wants to talk to you. And since he’s only been dating Rena for a month, he hasn’t been talking to you lately.

You watched Harry on stage in St. Paul next to Rena, Alex, and Jeff as Harry was wearing a sparkly pink Gucci shirt with a pussybow on the front and some black trousers. The energy in the room was amazing. By far it was the best performance of ‘Medicine’ you’ve seen him perform. He even held out a pair of handcuffs in front of the crowd, making them go crazy, and he looked up at your section, glancing at Rena before smirking, making you cringe a tad bit as she cheered.

At the end of the show, you greeted the band, and immediately Rena was attached to Harry, which made you impatient because you wanted to hug him like you always do. But they were wrapped in each other’s arms as they kissed, no plans of letting go of one another.

“Hey, wanna head out?” Alex asked. You still hadn’t said hello to Harry, but you figured you could text him later, so you nodded, glancing back at the two of them and walked out with Alex. He took you to a diner that wasn’t too far from the hotel and you both ate breakfast for a midnight meal because breakfast simply hits differently when it’s at an unusual hour. Alex then walked you back to the hotel room, and you were exhausted by this point. You just wanted to get out of your shoes and sleep for a very long time. You were lucky that you weren’t sharing a room with Alex because sometimes you just needed to be alone, and this moment was that time. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said, stopping in front of your room and your brows raised as he continued. “We’ve been dating for about a month now, and I really like you, so I wanted to ask if you wanted to be my girlfriend.”

You had expected anything else, but that question. Your heart beat practically stopped for a moment as you looked at him, wondering if he was serious, and when he didn’t say he was joking, you realized that he was actually being serious.

“Oh, uhm…”

“It’s been fun getting to know you and travelling to these places with you, so I figured it was time to ask you.”

“Alex...you’re a really nice guy, but I’m just not sure I can be your girlfriend,” you told him honestly, and his brows furrowed.

“Why’s that?”

“I-I like you, but I feel like my feelings for you aren’t 100% there when it comes to being your girlfriend.” He only nodded, and you were getting quite anxious when he didn’t say anything.

He then started laughing, pacing around in the hallway and you crossed your arms.

“That’s hilarious,” he said.

“What-”

“No, the only reason you don’t want to be with me is because you’re in love with someone else!” His voice raised, making the hallway echo a bit. You looked at him, not knowing what to say. “Yeah. I know you’re in love with Harry. Noticed that the first time I met you; that you were staring right at someone that wasn’t yours, but desperately wanted to be.”

“I…” you were speechless. Had you really been that obvious about your feelings towards Harry that everyone around you noticed?

“It’s a shame though, isn’t it?” He had a grin of the devil; mischievously and humiliating. You looked at him nervously, urging him to continue. “You’re in love with someone that doesn’t even want you,” he stated. “That doesn’t look your way for a second when he thinks about a relationship because you’re only his assistant. Not once would he look your way down the street if you weren’t working for him,” he looked you up and down, and your eyes started watering, and you were embarrassed that you were about to cry in front of Alex as he crushed you in every possible way. “It’s okay, don’t cry. You have me,” he opened his arms to take you in for a hug, but you physically pushed him away because now you were angry.

“I have you? Are you fucking kidding me? After you just humiliated me?” You were breathing out through your nose as your tears made their way down your cheeks.

“Hey, I’m just telling you the truth-”

“Why did you even ask me to be your girlfriend?” You asked, genuinely confused on his logic.

“Well, the question that you’re supposed to be asking is why did I talk to you in the first place?”

“Why did you?”

“Since you want to know so bad,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes. “When I saw you, I definitely liked you, but then I saw you were giving heart eyes to Harry, so I thought I could change your mind. See if I could switch your feelings up,” he chuckled.

“So, this was some sort of experiment? Guessing your hypothesis was wrong then, huh? Go ahead and write your conclusion as: fucked her, but dick wasn’t good enough to fall in love. So, fuck off,” you rolled your eyes and opened the door before slamming it shut in his face. Your back was leaning against the door as more that you’ve been holding onto fell from your face as you heard him still talk.

“You’ll never be like Brooke or Rena, or whoever he dates in the future! You’re nothing to him!” He yelled through the door as his words came out muffled.

Sliding down the door, you finally heard him leave, and you were full on sobbing. You tried not to let his words get the better of you, but the way Alex spat them out so easily, it was hard not to.

Because what if he’s right.

7 July 2018

Harry noticed that you had been feeling off the entire week.

It was like you were simply existing, but not present in some moments when people would talk to you. You had this dull look on your face, and it wasn’t the same as your bright and happy look that he looked forward to everyday. He noticed it when everyone was leaving from Minnesota, and he told himself that it was because you were tired, which was true, but he didn’t know the whole reason.

After the show in Seattle, he didn’t see you like he used to, and he wondered where you or if you even watched the show. Once he high fived and talked to everyone for a bit, he headed to his dressing room, hoping that you were in there, but you weren’t. So now, he was worried.

H: Hey, where are you? He texted. Luckily, Rena wasn’t around anymore because she would want all his attention after the show. He simply couldn’t take someone being so clingy, so he called things off with her. It may have also had to do with the fact that he didn’t want to hide his feelings anymore, and being with other people just wasn’t working for him anymore. Not when you were in front of him.

It’s been a long time coming now, and he felt stupid for not telling you in the first place since he’s been in love with you since last year--during the time he was with Brooke. He was honestly afraid to tell you, and when he heard Brooke say it, he just felt so much shock run through him, so he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t have an excuse as to why he got with other people while being in love with you, but it just made him feel in control of himself because he couldn’t control his feelings towards you, so he got scared. So, he decided that when everyone gets to California in two days, he’s going to confess his entire feelings for you.

Harry walked to your hotel room, knocking on it as he waited for you to answer. He could hear shuffling and movement through the door, and he hoped to god that Alex wasn’t in there with you.

“Who is it?” You said through the door, softly.

“Angel, it’s Harry. Can I see you?” He asked. There was a pause, but then he heard the door handle rattled as you opened the door.

Your face was a crying mess and your hair was up in a very messy bun. Harry’s mouth opened slightly as he concerningly asked, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His question and concern had made you sob even more as you shook your head. “C’mere,” he pulled you in for a hug and you sobbed into his chest as he walked you over to the edge of your bed. He observed your room and saw that there were a stack of clothes folded on the other bed along with your open luggage with some of your belongings inside. “Angel, what’s going on?” You pulled your head out of his chest to look at him, knowing that he was probably wondering why you were packing; and he had a sad expression on his face.

“I’m leaving,” you simply said.

“Leaving? Where are you going?” His brows furrowed.

“I’m going back home.”

“W-What? Why?”

“I can’t be your assistant anymore, Harry,” you cried, and Harry’s heart sank as his jaw dropped.

“What are you talking about? A-Are you quitting?” You stood up, placing the stack of clothes in your luggage as you sorted them.

“Y-Yeah,” you said quietly, and Harry has never been more confused in his life.

“W-What did I do wrong? I’m sorry we haven’t been seeing each other lately, but I promise after tour-”

“No, no. It’s not you, I promise,” you shook your head. In this moment, you felt like you should tell him everything because he deserved an explanation from you. “Please, listen, okay?” He nodded. You walked to sit on the desk chair in front Harry as he sat on the edge of the bed. You proceeded to tell him everything that Alex said from him asking you to be his girlfriend to you saying no. “He said these mean things that-”

“What the fuck did he say?” He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath.

“Just listen,” you stopped him. “He said those things because I’m in love with someone else…I’m in love with you, and you probably heard Brooke say that, but you didn’t say anything, so I just assumed that you didn’t want to believe it.” It was the words Harry has been wanting to hear and he went to open his mouth, but you immediately started talking again. “I have been ever since I started working for you, and I thought it was just a crush on my boss, but it’s way more than that. Alex told me I’m not good enough for you and that you would never love me, and I think that’s true-”

“No! That’s not true! I love-”

“Please, don’t,” you shook your head as you sobbed. You’ve been waiting for years to hear those words, but you knew that you couldn’t hear them just yet. “Don’t say those words because I’m leaving and to prove Alex wrong.”

“I’m not trying to prove him wrong, it’s true,” Harry’s eyes watered, and you sighed.

“What he said got me thinking…I go to all these stores and pick shit up for your love interests, sending me a list of all their favorite things, and wishing that they were for me. And in the midst of it, I realized you don’t know what my favorite flower is! I’ve been hurting for so long that I covered it up everytime and put a fake smile on my face just to see you happy.”

“Your favorite flower is-”

“I just really think that I deserve to be happy as well,” you nodded your head as a way to try and convince yourself.

“You do deserve to be happy, angel baby. But we can be happy together? I-I… want you here. With me.” His voice was filled with hope, and it only made it harder for you.

You closed your eyes for a moment, burying your face in your hands. “I want that so bad. I do, H. But I really need to be happy with myself and by myself first. I depended on you and the others around me a lot, and I just didn’t save that love for myself, so…I need to leave,” you sniffled, wiping your cheeks.

“And when you come back?”

“I don’t know when that will be or what’s going to happen, but I’m not asking you to wait for me or anything because you should live your life. But when I come back, I’ll call you, and we’ll talk,” you told him, and it seemed like you had everything planned already, but you were just as lost as he was. He dropped his head, crying into his hands. You rolled your chair closer to him, grabbing his wrists, and he lifted his head. “We’ll be alright, okay? Just need a little time to myself.” He nodded, sniffling.

You stood up and walked over to your luggage, zipping it closed before you looked around to see if you forgot anything. Harry stood up and walked over to you, grabbed your wrists, and pulled you to him, giving you a hug. His face was buried in your neck and you felt him press kisses against your skin as he cried.

“You’ll be back?” The pain in his voice was enough to tip you over the edge of bawling.

“Yeah, I’ll be back,” you said in between sniffs. “I’m going to stay with my parents for a while; get a job back in Oregon,” you told him, so he’s not completely out of the loop. He pulled back, looking down at you.

“When you come back, your job will always be here.” You smiled sadly, raising your hand to caress his cheek.

“We’ll see, okay? But I have to go to the airport now. My flight is in two hours,” you managed to free yourself from his grasp as it tightened so you wouldn’t go, but you really had to.

“Let me drop you off?” He offered, and you shook your head.

“No, it’s only going to make this harder,” you said, grabbing your luggage and backpack. “Have a great rest of the tour, alright? Take care of yourself,” you placed your palm on his cheek again, looking in his sad eyes before you reached up and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you, honey.”

You walked out of the room with no glance back at him, and Harry was alone in your hotel room, and it was the last memory of you that would be ingrained in his mind forever.

14 July 2018

The crowd cheered loud for Harry for his final show in Los Angeles. He overwhelmingly smiled as he took a deep breath before continuing onto the next song. Everyone seemed to know what the next song on the set list was, so the room went a bit quiet as the crowd turned on their flashlights as the lights went completely dark, and the only thing was heard was the strumming of the guitar.

Woke up alone in this hotel room… As he sang, he took in his own lyrics, feeling like they really related to him at the moment despite writing the song two years ago. Harry sang with every emotion in him as he let it all out in the dark room that was silent, and the only thing he heard was his voice and the guitar that was played by Mitch.

We haven’t spoke since you went away…He had thought of you every night he sang this song since you left in Seattle, and it pained him that there was no contact between you ever since you left, but he figured that was what you wanted. What you needed.

Comfortable silence is so overrated… The moments when there would be silence between you two, he hated looking back at those moments because he knew he should’ve said something, you would’ve still been here.

Why won’t you ever say what you want to say? Why didn’t you say anything, Harry?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way…He missed your contact name pop up on his phone that went along with his contact picture for you. You were smiling bright as you ate ice cream. It was a summer day in New York and really warm outside, so you decided you two took a break from running around and got some ice cream. You were so happy that day, and he was happy he got it on camera.

Harry would often find himself looking at your pictures together; trying to pinpoint the exact moment you knew you were in love with him. Your smile always made his day, and it broke his heart knowing that he wouldn’t get to see that smile for a long while--at least he hoped it’s not a long time till he gets to see you again. Since, he knew when his feelings had progressed, he looked back on the pictures when he knew he fell hard. His smile had gotten bigger and the look he gave you was full of love, and he wished that you saw how he looked at you.

He missed you so much.

13 December 2019

It took you quite a while since you felt whole again.

You hadn’t felt so empty as you had been when you left Seattle. The year and a half you spent back at home really helped you with that. You were able to find yourself again; spending time with your family and with yourself was something so refreshing that you cherished every moment with them. You learned a lot about yourself, and you reshaped your own worth and values. You came back stronger than ever and you’ve never been happier than you are now.

You nervously walked over to the section you were going to be sitting in. The room was dark and the crowd was absolutely wild as they were finally seeing the one person they’ve been waiting for. You looked down, watching your step as you held your phone with the flashlight on your feet as they stepped onto the red floor of the pit, until you saw the familiar faces you’ve been looking for.

“Y/N! There you are!” Glenne smiled, taking you in for a hug. “I’ve missed you babe,” she said in your ear as you hugged her tight.

“I missed you too, so much.”

“Hey, Y/N. It’s good to see you again,” Jeff said, giving you a warm embrace.

The music was playing and the crowd had gotten louder as the man of the hour finally stepped on stage, and all the spotlights were pointed on him. You watched him as he walked down from the high stage to the main stage, grabbing his guitar as said hello to everyone before strumming the first note.

As you remembered, he was amazing on stage as he wore the same outfit as the album cover. He ignited the crowd with his charm and voice that left people in tears from being so overwhelmed by him. You felt overwhelmed as well; seeing him for the first time in a year and a half had made you quite emotional.

You knew you wanted to go to Harry’s ‘One Night Only’ show when he first announced it. From keeping in contact with him, you figured you could keep in contact with updates of him, and what he’s up to these days. You streamed his music, watched his music videos, and stayed up late just to hear a snippet of him on the radio. You were always excited when you would get the notification on your phone of new pictures and videos of him because that was the only way you were able to see him. You found out that he had spent quite some time in Japan towards the end of last year and the beginning of this year. You really hoped he was doing okay. During the days of finding yourself, the thought of seeing him again had scared you, and you weren’t ready for that, so you waited until this day to see him.

So, at the beginning of the week, you had texted Glenne that you wanted to go to the show, and she immediately said yes, putting your name on the list. You told her not to tell Harry just yet because you wanted to surprise him, and she was on board with the idea as was Jeff.

They were both really supportive of you during your times sulking and growing, and Glenne had even visited you in Oregon to make sure you were okay and simply just missing you. You were really thankful for both of them because you knew that it was hard to see their two friends in pain, but you were glad that they supported your decision. Glenne had always known that you were in love with Harry, and you told her ever since you figured your feelings out. But you had made her swear on her life and Jeff’s that she wouldn’t say a word about it to anyone, not even Jeff (although Jeff saw it coming).

“He’s going to be so happy to see you and know that you’re here,” Glenne said to you as the beginning of ‘Fine Line’ was starting. You thought the album was an absolute masterpiece that was composed of beautiful lyrics, melodies, and emotion. You made sure to dance and cheer for the songs you didn’t know the words to extra loud, and you sang to the ones you knew without hesitation. You stayed up all night, listening to the album multiple times on repeat and trying to get the words down, and you were sure everyone did the same.

As you listened to Harry sing the outro and the words ‘We’ll be alright’ coming out so effortlessly, you were reminded of your words to him as you left the hotel room. The song was quite hard hitting and you felt every inch of your skin cover in goosebumps.

You practically lost your shit when Stevie Nicks came out and performed ‘Landslide’ with him, and when he sang ‘Wonderful Christmas Time’ while fake snow was falling from the ceiling. Before you knew it, Harry was in the middle of singing ‘Kiwi,’ and Glenne tapped your arm, telling you to follow her and you knew that you three were going backstage already. You felt butterflies in your stomach, feeling really nervous to see him again up close after a year and a half; and you only hoped that he was happy to see you as well.

You heard the muffled final beat of the song as the crowd loudly cheered for him, telling him to do another song, but you knew that it was the end of the show. Jeff had walked way ahead of you both to grab Harry really quick, so he could point his attention towards you. Your hands were shaking as your arm was looped with Glenne’s as she provided physical support for you, holding you up, and continuously telling you that he’s going to be so ecstatic.

Cheers erupted from the crew as everyone hugged each other, proud and happy of the success of Harry’s first show of his sophomore album. Once you were close enough, you could make out everyone’s faces. The band was there along with Harry’s friends and producers that had written the album with him. Finally, there was Harry; his back was facing you as he hugged Jeff, and Jeff gave you an amusing smile as he hugged his best friend. You heard him whisper into Harry’s ear, and Harry pulled back, saying, “What?”

Jeff nodded, and Harry quickly turned around. His face was pulled into a shocked expression as his eyes widened and his body was practically frozen as he took in your presence. You smiled softly, waiting for him to say or do something because you didn’t know how he felt with you being here on his special night.

Finally, he took two long strides towards you, pulling you in for a hug. Your body collided with his, and smiled into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his tone body.

“How are you?” You whispered in his ear as you practically felt him shaking in your arms.

“I’m doing good. Better now,” he said softly. “What the fuck are you doing here, angel?” He chuckled, finally realizing that you were here in his arms. The sound of your pet name had widened your smile as your eyes watered; feeling so happy that you finally got to hear that name come from out of his mouth again.

“Came to see you,” you said in his neck. He pulled back, looking at you in the eye before smiling like crazy as he took you in his arms again. He felt like he was on the moon; the overwhelming feeling of the feedback from the album, the show, and now finally getting to see you for the first time in a very long time—he truly couldn’t believe it, so he held you tight, not wanting to let you go as he felt like if he did, then you would vanish again. You felt his hesitancy or not wanting to let you go, so you whispered in his ear, “Hey, I’m here. Not leaving.”

He eventually pulled back, and noticed everyone that gathered around you two, and smiles were on their faces with their hands over their hearts. They all had really witnessed Harry struggle the past year and a half; from song writing, recording, rehearsing, and just being present. They really saw Harry at his lowest, and now they're happy to finally see him happy now that you’re here.

“I-I have to go meet some people and take some pictures, but do you think, uhm…” he trailed off, realizing that he might be acting too eager.

“H, I’m right here. Do what you have to do, and I’ll wait for you, alright?” You told him with a smile, and he nodded. He didn’t want to walk away from you, but you knew that some people were waiting for him, so he had to leave. He gave you one last hug, which brightened your smile, and he walked down the hall of The Forum. “Stay in my dressing room!” He called out, and you laughed, remembering the talks and moments in his dressing room after his shows.

Heading over to his dressing room, you stopped to say hi to everyone as they excitedly greeted you. You couldn’t believe that you were here again. The journey to get here was a struggle, but reuniting with everyone had made it so worth it—seeing Harry again was worth it, and you knew that you had to do it.

After an hour of catching up with the crew and band, and sitting on his couch, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the Fine Line Booklet that contained pictures of Harry in the process of recording his album, he finally showed up. Sighing as he walked in from the rush of the entire day, once he saw your face again, he knew he wasn’t in the state of dreaming because you were really here.

He took a seat on the couch next to you, taking your hand in his. He hesitantly raised your hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on the back of it; you smiled at the sweet gesture, caressing your thumb against his hand.

“How are you, angel?” He asked, softly smiling as he was trying to contain his excitement that you’re finally here.

“I’m good, H. I’m happy,” you said, and hearing that made Harry’s eyes glossy because that’s all he wanted from you. He wanted you to be happy; with yourself, with others, and with life.

“I’m so glad to hear you say that,” he smiled, dimples poking out. You reached over to caress his cheek, rubbing his dimple out, and he turned his head to kiss the inside of your hand.

“I want to hear everything from you--catch me up on everything?” He nodded eagerly, wanting that from you too.

“Security said that the parking lot is empty now because they had to practically kick everyone out, so there’s no one out there, but what do you say we go out there and walk around the parking lot?” He suggested. It was almost midnight, and despite being exhausted and overwhelmed by this whole day, he’d rather stay up and talk for hours with you.

“Are you sure? You’re not tired?” You asked, and he shook your head.

“No, not at all. It’s been a year and a half since I last saw you. I want to spend time with you.”

“Okay, I’d like that,” you smiled, and he nodded, telling you that he was going to change really quick. He walked over to his duffel bag, grabbing some clothes before walking over to the changing room that was in his dressing room. Before he walked in, he turned around, facing you.

“Hey.” You perked up, smiling. He missed your smile so damn much. “Your favorite flower is a baby pink peony,” he said before walking into the room.

You were immediately taken back to the night when you had left when you had told him that he didn’t know what your favorite flower was, but all this time, he knew. He had always known.

Walking towards the exit of the venue, the night was dark as the moon shined from up above you. With cold air rushing through you, you shivered, and Harry smiled next to you as you two walked through the emptiness of the parking lot. Before you two even spoke a word on how to go about having the ‘catch up’ conversation, you sensed Harry’s nervousness as he felt a bit hesitant with you because of the distance and time spent apart. But you wanted to remind him that you were the same person. You had the same feelings for him, and you really hoped he had some feelings for you too.

So, you brushed your left hand against his right hand, cheeks flushed, and you interlock your fingers together, holding his warm ringed hand with your small one.

This was it--this moment right here. This was where you were supposed to be.

please come into my inbox and tell me how you’re feeling and what you thought of this! she was an emotional one :’)

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